After returning with Yuan Zhou, Qiu Xinran worried for several days. But Xia Xiuyan never came looking for trouble, and gradually the two of them put the matter behind them. After all, a dignified heir apparent wouldn’t go out of his way over a few harmless words from two insignificant junior officials.
It turned out that Qiu Xinran had been far too naive at the time.
Later, when she thought back on Xia Xiuyan, if she had to describe him in two phrases, the first would be “unpredictable in temper,” and the second “holds grudges.” Moreover, he wasn’t the type to scheme elaborate revenge—he would simply settle the score casually whenever he happened to run into you again.
As the weather grew hotter, the emperor decided to move to Wanhe Palace to escape the summer heat. Qiu Xinran followed at the rear of the procession, setting out in high spirits—but halfway there she unfortunately suffered heatstroke. By the time they reached the temporary palace, she could only lie in bed, unable to move.
That evening, Yuan Zhou came to deliver her medicine. Seeing his dejected expression, she asked with concern, “What’s wrong?”
At first, he shook his head. After a moment, he said, “At the family banquet today, His Majesty reprimanded the Second Prince. He misspoke at the academy and showed disrespect toward the emperor. The Second Prince talked back a little, even advising His Majesty not to place blind faith in divination, lest he be misled by treacherous people. The emperor was furious and confined him to his quarters for a few days to reflect.”
Qiu Xinran blinked. “And what does that have to do with you?”
Yuan Zhou grimaced. “After punishing the Second Prince, His Majesty was still angry. Then the heir, Xia, said he had never carefully watched anyone perform calculations before and was curious.”
“I see,” Qiu Xinran said thoughtfully. “So you went?”
“You weren’t there, so of course I had to go,” Yuan Zhou sighed. “But I don’t know how to read people’s fortunes at all.”
The art of divination covered a vast range of methods. Even disciples from the same sect specialized differently—some excelled in calculations, some in geomancy, some in physiognomy. Someone like Qiu Xinran, who knew a bit of everything, was extremely rare. Moreover, her talent in divination was exceptional—something innate, not taught.
Lying half-reclined on the bed, she showed a hint of sympathy and couldn’t help asking, “What happened next?”
“After I entered and paid my respects, before I even understood what was going on, Xia took out two birth charts. He said a distant relative of his had recently considered a marriage with a well-matched family and wanted me to check their compatibility. Matching birth charts isn’t difficult, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a look.”
Qiu Xinran frowned. “He came alone from the northwest. If a relative were getting married, a letter would’ve sufficed—why send birth charts? He was clearly making it up to toy with you.”
Yuan Zhou sighed. “You’re right, but how could I have thought of that at the time? I looked at them and found that while the match might be slightly unfavorable to the woman, it was still a good union overall. So I said their charts were compatible and they could marry.”
Qiu Xinran shook her pale face. “When we read matches, we tend to avoid breaking marriages and prefer to speak optimistically. True perfect matches are rare, after all. But today he clearly intended to trick you—your answer likely gave him leverage.”
“Exactly,” the boy said regretfully. “After I finished speaking, he told me those charts actually belonged to his parents. Since everyone says it was a good match, then the reason for Princess Mingyang’s death must lie with him. If she hadn’t given birth to him, the marriage might have lasted happily.”
Qiu Xinran stared, dumbfounded. “How did he even arrive at that conclusion…?”
Yuan Zhou looked miserable. “The Empress Dowager immediately grabbed him and started crying. The whole room descended into chaos, and it took a long time to calm her down. His Majesty was also very displeased—he scolded me a few times before dismissing me.” He looked pitifully at her. “Senior Sister, do you think Xia held a grudge against me because of what happened that day?”
“This man is truly scheming,” Qiu Xinran sighed sincerely. “Is he really General Xia’s biological son?”
“……”
Xia Xiuyan, of course, had no idea how this newly arrived young Daoist was gossiping about him behind his back. If he had known, he would certainly have added another item to his list.
Li Hanfeng, however, noticed that Xia Xiuyan seemed to be in a good mood since that day—even his complexion had improved. “Your illness really does benefit from getting out of the palace more. The mountain climate is perfect for recovery.”
Xia Xiuyan gave no clear response, though he did find this place far more comfortable than staying in the palace. The two walked together toward the academy—though they were outside the palace, their studies could not be neglected.
The Second Prince had been confined to his room for the past few days, but today his restriction was finally lifted. When he entered and saw everyone present, he snorted coldly and returned to his seat. He was convinced someone in the room had reported his earlier remarks to the emperor, though he had no proof.
Normally, others would have gone to greet him, but the emperor was coming that afternoon to inspect their studies, so the atmosphere was unusually solemn. No one had time for idle concern.
The most relaxed people in the room were probably the princely heirs like Xia Xiuyan and Zhou Xianyi—and among them, Xia Xiuyan seemed the most idle of all.
Halfway through the afternoon lesson, Emperor Xuande arrived. Teachers and students alike came out to receive him, making the usually quiet hall feel crowded.
The emperor sat at the head and called on several princes. Perhaps because they had been traveling, their answers were unsatisfactory. Clearly displeased, the emperor left them looking dejected.
He then questioned several heirs. Xia Xiuyan stood after Zhou Xianyi. Hearing Zhou stutter badly from nervousness, Xia sighed inwardly. Seeing Zhou drenched in sweat, the emperor didn’t have the heart to scold him harshly and quickly let him sit, calling Xia forward.
Following the earlier examples, Xia deliberately answered a few questions incorrectly, giving a performance that was neither outstanding nor poor before sitting down again.
The poor performance left the teachers embarrassed, and the atmosphere grew heavy. Just as the emperor was about to speak, the Ninth Princess stood up unhappily.
“Father, why do you only question my brothers and not me? I studied a long time last night too!”
Princess Qinghe, Li Hanyuan, was only about ten years old, charming and lively. She often attended lessons with her brothers. The emperor doted on her deeply, and seeing her protest, he laughed.
He asked her a few simple questions, which she answered perfectly. Pleased, he lifted her onto his lap. “Your brothers are no match for our little Ninth in cleverness.”
She replied honestly, “It’s not just me—many things were taught by my tutors, Mother, and Xinran.”
The emperor looked puzzled. “You mean the new Astrologer I appointed?”
She nodded. “Xinran has been copying scriptures for Mother recently. If there’s a test the next day, she secretly helps me.”
“So my astrologer has such skills,” the emperor said, turning to Bai Jingming. “I haven’t seen her in a few days. Did she come along this time?”
Bai Jingming stepped forward. “Recently Your Majesty permitted her to assist the Empress in copying scriptures, so she came along.”
The emperor nodded. “Bring her here. I’d like to see how she teaches my daughter.”
Hearing this, Xia Xiuyan began to suspect something. He recalled the disheveled young Daoist he had seen by the rockery that day and nudged Li Hanfeng. “The new Daoist you mentioned—is it a man or a woman?”
Before Li could answer, a Daoist nun entered.
Dressed in pale blue robes, her hair tied with a wooden pin, she looked only thirteen or fourteen, yet tall for her age. Her peach-blossom eyes were lively and expressive, with a hint of youthful charm.
“There she is,” Li Hanfeng gestured.
Xia said nothing, but his gaze darkened.
The young Daoist stepped forward and bowed properly. The emperor asked, “I hear you’ve been copying scriptures for the Empress and tutoring the Ninth Princess?”
Qiu Xinran paused in confusion, then quickly replied, “Your Majesty overpraises me. I wouldn’t dare claim to teach the princess. The texts are difficult, so I only helped explain a few words.”
The emperor nodded approvingly. His earlier displeasure faded thanks to his clever little daughter. Before leaving, he simply reminded everyone to work hard and did not pursue the matter further.
After the emperor left, only the students remained.
Before Li Hanfeng could relax, a disdainful voice rang out—it was the Second Prince.
“So you’re the little Daoist who bewitched Father with your nonsense?”
Everyone turned to look.
The girl smiled and cupped her hands politely. “I am Qiu Xinran of the Nine Schools of Divination. Greetings, Second Prince.”
He frowned. “You know me?”
“I don’t.”
“Then how do you know who I am?”
“I heard that your recent confinement was somehow related to me, so I made a guess.”
He had expected flattery, but her honest answer surprised him. Though arrogant, he disliked roundabout speech, and her frankness didn’t offend him. Still, he said haughtily, “You have a bit of wit. What if you guessed wrong?”
Qiu Xinran smiled. “I won’t.”
That piqued his interest. “So confident?”
“I make my living on such small cleverness,” she replied matter-of-factly.
He sneered. “If you’re so capable, then identify everyone in this room. If you fail, I’ll ruin your livelihood—and report you to Father for deceiving the emperor.”
The others grew interested. Everyone had heard of her reading the emperor’s fortune, and though opinions varied, curiosity was universal.
Qiu Xinran glanced around, looking troubled. “That’s a bit unreasonable.”
“What, you’re not capable?”
“I don’t even know who’s in this room—how could I guess out of thin air?”
The Third Prince smiled. “Simple. I’ll have someone fetch a roster.”
“No need,” she said slowly. “Why not have the Ninth Princess tell me who’s here first, and then I’ll make my guesses?”
There were nearly twenty attendants in addition to the nobles. The Second Prince scoffed, but agreed readily.
“Fine. If you guess them all correctly, I’ll admit you have some skill—and forget our previous grudge.”
Qiu Xinran blinked and smiled.
“Deal.”