Qinghe stood at the doorway, watching the three youths fawn over Shi Huai. The corners of her mouth twitched faintly as she sighed inwardly.
She had been by Shi Huai’s side for more than a decade.
Aside from the first few years, she had seen this sort of thing far too often.
So often that she had become numb to it, and had even started to regard it as part of everyday life.
As normal as eating and drinking every day.
Shi Huai finished a crab roe bun and a piece of almond tea cake. He lifted his teacup for a sip, then looked up at the three of them with a faint smile.
“Have you all eaten? Would you like to have something too?”
The Crown Prince shook his head, his gaze fixed on Shi Huai’s face. “I’ve already eaten. You go ahead.”
Shen Jinghong shook his head as well, his eyes brimming with amusement. “I’ve eaten too. Take your time.”
Wang Ren gave a simple, honest smile and reached for another crab roe bun, placing it in Shi Huai’s bowl. “Eat more. You’re too thin. A gust of wind could blow you away.”
Shi Huai lowered his head to look at himself, then raised it to look at Wang Ren. The corners of his mouth twitched.
“Brother Wang, I’m not thin. You’re just too fat.”
Wang Ren was momentarily speechless. The dimples on his face froze for an instant before returning, and he scratched his head with a sheepish grin.
“Being a little plump is good. It means you’re blessed.”
Shen Jinghong let out a snort, his eyes full of mockery. “You call that being blessed? That’s raising a pig.”
Wang Ren’s face immediately flushed bright red. He opened his mouth to retort, but then caught sight of the Crown Prince’s icy gaze from the corner of his eye. The words died in his throat.
He lowered his head and pretended to organize the food box, the tips of his ears red enough to drip blood.
Shi Huai watched as the three of them traded barbs, one after another, and helplessly sighed.
He lowered his head and continued eating, finishing the crab roe buns one by one until his cheeks bulged.
Tangerine poked its head out from beneath the table, its round eyes fixed on the bun in Shi Huai’s hand.
“Meow, meow,” it cried incessantly, licking its nose as its whiskers twitched.
Shi Huai broke off a small piece and tossed it onto the floor.
Tangerine sniffed it, ate the crab roe inside, then stepped on the bun’s wrapper.
Only after that did it flick its tail disdainfully and saunter away.
The Crown Prince watched the picky orange cat, and an involuntary smile rose to his lips. He quickly suppressed it, lifted his teacup for a sip, and discovered that there was no tea in it at all. It was empty.
He awkwardly set the cup down and rubbed his fingers along its rim, his gaze returning to Shi Huai.
He watched Shi Huai eat.
From the curve of his puffed-out cheeks, to the crumbs of almond tea cake clinging to the corners of his mouth, to the sheen of oil on his fingertips—he missed not a single detail.
The Crown Prince’s fingers clenched and relaxed on his knee, then clenched and relaxed again. His knuckles turned white several times, and his heart pounded as though it were about to leap from his throat.
He cursed himself inwardly for being so useless, but he simply could not look away.
When Shi Huai finished eating, he wiped his hands and mouth with a handkerchief before lifting his head to look at the three of them. He realized that all three were staring at him, each gaze more heated than the last.
He felt somewhat uncomfortable beneath their attention and reached up to touch his face.
“Is there something on my face?”
The three of them shook their heads at the same time, their movements so perfectly synchronized that they looked as if they had rehearsed them.
The Crown Prince was the first to recover. He gave a light cough, lifted the already empty teacup, then set it down again. Only after rubbing the rim several times did he manage to force out a sentence.
“Shi Huai, I’ll come see you another day. Take good care of yourself.”
He rose to his feet, and the four eunuchs behind him immediately moved as well.
One lifted the curtain, another cleared the way, and a third went outside to pass on his instructions.
When the Crown Prince reached the doorway, he paused. He turned back and glanced at the three people in the main hall.
His gaze lingered for a moment on each of Shen Jinghong and Wang Ren, carrying an unmistakable warning from above. Then he turned and strode out of the Hall of Longevity and Peace. His apricot-yellow python robe flashed once in the corridor before disappearing from sight.
Shen Jinghong leaned back in his chair, his eyes half-lidded as he watched the direction in which the Crown Prince had vanished. A meaningful smile curved his lips.
He lifted his teacup and took a leisurely sip.
The tea had already gone cold, yet he drank it with relish, as if savoring some rare vintage.
“His Highness certainly has quite a temper today.”
Shen Jinghong’s voice was not loud, but it was just enough for everyone in the room to hear.
Wang Ren looked up at him. He opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, then swallowed the words and lowered his head to continue arranging the food box. The dimples in his round face had faded somewhat.
Shi Huai lifted his teacup and took a sip. His gaze moved back and forth between the two men, and a helpless smile touched his lips.
“Stop arguing. It’s New Year’s. Can’t you two just enjoy the holiday?”
Shen Jinghong set down his teacup. The amusement in his peach-blossom eyes deepened, and his voice softened.
“Of course. Whatever you say.”
Wang Ren nodded as well. The dimples in his round face deepened once more, and his honest smile held an unmistakable hint of ingratiation.
“Exactly. Whatever you say.”
Shi Huai watched the two of them echo one another, and the corners of his mouth twitched faintly.
Tangerine crawled out from beneath the table and leaped onto Shi Huai’s lap.
It curled into an orange ball of fur in his arms, its tail lazily drawing circles through the air.
Time slipped by between the pages of books. The winter snow melted, the spring grass turned green, summer lotuses bloomed, and autumn chrysanthemums withered. Before long, another year had passed.
Shi Huai’s looks had long since reached their limit, but the marks of time were becoming increasingly obvious on him.
At twelve years old, Shi Huai had finally shed the last traces of childish innocence.
“Ding! The Appearance Point Allocator is operating in maintenance mode. One Luck Point will be automatically obtained each month. Current Luck Points: 45/1000. Total Luck Points obtained: 45. Passive effect activated: [Luck’s Favor]. The probability of receiving the favor of fate has increased to 25%.”
A new teacher had arrived at the Imperial College.
His surname was Du, and his given name was Ziteng.
The first time Shi Huai heard the name, he nearly lost control of himself, but he managed to hold it in.
Mm... Pfft... Truly pfft... Hold it in...
