The tutor leaned back, folding his arms across his broad chest with absolute confidence. This was a notorious, highly convoluted historical trap—a contradictory legal paradox that had stumped third-year scholars at the Imperial Academy for generations, specifically designed to force students into an impossible logical corner.
Wen Yu tilted his head, his wide, innocent eyes blinking with vacant confusion. "Prince Chen’s ascension... under the Edict of Year Forty-Six?"
[Wait a minute,] Wen Yu’s internal voice shifted instantly from chaotic laughter to sharp, razor-focused editor mode. [The Third Dynasty lineage disputes?! Are you kidding me right now?! I spent three entire weeks editing a massive, eight-hundred-thousand-word webnovel manuscript set in that exact historical era! The author kept trying to use Prince Chen’s ascension as a major plot point, and I had to cross-reference five different historical footnotes to fix his broken timeline!]
"If you cannot answer, you may state so immediately and accept twenty demerit marks on your daily record," Tutor Lin sneered, reaching for his red ink brush with a smug, dismissive flick.
"Ah... if this humble one may speak," Wen Yu began softly, raising his timid, fluttering gaze to meet the old tutor’s eyes. "Was Prince Chen’s ascension not actually an invalid legal precedent that only succeeded because of an egregious clerical oversight in the original legislative draft?"
Tutor Lin’s hand froze inches above his inkstone. "A... a clerical oversight?!"
"Yes, Grand Tutor," Wen Yu replied, dropping his timid tone just half a degree into a calm, steady rhythm, though he kept his posture impeccably respectful. "The Edict of Year Forty-Six specifically relied on Section Eight, Sub-Clause Four regarding maternal succession. However, if one actually reads the original archival text preserved in the Grand Secretariat, the scribe accidentally used the character for ’temporary guardianship’ instead of ’hereditary entitlement.’ The Supreme Court of Elders didn’t validate his claim based on legal precedent at all; they merely covered up the drafting error to avoid public embarrassment during a northern military crisis."
Tutor Lin dropped his red brush, the wet tip splattering a messy drop of ink across his pristine white sleeve. His eyes bulged as he stared at the young consort in absolute, speechless horror. "How... how could you possibly know about the scribal variant in Sub-Clause Four?! That detail is only discussed in private academic commentaries!"
"Oh, it goes far beyond a simple scribal variant, Tutor Lin," Wen Yu added smoothly, his editor brain completely taking the wheel as he casually picked up his own ink brush. "In fact, if I recall correctly, a prominent scholar published a thesis on this very topic about ten years ago—titled A Re-examination of Third Dynasty Imperial Precedent, authored by a certain Master Lin of the Capital Bureau."
[Oh, yes! I remember reading that exact reference paper during my research rabbit hole!] Wen Yu cheered internally, his mental persona violently pounding a gavel onto a desk. [Tutor Lin, you absolute fraud! You wrote that paper back when you still had functional academic integrity, but you completely missed the third-paragraph loophole on page fourteen because you didn’t check the cross-referenced tax registry!]
Tutor Lin’s face went from purple to a pale, ghostly white. "You... you have read my early treatise?"
"I have indeed, Grand Tutor," Wen Yu murmured breathily, pitching his voice back into a soft, reverent whisper while casting his eyes demurely downward. "It was a truly fascinating read. Though... if this foolish provincial one might dare to offer a tiny observation... Master Lin’s argument in Chapter Three contained a rather significant structural flaw. He overlooked the fact that the provincial tax registries for that year completely invalidated Prince Chen’s maternal land claims, meaning his entire legal defense was built upon a falsified financial audit."
Silence fell over the main hall like a heavy lead curtain.
Tutor Lin stood motionless, his mouth opening and closing like a landed carp as he tried to find a single rebuttal. The legal flaw Wen Yu had just casually pointed out was so devastatingly accurate, so academically precise, that it completely dismantled the central thesis the tutor had built his early career upon.
[Boom! Mic drop!] Wen Yu roared inside his head, his internal stream exploding into celebratory fireworks. [That is how a modern senior editor handles a peer-review correction! You tried to bring a lazy historical trap to a fight against someone who corrects plot holes for a living! Go back to the editorial drawing board, old man!]
Xie Yan, still standing silently in the doorway, had to press his hand firmly against his dark mouth to muffle the low, rich laughter vibrating in his chest. The absolute absurdity of his timid, provincial spouse effortlessly executing a high-level academic assassination on the most feared tutor in the capital was the most glorious thing the general had ever witnessed.
Tutor Lin slowly lowered his hands, his stiff, arrogant posture deflating entirely. He looked at the neatly stacked flashcards on the floor, then at the young man sitting serenely before him in simple morning robes. The old man took a deep, shuddering breath, smoothed his long sleeves, and dropped into a deep, formal ninety-degree bow—a sign of utmost professional respect reserved only for fellow grand scholars.
"Consort Wen," Tutor Lin said, his voice quiet, steady, and devoid of its former malice. "Your academic rigor and historical precision are... staggering. There is nothing this humble teacher can impart to one who sees through legal fluff with such effortless clarity."
"Grand Tutor, you overpraise this foolish servant," Wen Yu stammered out loud, fluttering his eyelashes in mock panic as he quickly bowed back.
"I shall return to the Imperial Academy and inform the court that your etiquette and instruction are complete," Tutor Lin stated firmly, gathering his scrolls and wooden ruler into his leather satchel. "May the Supreme General’s household remain prosperous."
With a final, deeply respectful nod, the ancient scholar turned on his heel and walked out of the estate, his steps far faster and more flustered than when he had arrived.
The moment the heavy courtyard gates closed behind the tutor, Wen Yu let out a long, un-courtly sigh, his shoulders instantly slumping by three inches as he leaned his back against the table leg.
"If I have to cite one more historical sub-clause today, my brain is going to melt straight out of my ears," Wen Yu muttered softly to himself, rubbing his sore neck.
"A truly terrifying performance, Consort Wen," a deep, rumbling voice sounded from the doorway.
Wen Yu jumped slightly, looking up to see Xie Yan striding smoothly into the hall, his dark armor clinking softly with every heavy step. The general’s dark eyes were burning with intense, intoxicating pride and wicked mirth.
"G-General!" Wen Yu squeaked out, quickly straightening his posture while his cheeks flushed a sudden, delicate pink. "I... I hope I did not displease you by arguing with the Grand Tutor..."
Wen Yu panicked internally, his mental voice racing at high speed. [I was supposed to look like a docile, sweet spouse, not a terrifying academic tyrant who demolishes senior scholars before breakfast!]
Xie Yan stopped directly in front of him, leaning down until his dark eyes were level with Wen Yu’s flushed face. He reached out, his warm, calloused hand gently catching Wen Yu’s chin, his thumb brushing lightly over his lower lip.
"Displease me?" Xie Yan whispered softly, a slow, breathtaking smirk curving his lips as he felt the frantic, adorable racing of his husband’s heart. "My little editor... I have never been more thoroughly captivated in my entire life."
"Wait, did you just call me a... an editor, General?" Wen Yu stammered, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes widened in absolute, sheer panic.