Li Chengze walked up to Shi Huai and looked down at the boy, who was a full head shorter than him.
A hard-to-describe emotion churned in his deep-set eyes—something between shock and the jolt of having been struck by something unexpected.
They had not seen each other for two years, and he had never imagined Shi Huai would make his heart flutter even more now.
Shi Huai raised his head to look at the tall young man before him and nodded. “Shi Huai greets the heir apparent.”
“There’s no need for such formality.”
Li Chengze’s voice was a little tight.
He had faced tens of thousands of enemy soldiers on the battlefield without so much as a furrowed brow.
Yet at that moment, a single “Your Highness” from a thirteen-year-old boy left him at a complete loss as to where to put his hands.
“Do you... do you know how to play cuju?”
Li Chengze’s voice sounded oddly airy.
To conceal his fluster, he reached over and took the cuju ball from Zhao Huan’s arms, bouncing it twice in his hand.
Zhao Huan’s mouth fell open in protest, but after glancing at Li Chengze’s expressionless face, he swallowed the words that had risen to his lips.
“A little. I only just started learning.”
Shi Huai took the ball Li Chengze offered him and bounced it once off his foot. The arc was off, and the ball landed crookedly before rolling several paces away.
Li Chengze bent down to pick it up, then walked over to Shi Huai and placed the ball beside his foot.
“Your posture is wrong. I’ll teach you.”
He crouched down and tapped Shi Huai’s ankle with his long, slender fingers. His voice was low and patient.
“Keep the top of your foot straight. Use this spot to make contact with the ball. Yes, just like that. Try again.”
Shi Huai did as he was told. This time, the ball rose in a much smoother arc than before.
It was still unsteady, but the improvement was obvious.
His eyes lit up, and the corners of his lips curved into a faint smile.
When Li Chengze saw the light in those eyes and that subtle smile, it felt as if someone had reached into his chest and wrung his heart hard. The pain nearly stole his breath.
He immediately rose and retreated two steps, putting some distance between himself and Shi Huai. The cold, rigid expression returned to his face, but a faint flush quietly crept across the tips of his ears.
The Crown Prince stood to one side, watching his cousin put on an air of calm despite being completely smitten. The corners of his lips twitched.
He knew this cousin of his far too well.
In all the years they had grown up together, he had never once seen Li Chengze look at anyone else like that.
Shen Jinghong studied Li Chengze’s face—the face of a man who had clearly fallen for someone but was still stubbornly pretending otherwise—and wore an inscrutable smile.
The Third Prince’s gaze lingered on Li Chengze’s face for a moment before shifting to Shi Huai. Watching Shi Huai lower his head and practice with complete concentration, he gently rubbed his fingers together inside his sleeve.
At last, the cuju match began.
Shi Huai was assigned to the Crown Prince’s team.
His teammates were Li Chengze, Xie Zhaolin, and two other sons of prominent families.
Opposing them were Shen Jinghong, the Third Prince, Zhao Huan, and Wang Ren.
The teams had been arranged personally by the Crown Prince.
He had spent nearly half an hour studying the roster, weighing the interests of all sides again and again before settling on what appeared to be a “fair and reasonable” distribution.
When Shen Jinghong received the list, he let out a cold laugh, his eyes filled with a chill so intense it seemed capable of freezing over.
He said nothing. He simply folded the list and tucked it into his sleeve.
Once the match began, everyone quickly discovered a problem: no one dared to take the ball from Shi Huai.
Whenever a player on the Crown Prince’s team got possession, his first instinct was to look for Shi Huai and pass it to him.
Whenever a player on the opposing team saw Shi Huai charging toward them with the ball, they all made way.
The scene was like Moses parting the Red Sea, a broad avenue splitting open automatically down the middle.
The first time Zhao Huan faced Shi Huai charging toward him with the ball, he stood rooted to the spot as though under a paralyzing spell, watching helplessly as Shi Huai dribbled past him. He did not even make a move to reach out and stop him.
“Zhao Huan, what are you doing? Stop him!”
Shen Jinghong shouted from behind, unmistakable anger in his voice. Yet his gaze remained fixed on Shi Huai’s running figure.
Zhao Huan came back to himself and turned to watch Shi Huai’s retreating back. His lips puckered into a pout.
“I... I couldn’t bring myself to kick at him!”
His voice was full of helplessness and grievance. “What if I hurt him?”
Shen Jinghong was so choked by those words that he nearly stopped breathing. He wanted to argue, but found he could not.
Because if he were facing Shi Huai charging toward him, he would probably freeze in place too, unable to do a thing.
The Third Prince, however, did not move aside.
He met Shi Huai head-on. The two stood facing each other with a cuju ball between them, their gazes colliding.
Shi Huai moved left with the ball, and the Third Prince followed left. Shi Huai moved right, and the Third Prince followed right.
His defensive movements were precise and clean. He did not touch Shi Huai at all, yet stayed so tightly on his path that he left no opening for a breakthrough.
“Your Highness, your defense is excellent. I can’t get past you.”
Shi Huai stopped and looked up at the Third Prince, a hint of a smile on his lips. Fine beads of sweat had gathered across his forehead, glittering in the sunlight.
The Third Prince’s heart raced beneath the brightness of those sparkling eyes. His fingers clenched inside his sleeve until his knuckles turned white, and his throat bobbed once.
“You... You should try again. You might be able to get past me.”
The moment the words left his mouth, the Third Prince wanted to bite his tongue off.
He was defending. This was a match. How could he possibly encourage his opponent to break through his defense?
But when he looked into Shi Huai’s eyes, he simply could not stop himself from saying it.
Shen Jinghong caught up from behind. When he heard the Third Prince’s words, the chill in his eyes deepened further.
He reached out with his foot from the side, trying to hook the ball beneath Shi Huai’s foot. His toe barely grazed the edge of it.
Shi Huai stumbled, his body pitching forward slightly.
In an instant, the entire cuju field seemed to have been frozen in place.
“Shi Huai!”
The Crown Prince was the first to rush over. He grabbed Shi Huai’s arm, his face as pale as paper, his voice trembling.
“Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself? Does your ankle hurt?”
The Third Prince rushed over as well, his light-green riding clothes snapping in the wind.
He crouched down to examine Shi Huai’s ankle. His fingers trembled faintly when they touched Shi Huai’s skin.
Shi Huai steadied himself, lowered his head to look at his ankle, and moved it around.
It was fine. He had only been tripped and startled.
He raised his head and looked at the group surrounding him.
Every one of them looked worse than the person who had nearly fallen.
“I’m fine. I just stumbled. I didn’t fall.”
There was a trace of helplessness in Shi Huai’s voice. He pushed away the Crown Prince’s hand from his arm and hopped twice in place.
Li Chengze walked over, crouched down, and pressed Shi Huai’s ankle.
His strength was neither too light nor too heavy, and his technique was so professional he could have been a military physician.
He straightened and spoke in a low, certain voice. “The bone is fine, and there’s no ligament strain. You can continue.”
After saying this, he stepped back.
But everyone else noticed that Li Chengze was standing closer than before.
Close enough that Shi Huai could touch his arm simply by reaching out.
That scheming dog.
