The moon-white cloak slipped from Shi Huai’s shoulders, revealing a riding outfit in the same shade beneath.
A faint flush from exertion still lingered on his cheeks. Damp strands of hair clung to his forehead, and several beads of sweat slid along the curve of his face before gathering beneath his chin, trembling on the verge of falling.
Princess Jinse watched as the bead dropped from Shi Huai’s chin onto the moon-white collar of his tunic, spreading into a small, dark patch of dampness.
Her throat bobbed once. Then she abruptly lowered her head and buried her face in Tangerine’s fur.
Startled by the sudden movement, Tangerine let out a startled “meow,” leaped from her arms, and darted to Shi Huai’s feet.
Then the cat turned and gave Princess Jinse an accusatory look, as if saying, “How could you do that?”
Qinghe entered carrying a cup of tea, set it on the table beside Princess Jinse, and withdrew. At the doorway, she secretly glanced back at Shi Huai. Seeing that his collar was soaked, she hurried off to fetch a dry cloth.
“Young Master, wipe your sweat. You don’t want to catch a chill.”
Qinghe handed him the cloth, accompanied by her usual nagging concern.
Shi Huai took it, casually wiped his face twice, and handed it back.
Princess Jinse sat in her chair with both hands cupping her cheeks, watching Shi Huai wipe away his sweat without blinking.
Seeing his long, slender fingers move the cloth across his cheek, her heart began to race again.
She couldn’t help regretting her decision to attend that wretched birthday banquet.
If she hadn’t gone, she could have watched Shi Huai play on the cuju field. She could have seen him run with the ball.
Perhaps she might even have been able to teach him something herself, just as Brother Crown Prince had, guiding his hands step by step.
“Master Shi, how did you do at cuju today?”
Princess Jinse lowered her hands and leaned forward slightly, unable to hide her curiosity and envy.
Shi Huai sat down across from her and took a sip of the tea Qinghe had brought. “It was all right. I scored a goal, but I spent most of the time running.”
“You scored a goal? Master Shi, you scored the first time you ever played?”
Princess Jinse’s eyes widened, and her voice rose several notes.
“Brother Crown Prince said he had to teach you even the basic moves, and you still scored?”
Her exaggerated reaction made Shi Huai feel a little embarrassed. He set down his teacup, a faint smile touching his lips.
“I was just lucky. The ball happened to roll right to my feet, so I kicked it—and it went in.”
Hearing this, Princess Jinse felt even more sour.
Brother Crown Prince had not only taught Shi Huai the basics himself—he had also witnessed the exact moment Shi Huai scored.
And all she could do was sit here and listen to Shi Huai dismiss it with a casual, “I was just lucky.”
“Master Shi, could you let me know the next time you play cuju? I don’t know how to play, but I can cheer for you.”
There was a hint of cautious pleading in Princess Jinse’s voice.
Shi Huai looked at the expectant eyes before him and nodded. “Of course. I’ll have someone send the princess an invitation ahead of time the next time we play.”
A broad smile bloomed across Princess Jinse’s face.
It was as radiant as the first peach blossom to open in spring, carrying all the innocence and pure sweetness unique to a young girl.
Tangerine leaped from Shi Huai’s feet onto his lap and rubbed its head against his palm, letting out a soft “meow.”
The sound was gentle and sweet, as if saying, “Take me with you, too.”
Shi Huai lowered his eyes to glance at Tangerine and flicked the cat lightly on the head.
“You’ll be frightened if you go. The last time I took you out to play, you were so scared that you crawled into my arms and refused to come out. You even snagged and tore my clothes with your claws.”
Tangerine narrowed its eyes after being flicked. Not only did it show no embarrassment, but it pushed its head deeper into Shi Huai’s palm.
Its purring grew even louder than before, and its expression seemed to say, “I’m sticking with you anyway.”
Princess Jinse watched the shameless orange cat, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly.
No wonder she and the Crown Prince were siblings.
At this moment, they were perfectly in sync—both envying a cat.
A cat that could rub against Shi Huai’s hand without a care in the world, curl up on his lap for a nap, and let him flick it on the forehead.
Princess Jinse drew a deep breath and suppressed all those jumbled thoughts. She picked up the teacup from the table and took a sip.
The tea was fine Longjing, sweet on the tongue with a lingering aftertaste. Yet she couldn’t taste a thing.
Her mind was filled with the image of Shi Huai wiping away his sweat. The bead of water sliding from his chin felt as though someone had branded it onto her heart with a red-hot iron.
It burned. It hurt. And she was hopelessly addicted to it.
Princess Jinse set down her teacup and summoned her courage.
“Master Shi, could you teach me to write a poem? Just one. I need to hand it in.”
“Hand what in?” Shi Huai raised his eyes to look at her, a trace of puzzlement at the corners of his lips.
Princess Jinse’s face immediately flushed, the redness spreading from the base of her neck all the way to the tips of her ears, as though he had seen through some unspeakable secret.
“It’s… it’s an assignment from the Grand Tutor. He asked each of us to write a poem praising an object. I’ve thought and thought, but I can’t decide what to write about, so I wanted to ask Master Shi for some guidance.”
Her excuse was reasonably convincing.
But Shi Huai noticed her crimson ears and the slight trembling of her fingers. He realized that the princess was not truly seeking advice on poetry—she had merely found an excuse to see him.
He did not expose her. Instead, he nodded, rose, and walked to the writing desk. He spread out a sheet of xuan paper, lifted his brush, and dipped it in ink. The tip paused lightly above the paper.
“What would the princess like to write about?”
Princess Jinse followed him to the desk and stood beside him, watching as he lowered his gaze to write.
Candlelight fell across his face, making his features look as though they had been carved from the finest white jade.
“A… a cat.”
Princess Jinse’s gaze fell upon the orange cat by the window, which was busy licking its paws. Her mind went completely blank, and the only word she could come up with was that one.
Shi Huai glanced at Tangerine, the corners of his lips curving faintly upward, and then wrote several words on the paper.
Princess Jinse lowered her head to watch. One character after another took shape beneath the brush.
From “orange cat” to “lazily reclining,” from “lazily reclining” to “knows no sorrow”—each word seemed to come alive and dance across the paper.
As she watched, her gaze drifted from the page to Shi Huai’s hand.
His hands were long and fair, his knuckles distinct without being prominent. His fingertips were rounded and full, his nails neatly trimmed. The way he held the brush made it seem as though he were creating a work of art.
Princess Jinse’s breath caught. She quickly looked away, her heart pounding as if it might leap straight from her throat. Her palms were slick with sweat, and beneath her sleeves, her fingers twisted together until her knuckles turned white.
Shi Huai finished writing, set down the brush, and lifted the sheet to blow gently on the wet ink. Then he handed it to Princess Jinse.
“Princess, what do you think? Will this do?”
Princess Jinse accepted the paper and lowered her head to read the words.
The poem was excellent—far better than she had expected. Every character was perfectly placed, and every line flowed as naturally as if it had been born that way.
“The sun has climbed three poles, yet still it sleeps,
With rounded belly and short paws, it toddles deep.
It cares not for the world’s tumult and strife;
A quiet corner is its home and life.”
