Song Yu chuckled awkwardly, steering the conversation away from books. "Ahuan, your Imperial Grandfather just granted you a wish. Shouldn’t you thank him?"
Inwardly, Song Yu had already made up his mind—once they returned to the mansion, he would find a tutor for Ahuang.
Reading for over half a month had been pure torment for him.
"Thank you, Imperial Grandfather."
Song Shihuan grinned like a little fox, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Can I make my wish now?"
"The word of an emperor is unbreakable. Speak your mind."
"I want two personal maids—one skilled in martial arts, the other in prescribing medicines." Song Shihuan wasn’t about to let this golden opportunity slip. Returning to that sieve-like mansion had cost her several meals from sheer worry.
And now, her Imperial Grandfather had delivered the solution right into her hands!
Just in time to ease her pressing troubles.
"Why one skilled in martial arts and one in medicine?" Emperor Yuanyou asked, amused.
"The martial artist can teach me self-defense, and the physician can keep me plump and healthy."
Emperor Yuanyou burst into laughter. "Granted."
The next day, Song Yu and Song Shihuan left the palace laden with bundles.
They had arrived empty-handed but departed with nearly half the Zichen Hall’s treasures—plus two maids.
Inside the carriage—
"Father, Physician Mei said your injuries haven’t fully healed yet." Song Shihuan spoke softly, watching Song Yu practically lean out the window.
"A month of rest was more than enough."
Song Yu waved a dismissive hand, then ventured cautiously, "Ahuan, how about I find you a tutor in a few days? You could study for a few hours daily and practice martial arts."
"Of course."
Her immediate agreement caught Song Yu off guard.
"Just so you know, I won’t be there during your lessons or training." He pressed further, unwilling to let it go.
"I understand." Song Shihuan blinked innocently. "Could Father find me a top scholar as a tutor?"
Something felt off.
Wasn’t this exactly what he wanted—Ahuan obediently attending lessons so he wouldn’t have to suffer through those dreaded books anymore?
Yet now that she’d agreed, why did his chest tighten uncomfortably?
How strange.
And a top scholar as her tutor? Could they possibly explain things as clearly as he could?
A faint smile flickered in Song Shihuan’s eyes. There was plenty of time ahead.
---
Qin Prince’s Mansion.
Song Shihuan studied the two maids before her, thoroughly pleased.
"From now on, you’ll be called Yingchun and Baoxia. Does that suit you?" The maids Emperor Yuanyou had given her were clearly exceptional.
"Many thanks for the names, Your Highness."
Yingchun excelled in medicine; Baoxia, in martial arts.
"This mansion has few masters and even fewer rules. But remember this—I keep no one with divided loyalties by my side." Song Shihuan’s tone was cool, a stark contrast to her earlier girlish sweetness. Yingchun and Baoxia shivered simultaneously.
Their young mistress was no ordinary noble girl.
"From this day forth, Your Highness is our only master."
As the steward led Yingchun and Baoxia to familiarize themselves with the mansion, the matron entered the room with a troubled expression.
"What is it? Did Father leave again?"
The matron nodded. "Just as you predicted, Your Highness. The prince hurried out moments ago—likely to enjoy some music."
"Let him go if he wishes."
Thanks to the schemes of the late empress, Song Yu had been molded into a pleasure-seeker from the start.
Changing that wouldn’t happen overnight.
"Matron, the books say progress must be gradual—never rushed or greedy." Song Shihuan smiled. "Father treats me well enough. I can’t demand perfection from him."
A little "playing hard to get" wouldn’t hurt either.
"You’re right, Your Highness. This old servant was mistaken."
The matron sighed in relief, realizing she’d hoped for the prince to transform overnight into a model of virtue.
Impossible.
"Don’t worry, Matron. For now, I need you to keep a close watch on the mansion’s movements."
A shadow passed through Song Shihuan’s eyes as she felt the sting on her back.
She’d humiliated Song Xiyan thoroughly.
The Eastern Palace wouldn’t let that slide.
Now that she was in the mansion, they could strike at her with ease.
Caution was paramount.
---
Song Yu didn’t return until dusk.
At the mansion’s gates, an unfamiliar pang of guilt struck him. "Did the princess cry or fuss?"
The steward looked bewildered. "Your Highness, the princess retired early."
"Already asleep?" Song Yu nearly stumbled. "She didn’t mention me before bed?"
"She did." Under Song Yu’s eager gaze, the steward continued, "The princess reminded this servant to urge Your Highness to find her a tutor soon."
"I see."
Song Yu’s mood soured. What was happening? Why wasn’t Ahuang clinging to him anymore?
The next day, he deliberately lingered near Song Shihuan’s courtyard before leaving.
"Father."
Song Shihuan’s sweet voice instantly lifted his spirits.
"Has Father found me a tutor yet?"
Just like that, his joy plummeted.
"Not yet. I’ll be out all day today—might return late." He watched her reaction closely, remembering how she’d once wept to keep him home.
"Alright. Please mind your injuries, Father."
As he walked away, Song Yu grew increasingly irritable, barely registering Shen Qingping’s chatter beside him.
"Your Highness, have you lost your soul already?"
Shen Qingping clapped him on the shoulder. "We haven’t even seen Mei’er yet, and you’re already spellbound?"
"Shut it."
Song Yu kicked Shen Qingping irritably, finding everything about the man grating.
"Look at you. Your father, Shen Mingwen, is a pillar of the court in the old man’s eyes. Yet here you are—a good-for-nothing who won’t even glance at a book."
Shen Qingping gaped.
Had some spirit possessed the prince?
"Your Highness, you’re one to talk!"
"I won’t stoop to your level." Already fuming, Song Yu’s irritation only grew at the sight of Yingchun Pavilion’s bustling courtesans.
"Your Highness seems troubled. Perhaps we can help?" Mei’er swayed forward, her voice dripping honey.
"What could you possibly do?" Song Yu shot a disdainful glance at Shen Qingping, who was already flanked by women.
"Your Highness underestimates us. Sometimes, a woman’s intuition sees what men overlook."
"A woman’s intuition?"
Song Yu’s expression shifted. Clearing his throat, he posed his question.
"Suppose you had a daughter who adored clinging to you—but suddenly stopped. Why would that happen?"
A loud thud followed.
Shen Qingping had fallen off his seat.
