"Chaochao~"
Lu Chao shuddered at the nickname, his skin crawling. Had Lord Lu been drinking too much or taken the wrong medicine? Why was he calling him "Chaochao" in such a saccharine tone?
He’d always addressed him by his full name before!
When angry, his father would outright call him a "little brat" or "ungrateful wretch"—since when had he ever been this gentle?
"Father, if you have something to say, just say it plainly."
Don’t scare me like this.
"Ahem! Chaochao, are you still in contact with that Third Young Master of the Zhou Family?"
Lu Chao hesitated before nodding.
"We exchange letters occasionally, that’s all."
Lord Lu’s mouth opened and closed, wrestling with his words before finally whispering,
"Ahem! Well… family matters shouldn’t be aired in public. From now on, be mindful of what you write in those letters. I heard from Lord Zhou that Young Master Zhou ranks at the top of his class and is highly praised by his tutors. You should discuss academics with him more—it’ll only benefit you. As for trivial gossip, I doubt the young master is interested, so keep it to a minimum, alright?"
Lu Chao’s expression nearly cracked in disbelief.
"Lord Zhou told you that?!"
He distinctly remembered Zhou Youcheng’s letters boasting about how he consistently ranked at the bottom of every monthly exam, how he once made his tutor faint in rage, and how his father chased him with a stick for it. Their letters were full of such personal anecdotes—what was wrong with that? Was nothing private anymore?
"Do you think I’d lie to you? Just write less nonsense and learn from him, understand?"
Lu Chao choked, momentarily speechless.
"Fine, fine."
That big-mouthed Zhou Youcheng—how could he blab everything to his father? Next time he wrote, he’d have to scold him mercilessly.
Meanwhile, far away in the capital, Xiao Youcheng sneezed, straightened his posture, and continued kneeling.
Inside a palace chamber, an elegant consort sipped tea with poised fingers.
"Has he still not admitted his fault?"
A senior palace maid bowed.
"Your Highness, the Third Prince has been kneeling for two hours already. Any longer, and his knees might suffer."
"That boy has no sense of propriety—either he’s teasing cats and dogs or causing trouble for You'an. Those brothers quarrel every other day. If I don’t discipline him now, he might commit a grave mistake someday!"
"The Third Prince is only ten, still young. With Your Highness’s guidance, he will surely come to understand your motherly love."
This was Noble Consort Xian, a mother of two sons and a daughter. That she could secure her position in the ruthless palace with two healthy sons spoke volumes of her shrewdness.
Yet, for some reason, her two sons seemed destined to clash—constantly bickering, even coming to blows as if they were sworn enemies.
Just days ago, they’d stirred up another mess during the winter hunt, adding fresh wrinkles to Noble Consort Xian’s otherwise well-preserved face.
"Ask him if he’s repented. If he remains unrepentant, make him kneel another hour."
"Your Highness!"
"I mean it this time. No one is to plead for him!"
The servants bowed their heads helplessly.
"Your Highness, the Noble Consort is furious. Just admit fault for now. A mother’s heart aches when her child suffers—she only punishes you out of love."
Xiao Youcheng shook his head.
"Tell my mother this: If I’ve done no wrong, I won’t admit to it. Even between brothers, there must be principles."
The servant stamped her foot in frustration. Both mother and son were stubborn, and with Lord Zhou away from the capital, no one could mediate.
In the imperial study, the Emperor massaged his temples upon hearing his third son had been kneeling for hours.
"Deliver Our decree: Summon the Third Prince to the study."
"Then fetch a physician from the imperial hospital to tend to his knees."
"As you command."
Xiao Youcheng limped toward the study, spotting Old Imperial Physician Xu hobbling toward him, one hand clutching his medical box, the other steadying his hat. The prince grinned.
How fitting—two limping souls rushing toward each other.
If Lu Chao saw this, he’d laugh himself to death.
When the physician rolled up Xiao Youcheng’s pant legs, he gasped.
"Your Highness, you knelt this earnestly?"
The prince’s knees were swollen, bruised purple and red.
"Third Prince, bear with me. I’ll apply ice to reduce the swelling, then medicated wine to disperse the blood stagnation. Otherwise, your knees won’t heal anytime soon."
Xiao Youcheng shook his head. "It’s fine."
Though his face contorted in pain as the physician kneaded his bruises, the prince didn’t utter a sound.
"Quite the endurance."
Hearing the voice behind him, Xiao Youcheng’s eyes reddened. He tried to rise and bow.
"Father."
"Stay seated. What was it this time?"
For once, Xiao Youcheng stayed silent.
Petty squabbles were one thing, but this time, his Eldest Prince Brother had crossed a line. He knew the Emperor had spies among his sons—did his father truly not know what had happened, or was he feigning ignorance?
Either way, it didn’t matter anymore. He was tired.
"Father, may I ask a favor?"
The aging Emperor’s sharp phoenix eyes narrowed, his aura icy.
"May I request a fief? I wish to govern a territory and serve Your Majesty loyally from there."
"Nonsense!"
The Crown Prince had been frail since childhood, and the Empress bore no heirs.
Every other prince harbored ambitions.
The Emperor was in robust health, likely to reign another decade—by then, even the youngest, the Eighth Prince, would be grown.
The throne’s fate remained uncertain.
That Noble Consort Xian bore two sons was no accident—her family hailed from newly risen commoner officials, unbound by aristocratic constraints.
Xiao Youcheng smiled bitterly. He’d never coveted the throne, yet his Eldest Brother grew increasingly paranoid, convinced he was stealing his resources.
Never mind that it was his Eldest Brother who disdained their mud-stained maternal grandfather and uncle, alienating them. If Xiao Youcheng so much as spoke to the Crown Prince Brother, he was accused of betrayal—and their mother always took his brother’s side.
Last time he left the palace, he’d nearly been kidnapped. The trail led back to his own brother, but before he could confront him, all evidence vanished. Only the Emperor or Noble Consort Xian could’ve orchestrated such a clean sweep. What was the point of digging further?
Returning to the capital, he lost all motivation—skipping lessons, idling with pets, avoiding his brother and mother. He just wanted to "lie flat," as Lu Chao put it. Was that too much to ask?
"I beg Your Majesty’s permission!"
Ignoring his freshly treated knees, Xiao Youcheng dropped back to the floor with a thud.
"Which fief do you want?"
The Emperor’s voice was low, weary, yet laced with danger. His gaze was piercing.
Xiao Youcheng’s back prickled—it felt like being scrutinized by a lion guarding its territory, one misstep away from being devoured.
"Shu."
He closed his eyes, whispering the word.
The oppressive aura dissipated instantly.
"You’re only eleven. Going alone to Shu—over a thousand li from the capital—would only give Us constant worry. If anything happened, how would your mother bear it?"
Xiao Youcheng stayed silent, clearly still resentful toward Noble Consort Xian.
The Emperor sighed. Still just a child.
"Then let it be Yingchuan. The climate there is pleasant, and it’s close to the capital as well."
"Your son thanks His Majesty!"
In less than half a day, news of the Third Prince’s request for his fiefdom had spread to every corner of the imperial palace.
"That unfilial wretch! How dare he disregard me like this—and his Eldest Brother too!"
It was said that Noble Consort Xian had smashed everything breakable in her chambers.
When Xiao Youcheng departed the capital, Noble Consort Xian still refused to see him. He stood outside her palace gates for an hour, but the servants could only shake their heads. Xiao Youcheng merely smiled, then knelt and kowtowed three times before the closed doors.
Without looking back, he left Bianjing behind.
