The Third Prince took a deep breath before he could suppress the turmoil of emotions surging inside him.
He couldn’t let Shi Huai notice. He couldn’t let Shi Huai find him strange, and he certainly couldn’t let him pull away.
They were still young. He would take it slowly, bit by bit, like spring rain quietly nourishing all things, slipping into Shi Huai’s heart without making a sound.
Beneath the old locust tree in the garden stood a swing. The craftsmen at the Imperial Academy had built it a few years ago for the students to play on during breaks.
Shi Huai stopped in front of it and turned to look at the Third Prince, a faint smile curving his lips.
“Are you going to sit?”
The Third Prince shook his head, his gaze fixed on Shi Huai’s face. “You sit. I’ll push you.”
Shi Huai didn’t stand on ceremony. He sat down on the swing, gripped the ropes on either side, and gave a gentle push with his toes. The swing began to sway slowly.
Standing behind him, the Third Prince grasped the ropes and pushed lightly. The force was neither too strong nor too weak—just enough for Shi Huai to swing without having to exert himself.
He lowered his head and looked at the back of Shi Huai’s head, at the long black hair gleaming softly in the sunlight, at the fair nape of his neck appearing and disappearing beneath his collar.
Shen Jinghong leaned against the moon gate of the garden, watching the Third Prince push the swing with narrowed eyes and a cold smile on his lips.
He cursed the Third Prince as a bootlicker in his heart, then found himself wondering what it would look like if he were the one standing behind Shi Huai and pushing the swing.
Wang Ren came running over from the side, carrying a plate of pastries. Two deep dimples appeared in his round cheeks.
“Shi Huai, you must be hungry, right? Have something to eat. I had the cook make these fresh.”
He held the plate up to Shi Huai and smiled foolishly.
Shi Huai had been growing lately and got hungry quickly. He rubbed his stomach, jumped down from the swing, and took a pastry, biting into it.
The Third Prince’s gaze instantly contracted. His fingers tightened around the swing’s ropes, his knuckles turning white as though he might snap the hempen cords in two.
He watched the crumbs clinging to the corner of Shi Huai’s lips. He watched as Shi Huai extended the tip of his tongue and licked them away. His throat bobbed once, and he hurriedly looked away.
He was afraid that if he kept watching, he would do something irreparable—like reaching out to wipe the crumbs from Shi Huai’s lips.
Of course, what he wanted even more was to go over and lick them away himself…
Du Ziteng stood behind a second-floor window, a cup of tea in his hand as he looked down at the few people in the garden.
He watched the Third Prince push the swing, Shi Huai eat pastries, Wang Ren smile foolishly, and Shen Jinghong pretend not to care. Slowly, an unreadable smile rose across his lips.
That evening, at the Yongning Marquis Residence, in Shou’an Hall.
Shi Huai sat in the study practicing calligraphy. His brush whispered over the paper, writing lines from the Rhapsody on the Luo River.
“Graceful as a startled swan, supple as a swimming dragon;
Brilliant as autumn chrysanthemums, luxuriant as spring pines.”
Qinghe entered carrying a steaming bowl of white fungus soup. She placed it beside the desk, then took a step back, her eyes falling on Shi Huai as he lowered his brows and concentrated on his writing.
The longer she looked, the redder her eyes became. She quickly wiped them with the back of her hand.
“Big Sister Qinghe, what’s wrong with you again?”
Shi Huai looked up at her, his eyes shimmering with specks of light in the candle glow.
Qinghe shook her head, her voice slightly hoarse. “This servant is fine. It’s just that the young master is far too beautiful. Beautiful enough to make one’s heart ache.”
Shi Huai set down his brush and took a sip of the white fungus soup. It was sweetened just right, the warm broth flowing from his throat all the way down to his stomach.
He looked up at Qinghe’s reddened eyes, a helpless smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Big Sister Qinghe, you see me every day. Aren’t you tired of looking at me yet?”
Qinghe shook her head, then nodded. In the end, she simply didn’t answer and turned to leave the study.
She walked into the courtyard, crouched down, and buried her face in her knees. Her shoulders shook as she began to cry.
Tangerine jumped down from the wall and walked over to her feet with elegant steps. It rubbed its head against the hem of her skirt and let out a soft meow.
Qinghe lifted her head and scrubbed her face with the back of her hand. Looking at Tangerine’s round, bright eyes, she asked tearfully, “Tangerine, what kind of young mistress do you think the young master will marry in the future?”
Tangerine meowed. Its tail drew slow circles through the air.
Qinghe sniffed, stood up, and brushed the dust from her skirt before turning back toward the kitchen.
She still had to prepare the young master’s breakfast for tomorrow, his lunch, his dinner, and every meal after that.
No matter whom the young master married, she would remain behind him for the rest of her life.
The thought left her heart sour, bitter, and warm all at once, like drinking ginger tea with far too much sugar—sweet, spicy, and scalding.
The days passed one after another.
Zhao Chengrui officially became a member of Class A at the Imperial Academy.
He arrived earlier than anyone else and left later than anyone else. He paid more attention in class than anyone else, and his assignments were neater than anyone else’s.
In the instructors’ office, Lu Yanli remarked to the other teachers, “The Third Prince has completely changed. Who would have thought he’d actually start applying himself to his studies?”
The other teachers nodded in agreement.
Only Du Ziteng knew that his nephew was working so hard not for the sake of studying, but for Shi Huai.
The Third Prince sat beside Shi Huai. Whenever Shi Huai lowered his head to write, the Third Prince would secretly turn to look at him, his gaze soft and sticky, like he had just been fished out of a jar of honey.
He wasn’t as showy as Shen Jinghong, as attentive as Wang Ren, as timid as Lin Mo, or as silent as Gu Changning…
He had his own way of doing things.
When Shi Huai wrote essays, he sat quietly beside him. When Shi Huai practiced calligraphy, he silently ground the ink. When Shi Huai read, he pushed the pastries he had brought over to Shi Huai’s hand.
He didn’t say anything. He simply watched Shi Huai with those bright, sparkling eyes.
Every time that gaze left Shi Huai helpless, Shi Huai would sigh, pick up a pastry, and stuff it into his mouth. The Third Prince would then break into a satisfied smile.
Shen Jinghong saw everything, and the chill in his eyes grew deeper with each passing day.
He found life at the Imperial Academy increasingly unbearable.
Before, there had only been Wang Ren competing with him for Shi Huai’s attention. He could still handle that; three or five sentences were enough to leave Wang Ren speechless.
Then Lin Mo arrived, hopping around in front of Shi Huai every day like a rabbit.
Although annoying, he hadn’t taken Lin Mo too seriously.
After all, Lin Mo was too timid. He didn’t even dare meet Shi Huai’s eyes.
Later, Gu Changning came along. He neither competed nor fussed, neither argued nor made a scene. He simply stood quietly in a corner, watching Shi Huai with those icy eyes.
That sort of person was the most frightening.
Because you had no idea what he was thinking. You didn’t even know whether he was thinking about anything at all.
And now there was the Third Prince.
Shen Jinghong drew a deep breath and forced it down into his chest. His fingers clenched inside his sleeves until his knuckles cracked.
He cursed them one by one in his heart.
He cursed the Crown Prince, then the Third Prince, then Wang Ren, then Lin Mo, and finally Gu Changning.
After he had finished, he realized that the person he hated most was still the Crown Prince.
Because the Crown Prince had status and power. Everyone could see that he was destined to become the future ruler.
If the Crown Prince truly took a liking to Shi Huai…
Shen Jinghong didn't dare think any further.
