Cui Weijin looked at Princess Ming Zhao’s expectant, smiling face and remained silent for a moment. “I choose Princess,” he said.
Princess Ming Zhao did not release her hands. Keeping her position of holding his face, she tilted her head, pressing her ear lightly against the left side of his chest.
He could feel her warm breath through several layers of clothing, the heat pressing against his skin.
Her steady breathing mingled with the increasingly rapid beat of his own heart.
The sound pressed against his eardrums, loud even to himself.
Princess Ming Zhao closed her eyes, listening intently to his heartbeat. After a few moments, she moved her head, slowly lifting it from his chest, and leaned toward his ear.
Her voice held a playful laugh, as if she had discovered a great secret. “Grand Tutor, your heartbeat is so fast.”
“Like a little drum. Are you lying, feeling guilty? Or are you scared of me?”
Cui Weijin took a deep breath, lifting his hands to gently hold her slender wrists, moving her head away from his chest, and guiding it back to the desk. His fingers tapped on the open Book of Rites.
“Princess,” his voice returned to its usual calm, “it’s time to read.”
If he did not restrain her, he had no idea what she might do next.
Satisfied by his declaration of “I choose Princess,” she seemed to have taken a deep breath, no longer teasing or pressing questions, finally returning her gaze to the pages.
He began with the original meaning of “loyalty and filial piety,” expanded to the principles of rulers and ministers, spoke of court balance, and local governance.
He cited classical texts, occasionally interspersing a few harmless historical examples from the court, explaining deeply yet accessibly.
Princess Ming Zhao listened attentively. Whenever she encountered something she did not understand, or found the text contradicting her own thoughts, she asked pointed questions.
Her inquiries were still sharp, but she asked earnestly.
Cui Weijin focused solely on teaching, patiently answering, sometimes even returning the question to her perspective.
One taught, one learned, and gradually, the sun outside climbed from the eastern window to directly overhead, casting slanting shadows across the floor.
“Haah.”
Princess Ming Zhao stretched luxuriously, massaging her slightly sore neck, letting out a contented sigh.
She closed each book on the desk, stacking them neatly.
Carrying the pile, she walked to Cui Weijin, bending slightly. “Thank you, Grand Tutor, for your hard work in instructing me. I will review everything diligently and not be lazy.”
Her eyes curved into crescents, looking at him as he sat formally. With both care and a hint of flirtation, she added, “Grand Tutor, you must also take care of yourself. You have enough work with official duties, and now you must find time to teach this foolish student. Don’t overwork yourself.”
“If you become ill…”
She playfully winked her right eye. “I would worry.”
Performing a simple student’s bow, she lifted the books and left the Chengxin Palace Hall lightly.
The study was instantly empty, leaving only incense and the faint, lingering warmth of her presence.
Cui Weijin remained seated at the master’s desk, his gaze lingering on the empty doorway. After a moment, he shook his head lightly, lips curling in a small, almost unnoticeable smile, a quiet indulgence he himself could not fully explain.
“She still can’t stay calm.”
He prepared to tidy the desk, and his eyes casually fell on a small red object near the seat Princess Ming Zhao had occupied.
He walked over, bent down, and picked it up.
It was a silk sachet, red with simple floral patterns embroidered in silver thread. Upon closer inspection, the stitching was crooked, clearly made by an amateur.
Holding it to his nose unconsciously, a subtle sweet fragrance entered his senses, a blend of floral, fruit, and clean soap-like notes—the familiar scent Princess Ming Zhao often carried.
At that moment, a court eunuch who had been waiting outside the study quietly entered to tend the tea. Cui Weijin clasped the sachet in his hand and asked calmly, “Has Princess returned to Lanzhi Palace?”
The eunuch bowed hurriedly. “Lord Cui, Princess just left carrying her books. Judging by her direction, she should be returning to Lanzhi Palace.”
Catching sight of the red sachet peeking from between Cui Weijin’s fingers, the eunuch guessed its origin and cautiously asked, “Sir, did Princess leave this behind? Shall I deliver it to her?”
Cui Weijin brushed past. “No need.”
To reach Lanzhi Palace required passing through a garden.
The winter garden was barren, with only hardy pines and cypresses retaining a hint of green.
Cui Weijin walked at a steady pace until he reached a slightly elevated corner of a covered corridor. From here, the view opened across most of the garden.
His steps involuntarily paused, eyes drawn to the garden center, where an unexpected visitor stood.
Princess Ming Zhao still carried her stack of books, standing at the garden’s center.
Before her stood a figure in a lake-blue embroidered robe, upright, face warm in profile—it was Xie Xing.
They were too far to hear words, only able to see Princess Ming Zhao’s bright, slightly excited smile.
She nodded occasionally, her expression relaxed and cheerful. Xie Xing’s head bowed slightly as he spoke, his own face warm with a gentle smile.
Cui Weijin’s gaze lingered on Princess Ming Zhao’s face.
She looked at Xie Xing with unmistakable warmth, devoid of the cunning tests or pretended docility she reserved for him.
Turning, she handed her books to the accompanying maid and walked side by side with Xie Xing along a path opposite Lanzhi Palace, apparently leaving the palace.
Princess Ming Zhao’s steps were light, her head tilted slightly as she listened intently, occasionally gesturing while asking something.
Cui Weijin remained in the corridor shadows, watching their figures fade. His face darkened, gripping the red sachet tighter in his hand.
Memories of her playful expressions flashed uncontrollably through his mind:
Sitting in Chengxin Hall, tilting her head, eyes wide and bright, asking “Which would you choose?”
Leaning close, pressing her head against his chest, smiling, “Your heartbeat is so fast.”
Holding her books, bowing slightly, eyes like crescents, “I would worry about Grand Tutor.”
Then, the scene shifted: she smiled freely at Xie Xing, walking shoulder to shoulder, laughing and talking.
Cui Weijin scoffed bitterly to himself.
“Princess certainly has quite a few choices.”
His fingers tightened around the sachet. “That little heartless one.”
The north wind blew through the corridor, fluttering his sky-blue robe.
A eunuch standing silently behind him sensed the sudden chill, shivering as the cold, sharp air bit at his face. He shrank into his thin clothing, burying his head lower, wishing he could vanish into the ground, barely daring to breathe.