I have never put other people in my eyes.

 

For a moment, Fang Linxuan, who had not yet recovered his senses, stared blankly into Fifth Highness’s eyes. It was only when the Fifth Highness walked right up before him that he suddenly snapped back to himself.

“Eh, Your Highness, you’ve been here all along?”

Perhaps it was that people born with such beauty always seemed as though they must carry some kind of fragrance upon them—in the instant Zhao Chu drew near, Fang Linxuan grew flustered, taking half a step back and leaving a wide space for him.

Zhao Chu lifted his gaze at him, then turned to flip through the books stacked upon the table.

Fang Linxuan, sharp-eyed, noticed the white gauze wrapped around his hand.

“Your Highness’s wound—has it been bandaged?” Fang Linxuan asked again.

Zhao Chu raised his eyes to look at him.

Hiss… how could a person’s eyes be like that, so beautiful it killed.

With just that quiet meeting of gazes, Fang Linxuan suddenly had no idea where to put his hands; even his mouth stopped listening to him, turning babbling and noisy.

“It’s nothing, that’s just how martial training is—some knocks and scrapes, it’ll be fine later on…”

“I’m fine. Was it the teacher who made you copy? How many times must you copy it?”

That was Fifth Highness’s voice, breaking the silence.

“…Eh?”

Fang Linxuan was startled.

Fifth Highness seemed to think he hadn’t understood, so his gaze lingered and he repeated, “How many times did the teacher order you to copy?”

“Five times,” Fang Linxuan answered quickly, scratching his head in embarrassment.

Then that small figure, yet already bearing the dignity of an adult noble, lightly stretched out a hand and effortlessly shifted aside the pile of books on his desk, revealing the military book he had hidden beneath.

“Six Secret Teachings (NT: Liu Tao, An ancient Chinese military classic),” Fifth Highness raised his eyes to him.

Fang Linxuan smiled sheepishly. “It was because I was sneaking a look at this during class that the teacher punished me with copying.”

Fifth Highness let out a quiet “oh,” then lifted his robe hem and sat down properly in Fang Linxuan’s seat.

“In half an hour you’ve copied only this much—can you finish by tomorrow morning?” Fifth Highness asked again.

Fang Linxuan, not treating him as an outsider at all, pulled up a chair to sit at his side, propping his elbow on the desk and grinning at Zhao Chu.

“I’ll just copy however much I can; worst case, tomorrow the teacher will give me another round of the board… eh?”

He hadn’t finished speaking when he saw that Fifth Highness had already picked up his brush.

The brush tip, rich with ink, swept across fresh paper spread upon the table.

There Zhao Chu sat, straight-backed, brows lowered, writing in smooth flowing strokes, one after another, without even glancing down—Fang Linxuan had no idea what he was writing.

Curious, Fang Linxuan leaned closer to peek.

“Auspicious day, oh such a good hour…” (NT: pinyin: jí rì xī chén liáng)

Why did this line sound so familiar?

…Of course it did! All that “xi this” and “xi that”—if it wasn’t the Nine Songs, what else could it be?

Fang Linxuan scrambled, hastily reaching out to stop him. “Fifth Highness! You mean to copy on my behalf? That won’t do, quickly hand the brush ba—uh…”

Before he could stop him, he was stunned by Zhao Chu’s flowing, rapid brushwork.

He didn’t even need to look at the book, reciting fluently from memory as his hand flew across the page.

“…You can actually write so fast.”

What began as protest ended halfway, turning entirely into reverent admiration.

*

In the end, Fang Linxuan never managed to stop Zhao Chu.

While Zhao Chu quietly copied the text, he simply lay there at the side, watching in wonder as if at a marvel.

“You write this fast—have you memorized it all?” Fang Linxuan asked. “But teacher isn’t going to teach the Nine Songs until tomorrow.”

In the pause while dipping his brush in ink, Zhao Chu glanced at him.

Fang Linxuan hurriedly covered his mouth. “Am I disturbing you?”

Yet Zhao Chu’s hand did not stop; his lips were murmuring the obscure lines of poetry while at the same time he replied to Fang Linxuan’s question.

“No,” he said. “I read it myself, so I can remember it.”

“Amazing.” Fang Linxuan offered his praise without the slightest stinginess, marveling. “Are you, like His Majesty, born to be material for a Tanhua?”

It was a rather silly question, and Fang Linxuan didn’t really expect Zhao Chu to answer.

But Zhao Chu slowly said, “After such long years in the palace—it’s merely to pass the time.”

A long time? Was time in this world somehow different from place to place?

Thinking of how, once he opened his eyes, he had to eat again, then practice martial arts, then after finishing his studies still face a whole pile of invitations from friends everywhere—twelve hours in a day were simply not enough—Fang Linyuan could not quite understand what Zhao Chu meant by those words.

He half-understood, half-did not, but figured Zhao Chu must have his own reasons for saying such a thing, so Fang Linyuan merely nodded and did not reply.

But then Zhao Chu looked at him and said: “Am I very frightening?”

“Huh?” Fang Linyuan was stunned.

Zhao Chu said: “Every time you speak with me, you’re very nervous.”

That made Fang Linyuan feel rather embarrassed.

It was really only because His Highness the Fifth was far too beautiful, always pulling all of one’s attention onto him.

When a person’s entire mind followed his eyes, who could still manage to mind his mouth?

He laughed twice. “No, it’s just that Your Highness speaks so little, I don’t know how to make conversation with you…”

Zhao Chu paused slightly, then said: “I rarely talk with people, so I’m not very good at it.”

Naturally Fang Linyuan did not know that a child raised from birth as a false girl would be ordered to keep quiet as much as possible. What he recalled instead were those fellow companions earlier, laughing and saying his temper was terrible, saying he had been raised differently from ordinary people.

He was born with a sense of justice, unable to bear seeing others pitied or wronged, unable to watch them bullied.

So Fang Linyuan hastily said, with seriousness: “Whatever they say, Your Highness need not pay it any mind. It’s only that their brains are dull, unable to keep up with Your Highness’s pace, so they speak ill of you behind your back.”

But Zhao Chu calmly shook his head.

“I’ve never placed others in my eyes,” he said.

Eh?

Fang Linyuan looked at Zhao Chu, only to see his brows smooth, his expression light and unruffled, not as though he were lying—nor did he seem to have any reason to lie to him.

Only…

Since he didn’t care what others said…

Then why bother explaining to him the reason why he spoke so little?

*

The next day, Fang Linyuan handed over the thick stack of copied text as punishment to the teacher, finally settling the matter.

The teacher flipped through it—none missing—then only reluctantly let him off, not forgetting to admonish: “Young Master, from now on, you must never again commit the same mistake.”

Fang Linyuan obediently nodded. In that day’s lesson, he truly did not sneak a look at the military texts again.

Only…

The teacher really did speak so fast! The content seemed obscure and tangled beyond clarity, he honestly could not understand it at all!

Fang Linyuan clenched his teeth and endured for half an hour, but still was defeated.

The teacher was up on the platform, speaking on and on about “throwing wide the heavenly gates” and “I mount upon the dark clouds”—while below, Fang Linyuan’s very soul was about to drift off to those heavenly gates as well.

(NT: “Throwing wide the heavenly gates” is a line from the Nine Songs. It refers to the heavens opening as the shaman-poet seeks communion with the divine. “I mount upon the dark clouds” is another line from the Nine Songs, where the speaker ascends the dark or mysterious clouds to cross between the human and spirit worlds. )

Behind his upright book, he began nodding like a pecking chick.

As for the teacher’s quizzes and the threat of beating him again, he really couldn’t care less anymore…

“Teacher.”

Just then, a cool, clear voice came from the side.

Fang Linyuan’s head jerked up, and he instantly awoke.

Turning his head, he met the pair of eyes of His Highness the Fifth, clear as dark jade.

Then he saw the Fifth Prince lift his head and quietly gaze at the teacher on the dais. “I do not understand very well. May Teacher please lecture a little more slowly.”

It was that same Fifth Highness, who could recite the Nine Songs fluently backwards, who said this to the teacher, calm and steady.

 

Translator : DarNan