Chapter 15: Sleeve Arrow

The arrow is painted black, with a shaft of ebony, and a head of mysterious iron. Held in Zhao Yan’s hand, it feels as heavy as a thousand pounds.

As Wen Renlin passed by, he had already selected a suitable bow and arrow from the weapons rack.

It was a fine bow with a draw weight of two stones. Held against his left arm, the elongated shadow stretched all the way to Zhao Yan’s feet, exhibiting a posture as graceful and vigorous as shooting the sun.

Zhao Yan, calm and composed, stepped forward slowly along the slanting shadow on the ground until she stood beside Wen Renlin.

Only then did Wen Renlin take an arrow from the quiver, standing sideways with his feet slightly apart and level with his shoulders, demonstrating the method of drawing the bow and nocking the arrow step by step with clarity.

“The arrow feathers between the index and middle fingers, with the ring finger on the string, push the left arm forward when drawing the string, and keep the right arm level with the left. Aim with your eyes and point with your hand.”

As he demonstrated, Wen Renlin deliberately slowed down each movement, exuding a sense of unhurried elegance. His pale, cold fingers drew the string like a full moon, and the cold light from the iron ring on his index finger reflected on his profile, adding a hint of chilly elegance.

With a relaxed release of his fingers, the arrow “whooshed” off the string, shooting like a flash of lightning through the air.

The arrow pierced the bullseye, with such force that the target trembled and shattered into pieces, the arrow embedding itself three inches into the brick wall of the drill ground, causing cracks to spread like spiderwebs, while the feathers continued to tremble.

Yet even so, the two-stone bow in his hands was nothing more than a child’s toy, a mere warm-up.

With skills like his, he could draw a seven-stone heavy bow from horseback and shoot three arrows simultaneously without missing. His strength and precision were beyond terrifying.

Watching the target in the distance torn apart, Zhao Yan couldn’t help but tighten her grip.

The bow in her hand was the lightest one on the weapon rack, smaller than the one Wen Renlin held, yet it still felt unnervingly heavy. Now it was her turn. Zhao Yan pursed her lips and, imitating Wen Renlin’s posture, stepped forward and drew the bow.

Zhao Yan was frail, skipping royal hunts every year under the pretext of illness, presumably not skilled in archery. In the Palace of Huayang, she rarely had the opportunity to practice mounted archery.

Thus, without needing to feign incompetence, the effortless skill demonstrated by Wen Renlin became riddled with flaws when it came to her. Either the notch of the arrow tail didn’t align with the string, or the arrowhead drooped downward.

After finally drawing the bowstring, her arm trembled with weakness, making it impossible to aim properly at the bullseye. Zhao Yan’s back grew hot, completely focused, not even noticing Wen Renlin’s expression.

Wen Renlin watched the swaying young prince with cool eyes, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. He took another blunt arrow and, using the arrow shaft as a ruler, gently lifted the drooping arrowhead of Zhao Yan, continuously guiding her hand upward.

His arrowhead was not sharpened, yet Zhao Yan could feel the icy metal texture through the fabric, sending shivers down her spine.

The arrow finally stopped at her tense, delicate chin, tapping lightly.

Unconsciously, Zhao Yan lifted her chin, swallowing hard.

The fox fur collar covered the slender neck of the young prince, clean lips devoid of any sign of puberty, lacking the adolescent fuzz.

Wen Renlin coldly stared, “Keep your back straight, don’t lean forward.”

As he spoke, his hand behind her neck naturally reached out, correcting her posture.

With a slight tremor of her fingertips, the arrow was shot off crookedly, hitting the brick ground five zhang away, and fell. Distracted by this interruption, Wen Renlin’s hand behind her neck paused.

Zhao Yan let out a breath, lowering the light bow in her hand, turning around with a sheepish smile, “My strength is too weak, I wonder when I can catch up to the Grand Tutor’s archery skills.”

Wen Renlin stared at her transparent eyes for a moment before retracting his hand and returning it behind his back.

He said, “The bow in the prince’s hand is for teaching young children the basics of archery.”

Implicitly, she was inferior even to a ten-year-old child.

Pretending not to hear the sarcasm in his words, Zhao Yan smiled amiably, “I’ll learn well.”

He took the arrow Zhao Yan had shot from the attendant, running his fingertip along the finely crafted black lacquered arrow shaft, then flicked the tip with his finger, producing a clear, cold metallic sound.

“The prince’s arrow has been sharpened, requiring only a small amount of force to penetrate the hardest breastbone.”

He lowered his gaze, slowly saying, “Unfortunately, the prince missed such a good opportunity.”

Observing Wen Renlin’s expression, she couldn’t detect any hint of joking on his face.

Kill Wen Renlin? This indeed was a good opportunity.

If Zhao Yan were as impulsive and reckless as He Hu, she might have been provoked to murderous intent by now. But she was well aware that this sharp arrow might not reach Wen Renlin’s body, while his hand could easily crush her neck.

She couldn’t discern whether Wen Renlin’s crazed insinuations stemmed from malicious teasing borne out of his amusement, or if there was another intention behind them…

Her intuition told her not to attempt to lie in front of Wen Renlin; it would only bring humiliation upon herself.

“I always find it hard to fathom the Grand Tutor’s thoughts, so sometimes… I do indeed fear him,” Zhao Yan said, reaching out to take the arrow from his hand, trying to make her voice sound more natural and sincere, “But it’s not honorable for someone to harm others in secret, and I despise it as well. Archery is for strengthening the body. His Highness’ words are truly alarming.”

Wen Renlin’s shoulders shook slightly with laughter, his hand lifting to his nose as he turned his head, chuckling softly.

After a while, he calmed down and looked down at the seemingly innocent prince before him, “Let’s start by training your arm strength. Perhaps in your lifetime, Prince, you’ll be able to draw this… light bow? Who knows.”

This time, Zhao Yan clearly saw mockery in his eyes.

She couldn’t help but grind her teeth inwardly. Was teaching the Crown Prince archery not for strengthening his physique, but for leading him into battle?

Forget it. Whether she spoke in Zhao Yan’s tone or not, she could treat Wen Renlin’s mockery as directed at Zhao Yan.

Yet it still angered her! How dare he mock her elder brother!

Zhao Yan spent the entire morning pulling the bow, practicing her arm strength.

Back at the Eastern Palace, her arms felt like lead, aching unbearably. Stiffening her slender arms, she gritted her teeth as fire raced through her veins. She let the attendants knead and relax her muscles, cursing Wen Renlin a hundred times in her heart.

But when she calmed down, she sensed something was amiss.

In Wen Renlin’s words, there seemed to be a hidden warning.

A person as prominent and powerful as the Prince Su never spoke idly. She just didn’t know if his warning was meant for the real Zhao Yan or if he harbored suspicions about her as a counterfeit…

Her heart sank, and Zhao Yan couldn’t help but frown and shiver.

The carriage of the Prince Su’s mansion rolled through the streets.

Inside the swaying carriage, Wen Renlin sat steadily, calmly undoing the wrist guard concealed by his wide sleeves, revealing the small arm wrapped in bandages. The wound had evidently reopened, oozing a tinge of blood from the bandages.

Beside him, Zhang Cang brought over the golden wound medicine, unable to stop his chatter, “Those thieves dared to assassinate, and the Prince’s hand is still injured. Yet he rushed back to give lessons to the Little Prince. If I may say so, he’s a hopeless case…”

“Go and fetch the wrist guard from the storage room.”

Wen Renlin interrupted Zhang Cang’s words as he reapplied the medicine.

“Huh…?” Zhang Cang was stunned. What did the Prince need that girly thing for?

…

After practicing archery for two consecutive days, Zhao Yan’s hands trembled so much that even lifting a pen became difficult.

Even Liu Ying couldn’t bear to see it and quickly had Zhang Xu send over some soothing and invigorating medicinal oil, advising, “Your Highness, not being skilled in archery is not a big mistake. Why push yourself so hard?”

Pressing down on the medicine bottle in Liu Ying’s hand, Zhao Yan felt the pain in her wound and couldn’t help but inhale sharply.

“Do you think I suddenly became diligent and ambitious?”

Dressed as the Crown Prince, her smile was bright, somewhere between a young boy’s and a girl’s, “I did it on purpose. With medicine applied, I’ll recover quickly, and this strategy of pretending to be injured won’t work anymore.”

It wasn’t until the next day that Liu Ying understood the implication of her words.

That day, when Wen Renlin said “strategy, chess, and archery in turns,” Zhao Yan knew it was time for military studies these days, with a lot of writing involved in the lessons.

Although she had been imitating Zhao Yan’s handwriting since she entered the Eastern Palace and had already achieved a resemblance of about eighty or ninety percent, it was evidently not enough to deal with dangerous individuals like the Prince Su. It could be delayed day by day.

Now, with her arms and legs sore like this, even if she tried her best to control it, her writing was as slow as a snail’s pace. Now she didn’t even need to imitate Zhao Yan’s handwriting; even an immortal couldn’t write out the originally elegant characters.

Wen Renlin leaned against his temple with one hand, calmly surveying her rather unsightly handwriting, and after a while, he set it aside.

“Go and fetch what I’ve prepared,” he instructed the attendant behind him.

The attendant quickly brought a lacquered box slightly larger than a palm.

Zhao Yan sat behind the desk, secretly observing his movements.

What is this again? Was Wen Renlin thinking of some new provocation or troublemaking scheme?

While she was lost in thought, he had already opened the box, taking out a delicate brass wrist guard similar to a gold-plated armlet.

Wen Renlin pointed at the desk with his finger, indicating, “Your hand.”

Zhao Yan was puzzled and hesitated to put her hand on the desk. Her nails were neatly trimmed, her palms not as slender and soft as a woman’s, nor as robust and long as a man’s, but rather delicate and fair.

Wen Renlin showed no expression, reaching out to push up her sleeve, revealing her slender wrist.

Zhao Yan instinctively curled her fingers as if facing an enemy.

Sensing her tension, Wen Renlin held the wrist guard in one hand and pinched her shirt sleeve with the other, looking up at her.

Zhao Yan could only suppress her panic of wanting to withdraw her hand, meekly explaining, “My arm still hurts…”

Pulse can change, but a woman’s bone structure cannot be concealed. She feared that Wen Renlin might discover something. But Wen Renlin just refocused his attention on her wrist, slipping the cold metal object onto it, fastening it snugly.

It fit perfectly, with the delicate patterns of three iris flowers shining coldly.

“What… is this?” Zhao Yan asked in a soft voice.

“Sleeve Iris,” Wen Renlin replied.

Seeing her confusion, Wen Renlin explained in simpler terms, “A sleeve dart, a concealed weapon.”

Concealed… weapon?

Zhao Yan was astonished, lifting her left wrist to carefully examine it, realizing that it was indeed not an ordinary wrist guard. There were delicate mechanisms below, connected to a hole as thin as a pinky finger.

“If the crown prince doesn’t want to be shot in the head on the spot, then don’t fiddle with it recklessly,” Wen Renlin warned calmly.

Wen Renlin’s cool voice came through, startling Zhao Yan, who immediately moved the object further away, her sore arms stiffening, no longer daring to touch it casually.

Wen Renlin chuckled and leaned over, pointing to the protruding mechanism on her wrist, “This item is secretive and not easily detected. It doesn’t require much arm strength. Just aim at the target, press this mechanism, and the concealed dart can injure a target within a hundred paces. But there are only three darts, so use them sparingly, Your Highness.”

Zhao Yan felt like she was holding a hot potato and didn’t understand Wen Renlin’s intentions with this.

One couldn’t casually accept things from an opponent, fearing it might bring trouble.

After weighing her options for a moment, Zhao Yan tentatively said, “I have guards from the Eastern Palace by my side, so perhaps I won’t need this item.”

Wen Renlin raised his eyes lazily and said, “Emperor Zhi died from an assassin disguised as a dancer, Emperor Yuan died on his way back to the palace, Prince An died in a boiling pot. Which one of them didn’t have guards by their side when they died?”

Zhao Yan blinked, unable to retort.

She quietly withdrew her hand, hiding the cold concealed weapon tightly in her sleeve, and after a while, she mustered the courage to ask, “Then, Grand Tutor, why did you think to give me this?”

She didn’t believe Wen Renlin chose such a suitable “gift” for her just to accommodate her weak strength.

Wen Renlin looked at her for a long time, his lacquer eyes reflecting the dim light from the window, as if depths of an unfathomable abyss.

He gave a mocking smile, leaned back on the armrest of his chair, and said lightly, “Consider it as a return for the compliments the Crown Prince gave me at the hall.”

The Hall? The covert winter banquet.

Zhao Yan couldn’t remember praising Wen Renlin, but she felt his current expression was inscrutable, as if he could see through her with just a glance. Clearing her throat and clenching her fists, Zhao Yan turned her head away, avoiding his gaze.

The cold wind seeped through the window cracks, dispersing the faint warmth on the desk.

The last winter snowfall of the year quietly descended at this moment, falling gracefully into Wen Renlin’s eyes, which were difficult to discern in the dim light.

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