The moment Shi Huai leaped down from the carriage, the entire cuju field seemed to freeze, as if someone had pressed pause.
He wore a moon-white riding outfit, a silver-gray sash tied around his waist, and his raven-black hair was swept up high with a white jade hairpin, revealing a face so breathtaking that everyone forgot to breathe.
At thirteen, Shi Huai could no longer be described simply as “handsome.”
Xie Zhaolin was crouching at the edge of the field, picking up his younger sister’s bracelet. The instant he looked up and saw Shi Huai, his fingers went slack. The bracelet fell to the ground and shattered, but he didn’t even notice. He just remained there half-crouched, frozen in place, mouth slightly open.
Zhao Huan stood in the center of the field with a cuju ball in his arms. When he saw Shi Huai, the ball slipped from his hands and rolled several yards before striking a pillar and bouncing back. He didn’t notice that either.
“Shi Huai! Over here!”
Zhao Huan was the first to recover. Blushing, he waved vigorously at Shi Huai, looking like a huge dog who had just seen its master come home and could hardly wait to rush over and circle around him.
Xie Zhaolin rose to his feet. He glanced down at his sister’s broken bracelet, then toward Shi Huai. After a moment’s hesitation, he hurried over as well.
“Young Master Shi, it’s been a while. You’ve grown taller again.”
Xie Zhaolin’s voice was half a tone lower than usual. He tried to keep his gaze from being too obvious, but his eyes refused to obey him.
Zhao Huan had already run up to Shi Huai.
The fifteen-year-old was half a head taller than Shi Huai, yet at that moment he bent slightly at the waist and looked up at him.
His posture was remarkably similar to the way the orange cat at Shi Huai’s home raised its head whenever it begged for food.
“Shi Huai, have you gotten even better-looking lately? The last time I saw you, you weren’t quite so… so…”
Zhao Huan stammered over the word for so long that his face turned bright red. In the end, he forced out:
“Anyway, you’re just even better-looking now.”
The Crown Prince stood a few steps away. Seeing how utterly hopeless Zhao Huan looked, the corner of his mouth twitched.
Then he glanced at Xie Zhaolin, who was pretending to be calm while not knowing what to do with his hands, and his mouth twitched even more violently.
The Third Prince was displeased. He had clearly been the first one to notice Shi Huai. The twelve-year-old already carried an air of nobility and the beginnings of an imposing presence that made people instinctively wary.
“Shi Huai, I saved you a seat. It’s in the middle of the viewing platform, with the best view.”
The Third Prince’s voice was neither too loud nor too soft, and his warmth was perfectly measured.
He was neither overly obsequious nor lacking in sincerity. His intentions were clear without making him seem too eager.
As he spoke, his eyes remained fixed on Shi Huai’s face, never shifting even for a moment.
Shen Jinghong sauntered lazily over from behind Shi Huai.
“Your Highness, Shi Huai came to play cuju, not watch it. Why are you saving him a seat in the stands?”
Shen Jinghong’s voice was languid, carrying an innate air of irritating smugness. Every word sounded deliberately chosen to needle someone.
The smile on the Third Prince’s face didn’t change in the slightest, but the warmth in his eyes abruptly dropped several degrees.
He turned to face Shen Jinghong. Their gazes collided in midair, sparks flying between them—sparks no one could see.
“The game hasn’t started yet. Why can’t Shi Huai rest for a while first? Young Master Shen, must you interfere in even such a small matter? Aren’t you being a little too controlling?”
The Third Prince’s voice remained gentle, but every word was like a blade wrapped in silk—softly pushing forward, only for its bloodied edge to reveal itself after the fact.
Shen Jinghong’s peach-blossom eyes narrowed slightly, and the curve of his lips deepened.
His smile looked even brighter, but anyone familiar with him knew that this was a sign he was about to lose his temper.
“Your Highness is right. I have overstepped. However, the seat you chose is right in the middle, where the sun is strongest. Shi Huai has delicate skin; it wouldn’t do for him to get sunburned. I had people set up a canopy on the right side of the stands. It’s shaded and well-ventilated.”
After saying this, Shen Jinghong turned his head toward Shi Huai, the chill in his eyes instantly melting into tenderness.
“Shi Huai, go sit over there. I also had some chilled sour-plum drink prepared.”
A crack finally appeared in the Third Prince’s smile. His fingers clenched inside his sleeves until they creaked.
He took a deep breath before managing to suppress the anger roiling within him.
Zhao Huan watched the two of them trade blows, his eyes darting back and forth. Then he suddenly spoke up.
“Shi Huai, do you want to warm up? I can teach you a few moves. I guarantee you’ll score the most goals today.”
As he spoke, he had already reached out to tug at Shi Huai’s sleeve. The movement was so natural, as though he were doing something perfectly ordinary, and so swift that even the Crown Prince didn’t have time to react.
Shen Jinghong and the Third Prince both turned to look at Zhao Huan. Their gazes stabbed toward him like two blades.
A chill ran down Zhao Huan’s back, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he tightened his grip.
“Zhao Huan, let go. Shi Huai isn’t yours, so why are you pulling him around?”
Shen Jinghong’s voice was venomous.
Under the pressure of those peach-blossom eyes, Zhao Huan felt his scalp prickle. His Adam’s apple bobbed once or twice, but after gritting his teeth, he still refused to let go. Instead, he stepped forward, positioning himself slightly in front of Shi Huai.
“I’m teaching him how to warm up! It’s his first time at the cuju field. If he doesn’t warm up, he could pull a muscle. Young Master Shen, do you have to interfere with even that?”
Zhao Huan’s voice trembled a little, but his tone was unexpectedly firm.
Xie Zhaolin stood to the side, watching the tense standoff. The corner of his mouth twitched.
He had originally wanted to step forward and say something as well, but after looking at the expressions of Shen Jinghong and the Third Prince, then at Zhao Huan’s expression of grim determination, he decided it would be best to observe for now.
The Crown Prince finally spoke, his voice indifferent and carrying the innate superiority of his position.
“Enough. Shi Huai isn’t an object for you to pull back and forth. What do you think you’re doing?”
He walked over to Shi Huai, his gaze settling on that face glowing pale in the sunlight. His throat bobbed once, and his voice unconsciously softened.
“Shi Huai, you decide. Where do you want to go?”
Surrounded by all of them, Shi Huai watched as they argued back and forth. The corner of his mouth twitched faintly.
He raised a hand and pointed toward the broadest, most open stretch of the field.
“I want to play. Which one of you will teach me?”
The moment those words left his mouth, the surroundings fell silent for a brief instant. Then everyone erupted.
“I will! I will! I’m the best at cuju!”
Zhao Huan was the first to jump up, thrusting his hand high into the air. He looked like an eager dog desperate to show off.
“You’re the best? Who was it that kicked the ball into his own goal last time?”
Xie Zhaolin’s voice drifted over from the side, laced with undisguised mockery.
Zhao Huan’s face flushed bright red. He stammered, “Th-That was an accident!”
Shen Jinghong let out a derisive laugh, his eyes full of amusement.
“An accident? You’ve played for years. The number of times you’ve had an ‘accident’ adds up to more meals than I’ve eaten.”
Zhao Huan was rendered speechless. His face turned even redder, and after his lips trembled several times, he finally forced out:
“Th-That still makes me better than certain people who can only talk and never move their legs!”
Shen Jinghong’s peach-blossom eyes narrowed slightly, a cold glint flashing through them. He was just about to respond when Shi Huai’s voice rang out first.
