The name has been updated from ‘Wen Renlin’ to ‘Wenren Lin.’ Apologies for the error.

Chapter 66: Snuggle

Zhao Yan pinched the soft pink paw of the lion cat and gestured slightly. “A gift from someone below. I don’t know how to raise it, but I remembered the Grand Tutor always shows affection for stray cats in the palace, so I brought it here.”

Wenren Lin replied knowingly, “Is Your Highness offering flowers in the name of Buddha?”

“Mhm, yes. So, does this Buddha like the flower?”

As she spoke, Zhao Yan tilted her head slightly, observing Wenren Lin’s expression.

The little thing peeking out from her sleeve followed suit, tilting its head and blinking its round eyes. The expressions and actions of the person and the cat were uncannily alike.

Wenren Lin’s gaze softened, and a faint smile appeared in his eyes.

He took the warm, soft little creature in both hands, holding the lion cat by its front paws and lifting it up. Then, facing the warm light of late summer, he gently pressed his nose to the cat’s.

Zhao Yan looked at his straight nose bridge and, for some reason, suddenly recalled the rare moments they kissed—how his thick lashes would droop, and his high nose would brush against her cheek…

“What’s Your Highness thinking about so deeply?”

…

…

At some point, Wenren Lin glanced at her, holding the spoiled lion cat with one hand as he scrutinized her.

Zhao Yan awkwardly averted her gaze, then resolutely looked back. She noticed a few cat hairs clinging to the black collar of Wenren Lin’s robe and couldn’t help but smile.

“The Grand Tutor truly loves cats.”

She relaxed a bit, adjusted her sleeves, and added, “Now the Grand Tutor has a cat of his own.”

“A cat? I’ve had one for a long time.”

Wenren Lin’s smile was deep and mysterious as he looked meaningfully at Zhao Yan and walked to sit beside her.

Zhao Yan was sitting on a meditation chair, longer than a normal seat. Even so, it was a bit cramped for two, their garments brushing and arms touching.

Wenren Lin raised his well-shaped hand and gently stroked the lion cat, from its head down its back, then gave its pink ear a light squeeze.

Sitting so close, Zhao Yan could feel even his slightest movement—she could sense the firm muscles in his arm moving as he stroked the cat.

She quietly shifted away a little, when suddenly Wenren Lin said, “This tabby’s fur is still lacking.”

“Oh?”

When bringing the cat over, Zhao Yan had specifically asked Li Fu to clean and groom it—it shouldn’t be dirty or unpleasant to touch.

She leaned over Wenren Lin’s leg, reaching out to feel the cat’s back. The fur beneath her palm was smooth as silk…

Still half in doubt, she saw Wenren Lin lift his free arm and, in one smooth motion, circle it around Zhao Yan’s shoulders. His hand moved from her half-tied hair down to her slender waist, the pads of his fingers lightly patting her.

Zhao Yan trembled suddenly, and Wenren Lin’s affectionate voice sounded above her head:

“No matter how soft the snow or jade in this world, none can compare to Your Highness.”

Zhao Yan retorted in annoyance, “Should I thank the Grand Tutor for such praise?”

But Wenren Lin shook his head, his chin brushing the top of her head, and said,

“Just the truth. Your Highness needs only accept it gladly.”

Zhao Yan could hear the amusement in his tone and, realizing he was in a good mood, chose not to argue further.

“Your Highness should give this little beast a name,” Wenren Lin said in his low voice.

Oh, she had forgotten!

Zhao Yan looked at the lion cat’s snowy, fluffy fur and searched her literary knowledge. After thinking a bit, she said, “Its whole body is like snow. How about calling it ‘Xue Nu’ (Fierce Snow)?”

“Whatever Your Highness says, then that’s its name. Even if you call it Dung Ball, it’s fine.”

“You—!”

Even the little cat seemed to understand that and pawed at Wenren Lin in protest, letting out a soft meow.

“Let’s go with Snow Slave then—vulgar or not, it’ll do.”

Zhao Yan’s arm went numb from the low laugh that rumbled from Wenren Lin’s chest. She gave him a feeble glare and added, “Li Fu said cats tend to run off before they’re properly tamed—don’t forget to close the windows.”

Wenren Lin raised the corners of his eyes slightly, smiling as he said, “I have many affairs to attend to. When things get busy, I may not have time to look after it. However, Your Highness is welcome to come visit often and take care of it.”

But how could Zhao Yan not see that he might be setting a trap, baiting her to walk right into it?

She snorted softly. “I also have many affairs to attend to. How about this—when you’re too busy to take care of it, just have someone bring it to the Eastern Palace…”

As she spoke, something began to feel off.

The way they were talking—it sounded strangely like parents discussing how to raise a child? Zhao Yan furrowed her brows slightly, her expression turning a little odd.

The setting sun cast long shadows, and the quiet light nestled beneath the lattice window.

Wenren Lin took in her small expressions, and after a while, gently pressed his nose to her temple. “Just like this is good.”

Right now was good enough—being at a distance where he could feel her warmth, yet not close enough to hurt her.

Anything more… he couldn’t give.

“What?” Zhao Yan didn’t understand what he meant.

Wenren Lin twirled a lock of her hair that rested on her shoulder, his face full of calm indulgence.

Later that evening, after Zhao Yan had returned to the Eastern Palace, she received a small jar of Zi Luo Yi wine that Wenren Lin had someone deliver.

A familiar eunuch wiped his sweat and smiled as he said, “His Highness said this wine has a strong aftereffect. Please, Your Highness, don’t overindulge. Once you’ve finished it, you can ask him for more.”

Zhao Yan instructed Liu Ying to reward the eunuch for running the errand, then sat on her couch with the little wine jar in her arms, gently sniffing the sweet fruity fragrance wafting out.

She curled her lips in contentment, letting the smile spread to the corners of her eyes, where it tinged the small tear mole with a flush of red.

A cool breeze blew away the heat from the earth’s surface, and the sense of autumn quietly arrived with a sudden rain.

---

Left Chancellor’s Manor, in the quiet garden, rain dripped off the banana leaves, striking the steps with crisp, clear sounds.

“You found it?”

Left Chancellor Li Kexing stood beneath the eaves in casual home clothes, as though already anticipating something. His solemn face was shadowed by a layer of somber grief.

“Yes.”

Zhou Ji stood a step behind his teacher, the outlines of his bones still visible beneath his scholar’s robe. He replied,

“I visited scholars who had crossed paths with junior brother. Some classmates had copied his response to Mr. Linjiang’s essay question. I found one of the copies—through it, we can roughly deduce his actions before death. Yesterday, I also paid respects to Uncle Shen, which confirmed our suspicions.”

As he spoke, he pulled a manuscript from his sleeve and respectfully handed it to Li Kexing.

Li Kexing took the document, unfolded it under the fading light, and began to read carefully.

The more he read, the graver his expression became. He asked, “Wanlan, what’s your opinion on this essay?”

Zhou Ji replied, “It’s well-supported by references, strikes straight at the core, and is a thunderous declaration not heard in a century. It is worthy of your teachings, Teacher.”

“You agree with his political argument?”

“No. Though I do not share his views, as a gentleman, I value harmony without uniformity. Junior brother knew it was a lost cause yet still chose to act, bleeding for his words, laying down his bones to pave the road. I can only feel respect.”

Li Kexing nodded in approval.

These two prized disciples of his—

One was born into an official family, yet kept a heart pure and devoted to the people.

The other, though he disagreed with his peer’s political ideals, still responded with the highest respect.

This was the demeanor of a true gentleman.

This was the pair of unblemished pearls that shone brightest among all under his tutelage.

“Such a pity… such sorrow! Jingming was only eighteen!”

Li Kexing looked up and sighed long, tears shimmering at the corners of his eyes. After a long while, he shook his head and said,

“He was too young, and thought too simply of state affairs and court politics. It’s also my fault—I taught him how to write and reason, but not how to survive… Bold strokes and sharp blades—such rigidity is easy to break. A tree that rises above the forest is the first to be struck by the wind. Wanlan, you must take this to heart and act cautiously.”

“I will remember your teachings.”

Li Kexing looked down again at the copied essay in his hands, a mix of admiration and regret in his eyes. Grief threatened his balance, and he nearly staggered.

Zhou Ji quickly stepped forward, supporting his teacher’s arms with both hands.

“Please take care of your health, Teacher.”

Li Kexing waved his hand dismissively, carefully storing away Shen Jingming’s final work. He staggered back into the house and sighed deeply as he sat down.

“I called you here today for another matter of importance.”

“Please speak, Teacher. I’m listening.”

“On the twelfth day of the eighth month, the Imperial Lecture (Jingyan) will commence. His Majesty has instructed me to preside over it. You know well that the purpose of the Jingyan is twofold: one, for the monarch and ministers to discuss state policy; two, to select talented individuals for important positions. This is a good opportunity.”

Li Kexing took the tea cup personally brewed by Zhou Ji, and said solemnly,

“There has been constant unrest in Luo Prefecture, and the state treasury is exhausted. The Policy to Expand Revenue(Kaiyuan Ce) cannot be delayed any longer. For the Jingyan’s lesson on the Zhou Rites, it will be your task to teach it—make sure you do it well.”

Over the years, Li Kexing had constantly pondered how to patch the massive hole in the imperial treasury.

However, being from the Luoyang aristocracy, he naturally wouldn’t cut into his own interests. His proposals were milder, more conservative than those of the younger generation. If costs couldn’t be reduced, then income had to be increased—this was at least one way to relieve the grave illness plaguing the Great Xuan empire.

Zhou Ji understood what his teacher meant. The old master was aging. Before retiring, he needed to find a successor—someone to speak on behalf of the Luoyang nobility in court.

“There’s one more personal matter.”

Li Kexing cleared his throat, his stern expression softening slightly.

“You’re not young anymore. Your father has sent letters to me several times, asking if there are any suitable, virtuous young ladies in court who would be a good match for you. I believe… this is ultimately your own choice. Wanlan, since returning to the capital, have you met any woman who’s caught your eye?”

Zhou Ji paused slightly, images of vague faces flashing through his mind.

Li Kexing observed his silence and hesitation, kindly encouraging,

“Go ahead and tell me. I can make the arrangements for you.”

Zhou Ji lowered his head, and after a moment, replied clearly and coolly,

“This student only wishes to befriend books and writings—there is no one I am fond of.”

“You…”

This prized student of his was perfect in every way, except that he was a little dense when it came to worldly matters.

Li Kexing feared that by the time Zhou Ji realized what it meant to like someone, it would already be too late.

He looked at Zhou Ji and let out a long sigh.

“You’re all rare talents of the century… but each of you should at least leave behind a legacy.”

---

Ever since Zhao Yan’s birthday banquet ended in peril, the Eastern Palace had remained calm for a long while.

The storm came to an abrupt end with Prince Yong’s suicide in fear of punishment, leaving behind a rare stretch of peace and quiet—so serene, it almost felt like a dream.

Zhao Yan moved back and forth in a daze between Chongwen Hall and the Eastern Palace, suddenly beginning to question her purpose for still remaining there. She still hadn’t figured out why the final stage of this struggle had ended so smoothly.

In early August, Zhao Yan was summoned to Taiji Hall to report on her role as an observer for the upcoming Jingyan, but was shocked to hear that a rebellion had erupted in Luo Prefecture, with starving civilians capturing thirteen counties, large and small.

The emperor slammed the urgent memorial—delivered over a hundred miles in haste—onto his desk. Though he said not a word in anger, the ministers and eunuchs in the hall all dropped to their knees in fear.

Zhao Yan also knelt, listening to her father pacing back and forth before finally speaking:

“The Crown Prince may withdraw. Proceed with the Jingyan as usual.”

“Your son obeys.”

Zhao Yan kowtowed and rose to leave the hall. As she did, she heard her father say:

“Where is Prince Su? Go summon Prince Su immediately!”

Zhao Yan hadn’t seen Wenren Lin for several days. He was not at the He Gui Pavilion, and even his cat, had been handed over to the eunuchs for care.

She couldn’t leave the palace and didn’t know whether he had returned to the Prince Su Manor.

As the start of another new month approached, Zhao Yan began to worry—had his poison flared up again without antidote? Could his life be in danger…?

Her thoughts spiraled wildly. She was so lost in her imagination that she didn’t notice when she bumped into someone head-on.

Startled, Zhao Yan stumbled back a step—then felt a pair of strong hands steady her, and a low voice asked:

“What were you thinking about?”

Dark-colored robes. Zhao Yan caught the familiar scent of cold frost and snow herbs.

Surprised, she looked up to see Wenren Lin’s pale, cool face bearing a half-smile, half-smirk. For a moment, she didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried.

Strange… wasn’t the Daoist Shenguāng Zhenren already dead?

And the last pill had already been used—so why did Wenren Lin still carry that medicinal scent of the elixir?

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