At the start of the first lunar month, a heavy snowfall blanketed the imperial capital.

Even by dawn, the snow hadn’t let up. At a quarter past the hour of the Dragon, a luxurious carriage came to a halt at the palace gates. Amid the swirling snow and fog, its lacquered wheels pressed into the thick white snow with a faint creaking sound.

The carriage gradually came to a complete stop. Several palace maids stepped forward to lift the curtain, while the young attendants on either side kept their heads bowed low, not daring to make a sound.

It was said that inside the carriage sat a delicate young noble, the ailing youngest son of the current Minister of Works, Shen Lan—his name: Shen Xuefeng.

Starting today, this young master Shen was to officially enter the palace to serve as a study companion to the disfavored Third Prince.

The moment this news spread some days ago, the entire palace and capital erupted like boiling water. Within a few days, the entire city was buzzing with it.

Everyone was fixated on one question: Had Young Master Shen’s sickly body somehow affected his mind? Why would he volunteer to become the study companion of the Third Prince?

The Third Prince, Ji Wu, was a royal hardly anyone noticed. Not even his mother’s name or origins were known. Rumor had it she was of low birth and died early, and that the emperor had named the child while frowning in irritation, carelessly assigning him a name. He grew up dazed and silent, possessing nothing, and from the moment he was born, he had been cast aside from any competition for the throne.

But who was Shen Xuefeng?

It was said that he had been exceptionally intelligent since childhood—adorable, with skin like jade and snow. His mother was the Empress Dowager’s beloved niece, and his father had once ranked first in the imperial examinations. Even his eldest sister was a heroine among women—skilled in martial arts and awarded the fourth-rank officer title of Commandant at a young age for protecting her master. He came from a family with boundless prospects.

So for two such vastly different people to be paired together—it was bizarre no matter how one looked at it. Anyone who heard about it found it absurd.

What was even stranger was that no matter what others said, Young Master Shen was resolute.

He insisted on becoming the Third Prince’s study companion.

At that moment, the carriage curtain lifted, and the attendants knelt obediently on the ground, heads lowered, awaiting the young master’s appearance.

The curtain lifted again slightly, and a youth in a pale moon-white robe poked his head out.

His lips were rosy, teeth white, his long hair like a cascade of black silk. His features were exquisitely lovely. Beneath his long lashes, almond-shaped eyes curiously scanned the surroundings. Then, unable to contain his excitement, he wrapped himself in a purple sandalwood cloak and stepped down from the carriage.

The daughters of the Shen family were known for being lively, spirited, and skilled in martial arts. Their son, on the other hand, was frail and sickly, his features delicate and almost feminine—unable to handle even the slightest strain.

The youth carefully dismounted, accepted the umbrella handed to him by a servant, blinked, and smiled. “Thank you.”

His voice was clear and bright, typical of a young boy. His complexion was rosy, his frame not overly thin. The servants who were seeing him for the first time couldn’t help but think: He really doesn’t look like a sickly child at all.

The very next second, Shen Xuefeng was overtaken by a coughing fit as the cold air hit him. The attendants from the Shen residence were unbothered—this was nothing new. One of them immediately brought over some cough syrup and watched as he drank it down before improving.

No sooner had he stepped off the carriage than he was transferred into a soft sedan. Although the Empress Dowager was displeased that her grandnephew had defied her wish to become the Crown Prince’s companion, she still worried about his weak health and personally saw him off to the entrance of the Chongwen Hall.

Once out of the sedan, Shen Xuefeng opened his umbrella again, shouldered his bookbag, and walked through the bamboo grove—quietly observing the hall’s surroundings as he went.

His grip on the umbrella handle tightened, and his heart pounded in his chest.

What if Ji Wu doesn’t like me when we meet?

But in the end, Ji Wu had no power to refuse. Compared to a royal outcast, a favored minister’s son clearly held more weight.

On the way, he ran into a few classmates. One of the boys recognized him at the entrance and said hesitantly, “Young Master Shen, you shouldn’t go in just yet.”

Shen Xuefeng abruptly stopped and shook the snow off his umbrella, looking at him in confusion. “Class is about to start. Why not?”

The boy glanced around, then whispered in his ear, “The Third Prince is being punished inside. No idea how he angered the Crown Prince, but see those boys by the eaves? All of them got kicked out.”

Upon hearing this, Shen Xuefeng looked around and realized none of the other students had entered. Many were quietly shaking their heads at him, silently warning him that the situation inside was severe.

A few gossip-hungry noble sons eagerly filled him in, and Shen Xuefeng quickly got the gist of what was going on: On his first day of school, he had walked into the middle of royal infighting.

“Maybe I should still go in,” Shen Xuefeng said hesitantly. “I am the Third Prince’s study companion. They won’t do anything to me.”

“Don’t,” one of them warned. “The punishment’s been going on for a while—it’s probably almost over. If you go in now, you won’t be able to change anything and might just leave a bad impression on the princes.”

After all, this was a private matter among royals. Even though Shen Xuefeng was the son of a second-rank minister and the Empress Dowager’s favorite grandnephew, he couldn’t just throw his family’s weight around and charge in.

Just as the group outside the door was caught in indecision, a proud, commanding voice rang out from inside the quiet hall:

“Hit him again!”

All the young noble sons outside visibly flinched.

This was followed by bursts of laughter from boys and girls inside. Then came a muffled voice through the door: “Still not confessing? I’m afraid he won’t talk unless he’s beaten to death—”

Then silence fell once more.

The alternating noises made Shen Xuefeng’s heart tremble. For a moment, he even wondered if he had backed the wrong horse after transmigrating.

Was… was someone seriously going to die in there?

This was truly a hellish start for Ji Wu—unloved by his father, with no mother around, unable to even attend school properly. Could someone like this really become a wise and enlightened ruler of the Grand Ji Dynasty?

Then again, thinking about it, aren’t all those “Destined Hero” male leads in stories just like this? Maybe someday he’ll encounter some reclusive master or heaven-defying opportunity.

But now wasn’t the time to think about that. The most pressing concern was making sure those princes and princesses didn’t torment the future emperor to death. If something really did happen to Ji Wu, how could he possibly complete his mission?

The sound of arguments kept coming from inside the building, and it was only getting louder.

Shen Xuefeng anxiously paced back and forth. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a wooden bell in a small pavilion in the bamboo garden—and suddenly had a flash of inspiration.

As the saying goes, “morning bell, evening drum”—the bell is rung at the start, and the drum is struck at the end. In the academy, these were often used to signal class times.

He hurriedly opened his umbrella and beckoned to the servant behind him. “Bai Hua, come help me. Let’s go ring the bell.”

The servant named Bai Hua said, “…Young Master, we can’t ring that bell. Only the teacher’s apprentice is allowed to do it.”

“That’s exactly why we should,” Shen Xuefeng said, grabbing the servant’s wrist and lowering his voice. “If we ring the bell, the people inside will definitely think the teacher is coming to lecture. Then they’ll stop bullying the Third Prince. And we won’t have to freeze out here either.”

With that, he dragged the servant along, one hand holding the umbrella, and stepped into the snowy day.

Whether it was because the other young companions were also freezing, no one stopped them. Everyone exchanged a glance and seemed to understand Shen Xuefeng’s plan.

Though he called it “ringing the bell,” it was actually Bai Hua doing all the work under Shen Xuefeng’s direction. Shen himself was too frail to lift or carry anything. If he wasn’t coughing, that was already considered good.

And since a young master’s word is law, Bai Hua rolled up his sleeves and went straight at it.

Soon, the large bell gave out a deep, heavy hum, one booming note after another.

Dong… dong… dong…

The sound echoed through the entire academy—slow, heavy, but incredibly penetrating, its reverberations lingering.

Hearing the bell, palace maids serving inside the academy came rushing out in a panic. “Young Master Shen, please stop! This is against the rules!”

But Shen Xuefeng was already committed. Ignoring their protests, he called out, “Faster! Bai Hua, keep hitting it!”

After just three strikes, there was movement at the main hall’s door. By the fifth strike, the door opened, and a wave of warmth and luxurious scents from incense and heating wafted out. Several inner servants came trotting out in shrill voices: “Their Highnesses have instructed us to invite everyone inside.”

Shen Xuefeng saw the door open from a distance and was overjoyed. “It worked! That really worked! Let’s go in quickly!”

The palace maids didn’t dare harm a noble child, but were equally uneasy about Shen Xuefeng’s unauthorized bell-ringing disrupting the academy’s order. For a moment, they looked at each other in helpless confusion.

But Shen Xuefeng, having already rung the bell, had no fear of being punished now. He was the last to enter the classroom. As soon as he stepped in, years of drinking medicine had sharpened his senses—he immediately detected a faint, almost imperceptible scent of blood hidden beneath the heavy fragrance of incense.

…Someone was injured.

Looking around, the finely decorated classroom was carpeted wall to wall. Desks were neatly arranged, and the princes and princesses sat around idly playing, the whole scene seemingly mundane—yet it all masked something sinister.

As the new companion reader in the palace, Shen Xuefeng was naturally the focus of attention. Under their gaze, he scanned the room—until his eyes stopped on an unremarkable, shadowy corner.

Someone was seated at a desk in that corner. And that person was looking directly at him.

The boy’s gaze carried no emotion—cold, eerie, and bone-chilling. It sent a shiver down Shen Xuefeng’s spine.

It was the Third Prince, Ji Wu.

He was dressed thinly, though not quite in rags, and sat upright at his desk, with a few books placed neatly before him. After briefly locking eyes with Shen Xuefeng, he looked away—as if scared—and lowered his head again, retreating into the shadows.

But Shen Xuefeng could still feel that venomous, snake-like gaze lingering.

…So terrifying!

He forced himself to approach and sat down at the desk next to Ji Wu. Immediately, a heavy metallic stench of blood overwhelmed his senses. It took all his strength not to gag.

“Y-Your Highness, hello… I’m Shen Xuefeng…”

Shen Xuefeng’s scalp prickled. His neck felt wound tight like a spring. He didn’t dare turn to look at the boy beside him.

Whatever hope he had to strike up a conversation vanished completely.

Clutching the edge of his robe, Shen Xuefeng was so nervous and afraid that his palms were soaked with sweat. His whole body was stiff.

Why had no one told him the future emperor was so terrifying as a child?

Perhaps sensing the fear and timidity from the person next to him, it was a long while before Ji Wu slowly, silently turned his gaze back.

He always observed people like this—quietly, never making a sound. His eyes were cold and ruthless, like a poisonous snake slithering silently across Shen Xuefeng’s skin.

Blood seeped out from beneath the cushion where Ji Wu knelt, soaking into the carpet and dyeing the white fur red.

This carpet was usually replaced every two or three days, because sometimes his blood would stain it—just like today. The palace staff would deem it dirty and burn it, laying down a fresh one the next morning.

Half of Ji Wu’s face remained shrouded in shadow. As if he couldn’t feel any pain, he made no sound, no movement. He knew the teacher would never call on him. The books on his desk remained unopened through the entire class.

He had always been an extra—unwanted, unnecessary. Ever since birth, when his lowborn mother had been forced to hang herself, he had grown up surviving in the darkest corners of the imperial palace. In everyone’s eyes, he was nothing more than a toy for any prince or princess to vent their anger on, and that was the only value he held.

So he was watching Shen Xuefeng—observing his uncomfortable expression after catching the scent of blood—silently waiting for the moment Shen Xuefeng would reveal disgust.

Ji Wu was never curious. Naturally, he wasn’t curious about why Shen Xuefeng had chosen to become his study companion.

He was only waiting for Shen Xuefeng to lash out. Because to anyone, his only purpose was to be someone they could take their frustrations out on—Shen Xuefeng would be no exception.

Even if he didn’t know the details, he could guess that Shen Xuefeng must be the beloved son of some powerful minister. The moment this boy entered the hall, he had drawn the attention of many princes and princesses. He was strikingly pretty—hidden in the shadows, his features weren’t fully visible, but Ji Wu could make out the fair, smooth line of his jaw and the full, well-shaped red lips. Even the patterns on his clothing were embroidered with silver thread. As he walked, his body carried a clean, cool scent of patchouli.

Throughout the entire class, Shen Xuefeng hadn’t said a single word to him. Ji Wu knew that he had already noticed the vivid red bloodstain on the carpet. He’d also heard him coughing several times, but Shen Xuefeng was too timid to make much noise.

His pale wrist trembled slightly as he wrote, and he bit his lips again and again until they were nearly bleeding.

So timid, yet he insisted on being Ji Wu’s study companion.

Ji Wu narrowed his eyes slightly.

By the time class ended, the two of them still sat motionless at their desks. There was no brazier nearby for warmth. Ji Wu neither cried from the cold nor the pain.

Shen Xuefeng shivered, thinking that this Third Prince had an incredible tolerance—injured, yet still able to quietly sit through lessons. He was starting to suspect that Ji Wu couldn’t feel pain at all.

There weren’t many people left in the classroom. Shen Xuefeng set down his now-dry writing brush, then turned and pulled a small porcelain bottle from a lightly scented book satchel. Nervously, he placed it in front of Ji Wu.

“Your… Your Highness, this is medicine to stop the bleeding. I used to get hurt a lot, so my sister always made sure I carried some with me…”

Ji Wu looked at him expressionlessly.

That stare nearly scared Shen Xuefeng to death. He finally got a good look at Ji Wu’s face—pale and defiant features, sharp and defined eyes and brows, bloodless lips, and eyes filled with shadow and gloom. Shen Xuefeng instinctively took a few deep breaths, only to be overcome by the pungent scent of blood and break into a coughing fit, his face turning completely red.

“Your Highness, a-are you okay?” he mustered the courage to ask.

Wherever that courage came from, Shen Xuefeng quickly added, “How about… how about you take a proper rest, and I’ll do today’s homework for you?”

Then he immediately regretted it—his eyes drooped in defeat, glancing nervously at Ji Wu for a reaction.

“Would that be alright…?”