That day, the Furong Pavilion was bustling.
Rare medicinal herbs and delightful trinkets had already arrived from Shouyang Palace and Xingning Palace, but that was only the beginning—Eunuch Kang soon appeared as well. He led in a line of young eunuchs, each bearing a tray. Gold, silver, and jade filled them in dazzling abundance.
Chun Feng’s eyes darted from one treasure to the next, overwhelmed. She guessed at once that these were “compensations” from the Emperor, now lucid again.
Eunuch Kang smiled obsequiously. “Princess, are you well these days?”
Chun Feng tossed a white jade cup lightly in her hand and returned the smile. “What do you think, Eunuch?”
Eunuch Kang sighed. “Ah, good princess, at least give this old servant a clear word, otherwise…” As he spoke, he discreetly pointed his whisk toward the doorway, mouthing silently: His Majesty is outside.
Indeed, just beyond the Furong Pavilion’s doors, the hem of a dark robe embroidered with dragon patterns lingered.
Chun Feng was not truly angry. She stepped forward of her own accord and called softly: “Father?”
The Emperor started in surprise. He was rarely seen without his Daoist robes; though his face was haggard, his eyes were clear. Today he had evidently abstained from the elixirs, which reassured Chun Feng somewhat.
“My child, come closer,” he said. “These past days—no nightmares, I hope?”
Chun Feng shook her head. She had never taken such things to heart; how could bad dreams plague her?
The Emperor exhaled deeply. Seeing her in good spirits, he murmured, “That is well.”
Chun Feng added gently, “Father, I will still go to see Mother Empress.”
The Emperor’s expression shifted ever so slightly. Before coming to the Furong Pavilion, he had first visited the Empress Dowager. She had warned him that Chun Feng’s harmony with the Empress was a blessing; otherwise, given how often the Emperor secluded himself, if discord arose between them, there would be no one left in the palace to dote on the girl. He had brought his child back not to let her suffer. At last, he forced a smile and gave a reluctant assent: “Very well.”
Having “made peace” with his daughter, the Emperor returned to the Taiji Palace with a lighter heart. He felt reassured—Chun Feng was truly his and Lin Miao’er’s child, so gentle and obedient.
Seeing His Majesty in good spirits, Eunuch Kang dared to step forward. “Your Majesty, of the seven Daoists remaining, two claim to have received heavenly omens and wish to leave the palace to wander…”
Only a few days earlier, the Eastern Palace had ordered not only the destruction of the new elixirs but also the execution of several Daoists who had been refining them.
That decree had frightened many of the Daoists out of their wits.
The Emperor’s face darkened. “Keep them here! I will see what else the Crown Prince dares to do.”
…
Though the court appeared calm on the surface, Chun Feng knew nothing of the undercurrents swirling beneath. Compared to the gifts her father sent, she cherished the Persian carpet most of all. She played with it for half a day, then mused: Could it be that the Crown Prince had finally grown a conscience, discovering how lovable and endearing his younger sister was? But the Crown Prince had been deceived—she was a counterfeit!
Chun Feng burst into laughter.
Seeing her idle, Hui’er brought in a tray of fresh fruit, while Fen’er drew the felt curtain closed. With a playful smile, she suggested, “Princess, shall we play leaf cards?”
Chun Feng asked, “Should we call Xiang Rui?”
Hui’er quickly shook her head. “No, no! If Sister Xiang Rui found out, she’d scold me for sure. Besides, didn’t you just see her this morning? She needs her rest.”
Chun Feng gave a soft “Oh,” then agreed: “All right.”
The girls shut the doors and windows tight. Soon the room was alive with excitement. Chun Feng played with generous flair—whether winning or losing, it was all great fun. But they had barely finished two rounds when the little eunuch guarding outside announced: “Princess Chun Shu has arrived.”
Hui’er hurried to hide the cards, while Chun Feng slipped on her shoes and stepped down from the couch. “Invite her in.” She moved from the inner chamber to the main hall, where Chun Shu’s maid was brushing snow from her shoulders.
Chun Shu bowed. “Elder Sister.”
Chun Feng steadied her by the arm. “No need for such formality. Sit.”
Chun Shu lifted her gaze, studying Chun Feng closely. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright as stars, her smile carefree, the kind that seemed to wash away worries and warm the heart.
Chun Shu found herself smiling too.
The scandal in the Taiji Palace had been tightly concealed, yet the Crown Prince’s execution of Daoists was no secret. Coupled with Chun Feng’s supposed illness, many in the palace had begun to suspect something.
At first, everyone thought this common‑born princess belonged firmly to the Emperor’s side. But before long, she was seen in close contact with the Eastern Palace, and grew intimate with the Empress as well—leaving people utterly puzzled.
People in the palace dared not associate with her too freely, fearing they might invite trouble upon themselves.
Conveniently, the upcoming Winter Solstice rites provided a tacit excuse—everyone chose to wait and watch. Yet whatever currents stirred in the palace, the Furong Pavilion seemed to live its own quiet life, as though set apart from court intrigues.
That morning, after consulting with Consort Yi, Princess Chun Shu decided to visit the “invalid,” only to find the patient looked healthier than she did.
Chun Shu was not the sort to force talk of palace affairs. Instead, she spoke with Chun Feng about reading and writing. When she learned that Chun Feng had already begun studying the *Zhuangzi*, she was surprised. Glancing at her sister’s handwriting, she said, “Since you’ve come this far, Elder Sister, you could have joined us in our studies long ago.”
Chun Feng was taken aback. “Truly?”
Chun Shu nodded. “Of course. The lessons at the Chongwen Hall aren’t so difficult.”
Chun Feng’s work still had room for improvement, but then, the assignments of the imperial children were hardly flawless either.
Now that the Crown Prince holds power firmly in his grasp, the outcome is already settled. Others, born into privilege, inevitably grow complacent; those with talent or ambition dare not step forward at such a time.
Years ago, when Prince Qin was barely a teen, he showed promise. The Emperor favored him and even considered replacing the Crown Prince with him, making him a rival. The result, of course, was that Prince Qin was swiftly dispatched to his fief in Qianzhou, his future cut short for nothing.
So if Chun Feng were to enter the Chongwen Hall now, she would find herself far from the bottom—there were plenty worse off than her. Resting her chin in her hand, she thought of that great blanket and felt a flicker of courage. Her eyes shifted lightly as she said, “Then I want to study with you all.”
Chun Shu: “Ah? That…”
Once she had spoken, she acted. Throwing on her cloak, Chun Feng urged Chun Shu, “Let’s go find Chang Ying.”
Chun Shu never expected Chun Feng to act on every impulse. While she hesitated, the two of them had already reached the Eastern Palace.
Facing the towering palace walls, Chun Shu still felt fear, but Chun Feng pulled her along with practiced ease until they stood outside the Eastern Palace study. No attendants barred their way.
The Crown Prince was busy with affairs of state.
Not wishing to disturb him, Chun Feng signaled to Chang Ying under the corridor.
Chang Ying hurried over in small steps: “Princess, why have you come?”
Chun Feng said, “My lessons are going well now. Starting tomorrow, I want to study at the Chongwen Hall.”
Chang Ying glanced at Chun Shu and replied, “Isn’t the Eastern Palace good enough?”
Chun Feng: “But I’m studying alone—it’s so dull. I hear others have companions to read with, but I don’t.”
Chang Ying winced. If this ancestor were given a study companion, Master Zou would lose years off his life.
Unable to decide on his own, he said, “Then please wait, Princess. I’ll ask His Highness.”
Chun Feng: “Go quickly.”
Chang Ying slipped into the study. Inside, silence hung heavy, the very air congealed. Li Xuan bent over his documents, brows pressed tight.
Below, the officials of the Directorate of Ceremonies knelt trembling: “Reporting to Your Highness, I truly did not know the Wang family had sent another Daoist into the palace…”
Chang Ying halted, hesitated a moment, then stepped forward when Li Xuan’s gaze fell on him, whispering the matter outside.
Li Xuan tilted his head slightly.
The official’s back was drenched with sweat; he bent so low his forehead nearly touched the cold floor.
From above came Li Xuan’s lowered voice, a brief command to Chang Ying, who hurried out.
Moments later, Li Xuan said, “Minister He.”
The official rose slowly, his joints cracking after holding the posture too long.
Li Xuan: “You will arrange them.”
It was a chance to redeem himself. Feeling as though he had escaped death, the official replied gratefully, “Yes, Your Highness. I obey.”
…
Elsewhere, Chun Feng soon saw Chang Ying return. Smiling, he said, “Princess, I have already spoken with the Crown Prince.”
Chun Feng’s eyes lit up: “What did my royal brother say?”
Chang Ying: “The Crown Prince said: since the Princess feels lonely, then let Princess Chun Shu accompany her to study in the Eastern Palace.”
Chun Feng, Chun Shu: “…”
Chun Feng lowered her head: “I’m sorry, little sister.”
Noticing Chang Ying’s gaze, Chun Shu quickly said, “Elder Sister need not apologize. In truth, I am willing.”
Chun Feng: “Really?”
Chun Shu answered earnestly: “I would not deceive you.”
In the palace, blood ties were the cheapest currency. The Eastern Palace inspired awe among siblings, but little closeness. Yet closeness was not a bad thing. Only Chun Feng drooped, muttering, “It’s false—he doesn’t truly care for his sister…”
On that point, Chun Shu agreed. But without thinking too deeply, she could sense that the Crown Prince’s treatment of Chun Feng was utterly different from how he treated the rest of his brothers and sisters.
Consort Yi was pleased that Chun Shu would study in the Eastern Palace. So, the day before, Chun Shu reviewed her lessons and retired early. The next day, she met Zou Huan and offered him the tea of apprenticeship.
As a veteran minister who had served three reigns—even though he had once retired—many of the court officials were his former students. Moreover, he had taught the Crown Prince himself, who was obliged to address him respectfully as “Master.” Now his hair was completely white, yet his spirit remained vigorous. His sharp gaze alone was enough to make Chun Shu’s heart flutter with unease.
The hour was nearly upon them, but Chun Feng had not yet arrived.
Anxious, Chun Shu kept glancing toward the door. Fortunately, just before the lesson began, Chun Feng finally appeared, unhurried. She exhaled a puff of cold air and said lightly, “Old Zou, I’m late.”
Chun Shu: “?” Old Zou?
Hui’er set out brush, ink, paper, and inkstone for Chun Feng. Chun Feng explained to Zou Huan, “The imperial physician was taking Xiang Rui’s pulse, so I waited a while.”
Zou Huan gave her a sidelong glance: “Sit down already.”
Hui’er handed over Chun Feng’s recent assignments.
Zou Huan examined her work and said, “A thousand-gold brush wasted on worthless characters. Your writing is truly unworthy of your pen.”
Chun Feng lifted her chin: “I’m willing to use it to write, instead of letting it gather dust. It ought to thank me.”
Zou Huan: “And what if it refuses to thank you?”
Chun Feng: “You are not a brush—how could you know the joy of a brush? I think your brush doesn’t enjoy being used by you either.”
Zou Huan: “Impudent child!”
Chun Feng shrugged at Chun Shu: “See? When he can’t win an argument, he resorts to insults.”
Chun Shu: “…”
That day truly opened her eyes. By the end of the lesson, her ears were still ringing with the sound of the teacher and Chun Feng bickering.
But Chun Feng had other matters. She told Chun Shu to leave first, while she lingered and slowly gathered her things.
Zou Huan: “What are you up to?”
Chun Feng held up Lin Qingxiao’s letter: “A student has a question.”
She had no patience to puzzle over Lin Qingxiao’s words—nonsense, all of it. She could have asked Xiang Rui, but Xiang Rui needed rest. Better to ask Zou Huan openly than to sneak around and be found out.
Zou Huan mocked her: “So this time you’re not hiding it? You actually trust me now?”
Chun Feng, serious: “I do respect my elders—occasionally.”
Zou Huan: “…”
He and Chun Feng truly could not exchange half a sentence without discord. He took the letter, scanning it, and muttered: “There’s nothing worth discussing with a little girl like you… hmm…”
His expression grew grave. “Princess, who wrote you this letter?”
Chun Feng: “What does it say?”
Zou Huan folded the paper. “This person learned that I am teaching you, and hopes you will connect him with me!”
Chun Feng brightened: “Then he’s found the right person!”
Zou Huan, both angry and helpless: “He’s trying to cling to you! Be cautious—his intentions are suspect!”
Chun Feng realized he had misunderstood. A thought struck her, and she sighed dramatically: “He and I grew up together. As the great poet said, ‘green plums and bamboo horse’—we are childhood sweethearts.
“But now our stations are worlds apart. Still, my heart remains with him. I lo, cough, I like him.”
Zou Huan was thunderstruck.
Chun Feng blinked innocently: “Surely, Master, you won’t refuse to help me?”
That evening, Zou Huan returned home after dark. His eldest son was waiting at the gate. Seeing his father, he hurried forward: “Father, you’re finally back. The whole family has been waiting for you to start dinner.”
Zou Huan’s brows were tightly furrowed, his old face drawn long. He ignored his son and ate very little.
The Zou family exchanged uneasy glances. Ever since the old master began teaching at the palace, he usually came home with a hearty appetite, finding every dish delicious. This was the first time he had no appetite.
Worried, the family tried probing for the reason, but he only scolded them before letting the matter drop.
Zou Huan felt deeply unsettled. His own children’s marriages had always been left to his daughters-in-law and granddaughters-in-law to arrange. How had it come to this—at his age, he was fretting over the little princess instead?
Recalling the princess’s look of unwavering devotion when she spoke of her “childhood sweetheart,” his heart grew heavy.
At last he drifted into sleep, only to dream of Chun Feng eating coarse husks and wild greens, grinning foolishly: “Master, this food is so delicious—he treats me so well.”
Zou Huan awoke in shock, sitting bolt upright. No—this ill-fated bond must be severed. He would cut it off for the foolish princess.