At daybreak, the morning lessons for the princes in the palace had just ended. Duke Jin’an, already restless from sitting too long, was the first to dash out.
“Brother, wait for me!” the Second Prince called out as he quickly got to his feet.
The First Prince, still holding a scroll, looked up with a faint sneer before lowering his head again to continue reading.
“Brother, where are you going?” the Second Prince shouted.
Duke Jin’an halted and turned to hush him.
“Your Highness, mind your decorum,” he said with a chuckle, placing a hand over his chest. “I’m feeling a bit unwell—just going back to rest for a while.”
At these words, the Second Prince looked alarmed. He frantically waved his hands and turned to glance at the nearby palace attendants.
“None of you—none of you are allowed to say a word!” he said, trying to look intimidating.
The attendants all bowed their heads and murmured their assent, though whether they actually intended to keep silent was another matter. Sure enough, when the Second Prince stepped forward again, two attendants moved to block his path.
“Your Highness, the Empress is still waiting,” they whispered softly.
The Second Prince grew annoyed and, out of spite, tried to circle around them.
Duke Jin’an burst out laughing.
“Your Highness, go on ahead,” he said, giving the Second Prince a wink. “I’ll be fine after a little rest.”
Before the Second Prince could protest further, the attendants coaxed and all but carried him off.
“Your Highness, what are you doing?”
Once there was no one else around, Duke Jin’an’s attendant finally asked in a low, anxious voice, puzzled and uneasy.
“You’re perfectly fine—why did you say you were unwell?”
Duke Jin’an reached up and lightly touched his chest.
“I am a bit unwell—my throat hurts,” he said, striding forward with a spring in his step.
Sure enough, as soon as they returned to his quarters, someone arrived from the Empress Dowager’s side—accompanied by the imperial doctor.
The doctor conducted a careful examination.
“It’s nothing serious, just some internal heat,” he said, while prescribing some medicinal pills.
“Her Majesty said His Highness has been studying too hard,” the attendant relayed after listening closely to the doctor. With a touch of concern, he added, “You’re to skip your lessons for the next few days—and you don’t need to go greet Her Majesty either. Just rest and recover properly.”
Duke Jin’an bowed deeply, expressing his gratitude for the Empress Dowager’s kindness.
The attendant offered a few more words of concern before taking his leave. Everything appeared to proceed just as it always had.
Outside, the attendant paused in his steps and turned to glance back at the now-closed doors of the hall.
He still remembered the first time that child had fallen ill.
After being left in the palace by his parents, the noble ladies—many of whom were pregnant at the time—often fought over who could keep him by their side. But a child was still a child, and children inevitably fall sick.
Once he became ill, those same noble ladies were terrified of being infected. Fearing for their own health and their unborn children, they all kept their distance.
With heirs so precious in the palace, the Empress Dowager was naturally afraid something worse might happen. So she had the child moved to a secluded side hall and ordered that he be kept indoors, under strict care, not allowed to leave.
What could a five-year-old possibly understand? His parents had already left him behind, and now he was suddenly taken away again and locked up. To such a young child, it must have felt like the sky was falling.
He remembered it vividly: when the doors of the hall were shut, the terrified child burst into sobs, clinging to the door with reddened hands caught painfully in the crack.
The attendant let out a sigh. It was as if he could still hear the sound of that child crying echoing in his ears.
But in the end, it wasn’t such a big deal. Later on, he gradually got used to it—the crying became less and less frequent, and eventually, he became remarkably well-behaved. Whenever he felt even slightly unwell, he would quietly curl up inside the palace hall on his own, waiting patiently for his body to recover.
He even became diligent about training and strengthening himself. As long as he stayed healthy, he wouldn’t fall sick—then he wouldn’t be locked away again…
In the blink of an eye, he had grown so much. No longer was he that small, frightened child who once thought he might die just from getting sick.
Before long, he would leave the palace and head to his fief.
The attendant nodded once more, then turned and walked away.
Inside the hall, the attendant watched as Duke Jin’an knelt and sat down, calmly preparing tea.
“All right, you may go now,” the duke said, waving his hand with a smile.
“What about these pills…” the attendant asked.
Duke Jin’an casually tossed the pills into the brazier and waved his hand again.
“Then… was Your Highness only pretending to be unwell?” the attendant asked.
“No,” Duke Jin’an replied. “I really am.”
The attendant immediately stood up, visibly anxious.
“Then I’ll go fetch Doctor Li,” he said in a low, tense voice.
In the entire palace, the only medicine the duke ever trusted enough to take was the kind prescribed by Doctor Li.
“No need,” the duke said, pulling out a tightly pressed tea cake and waving it at him. “I’ve got this medicine.”
That?
The attendant stepped forward. A tea cake?
“Your Highness…” he said, with a tone of mild disapproval.
“Don’t worry. This is all I need,” Duke Jin’an replied, smiling. “With this, I’m not afraid anymore.”
Not afraid of anyone noticing he was sick. Not afraid of being sick. Not afraid of being locked away all alone.
With medicine from an immortal, what was there to fear?
Once he took it, he’d be like an immortal himself.
Duke Jin’an burst out laughing.
The attendant, already retreating toward the doorway, was startled. He looked up and saw the young man breaking off a piece of tea cake and placing it on the rack to roast.
Was preparing tea really so amusing?
The attendant frowned, then shook his head. But there was no real need to worry—His Highness was no longer the frightened child who used to be terrified that a single whispered word about illness from a junior eunuch might get him quietly buried somewhere.
Now, he had trusted attendants close to him who kept him informed, a reliable imperial doctor he could depend on, and beyond that, the loyal guards which had been carefully chosen and refined over ten years.
With the support of these seemingly insignificant followers, he should be able to achieve his goal.
And his goal was simple:
To survive.
To live safely until he could leave this imperial city where half the people wanted him to live and the other half wanted him dead.
To live safely until he reached his fief without incident.
As for what came after… they hadn’t thought that far.
People didn’t really need to think that far ahead—did they?
The attendant pulled the door shut, cutting off the view.
“Aren’t you going out?”
Qin Shi’san looked at Zhou Liu-lang and asked.
Zhou Liu-lang’s hair was still damp. As he sat down at the desk, he wiped it haphazardly with a towel.
“I want to read through the military texts again,” he said.
Qin Shi’san looked at him.
“Zhou Liu, what’s the point of this?” he asked.
“What’s wrong with me? I didn’t study hard before—can’t I at least try to catch up now, even if it’s last-minute?” Zhou Liu-lang muttered.
Qin Shi’san stood up and walked away.
The room fell silent. Zhou Liu-lang stared at the book in his hands—though he hadn’t actually opened it. Slowly, he clenched it tighter, then slammed it down on the table with a thud.
“Doesn’t feel great, does it?”
Qin Shi’san’s voice came from the doorway, his head leaning in from outside.
Zhou Liu-lang jumped to his feet.
“Qin Shi’san! What’s wrong with you? Is this fun for you?” he shouted, glaring.
Qin Shi’san strolled in slowly, a faint smile on his face.
“Quite fun, actually,” he said. “Turns out it really is more entertaining once your legs are healed—otherwise, you’d never know how satisfying it is to hide and jump out just to scare someone.”
Zhou Liu-lang spat in annoyance, then turned and strode toward the door.
“Alright, alright, quit messing around,” Qin Shi’san said. “Things are different now. If you leave again for another three or five years, things will be even more different when you return. Change is inevitable—so why not enjoy the moment while you can?”
Zhou Liu-lang stopped at the threshold.
“That’s all I wanted to say. After all the noise today, before you go, come sit and have a drink with us,” Qin Shi’san said. “Or… do you really not want to see her one last time before you leave?”
Zhou Liu-lang said nothing. He didn’t turn around either.
“I’ve already seen her, and I invited her on your behalf. Want to guess what she said?” Qin Shi’san added.
Who cares what she said!
Zhou Liu-lang sneered inwardly.
“She said, ‘I’m not him, so I don’t know if he wants to see me or not,’” Qin Shi’san said. As he spoke, he walked over to Zhou Liu-lang and bumped him lightly on the arm. “Hey, give me an answer so I can reply to her.”
Don’t know if he wants to see me or not…
Pfft, how sly. How could she not know? Who would want to see her?
“I have my own mouth and legs. I don’t need you,” Zhou Liu-lang said, turning his head to glare at him.
“I’m just afraid you’re scared. I’m here to keep you company, isn’t that enough?” Qin Shi’san chuckled.
Zhou Liu-lang snorted.
“No need to be afraid. I’m not going to let her get the best of me,” he said.
Qin Shi’san scoffed.
“Looks like my legs are healed, but the shame I carry will last a lifetime,” he said.
The two were teasing and laughing at each other when a young servant hurriedly ran in from outside.
“Young Master! Young Master!” he called out.
Zhou Liu-lang frowned slightly as he looked at the boy.
“Is this the servant you left at the door?” Qin Shi’san asked, glancing at the boy. “What about Lady Cheng? Now that your parents won’t turn her away if she comes by, could it be she’s come personally to see you?”
“Would she be that kind of person?” Zhou Liu-lang asked, though his heart couldn’t help but beat faster.
“She’s not that kind of person,” Qin Shi’san said with a smile.
Zhou Liu-lang shot him a sharp look.
They bantered back and forth as the servant stood still in the corridor.
“Young Master, there’s someone outside,” he said, pointing with his hand.
“Is it Lady Cheng who’s come?” Qin Shi’san asked eagerly.
Definitely not…
Zhou Liu-lang clenched his fist, but when the servant nodded, he stiffened.
Then the servant shook his head.
“It’s not Lady Cheng. It’s someone from Lady Cheng’s family in Jiang-zhou. That person said… it’s, it’s Lady Cheng’s fiancé,” he said.
Fiancé!
Qin Shi’san and Zhou Liu-lang exchanged a glance, both stunned.
