Chapter 11

After hosting a banquet to thank their neighbors, the weather grew colder day by day. Despite her overwhelming worries, Xu Shi had to admit that if Zhan Jianxing hadn’t acted out of desperation and promptly reclaimed their stolen property, they might have silently frozen to death on some bitter night.

Another snowfall descended from the sky, blanketing the entire city overnight. By dawn, when people opened their doors, they found that besides snowflakes, paper money was also fluttering in the air.

The Prince of Dai was being laid to rest.

The funeral procession stretched for miles. Though it didn’t pass by the Zhan Family Bun Shop, the rumors alone frightened Xu Shi into hastily closing the shop, fearing they might unluckily catch the eye of some noble from Prince Dai Manor on such a mournful day.

But while they could avoid the monks, they couldn’t avoid the temple.

Xu Shi hoped that the day Zhan Jianxing would leave to become a Study Companion would come as late as possible—preferably after the New Year, so the matter might be forgotten altogether.

Yet, just before the year’s end in late December, the notice from the prefecture government arrived.

Xu Shi, reluctant and flustered, began packing books and other necessities for Zhan Jianxing, only to be stopped by the Yamen Runner delivering the message: “The prefect said this is just to meet someone and pay respects. With the New Year approaching, classes won’t start until after the festivities. There’s no need to bring anything now. Just come with me—the prefect is waiting.”

Zhan Jianxing had no choice but to leave in a hurry.

During this time, Luo Zhifu hadn’t been idle either. After careful consideration, he had selected another Study Companion.

When Zhan Jianxing arrived at the prefecture government with the messenger, the new Study Companion had already arrived—a sturdy young man dressed in a faded brown cotton robe, suggesting an ordinary background.

Luo Zhifu still had some official business to finish, so the two youths obediently waited by the door, quietly exchanging names and ages during the lull.

The new Study Companion was named Xu Yi. His features were slightly pronounced, giving him a handsome and lively appearance. He was cheerful and smiled often, though his grin carried a hint of naivety: “You’re only twelve this year? Then I’m two years older—I’ll be fifteen right after the New Year.”

Zhan Jianxing clasped his hands respectfully. “Brother Xu.”

“No need for formalities—just call me by my name,” Xu Yi said cheerfully. “I’ll call you Jianxing. That’s a lovely name. Does it have any special meaning?”

Zhan Jianxing replied, “Not really—it’s just a coincidence—”

“You two, come in quickly. The prefect is calling for you.”

A clerk appeared at the door to summon them. Zhan Jianxing and Xu Yi fell silent and entered respectfully to bow to Luo Zhifu.

Luo Zhifu waved for them to rise, then rubbed his wrist, sore from writing official dispatches. Standing up, he got straight to the point: “Let’s go.”

The clerk hurried out to arrange a sedan chair. Xu Yi asked curiously, “Master Prefect, are you personally taking us to Prince Dai Manor?”

Luo Zhifu nodded. “I’m an old acquaintance of Chu Hanlin, who will be your tutor. I’ll visit him while we’re there.”

“Oh, I see.”

Xu Yi acted as if he suddenly understood. Luo Zhifu then boarded his official sedan chair. Not wanting to disturb the people for such a minor matter, he didn’t bring out his full retinue, taking only a few attendants. Zhan Jianxing and Xu Yi naturally followed behind the sedan chair as the group made their way to Prince Dai Manor.

After about an hour and a half, they reached their destination.

The entire Prince Dai Manor was a resplendent complex of buildings, grand enough to be described as majestic. It had been modeled after the imperial palace of the old capital in Nanjing. Later, when the previous emperor ascended the throne and moved the capital, he reportedly even sent officials to study its design for inspiration.

Before even entering the manor, as they approached the Nine-Dragon Wall outside the gates, the nine divine dragons—each with its own majestic form, massive bodies, and sharp claws—exuded an overwhelming imperial grandeur that instinctively silenced those who beheld them.

Luo Zhifu had already disembarked from his sedan chair by this point, leaving all attendants outside. After obtaining permission, he led only Zhan Jianxing and Xu Yi through a side gate.

Zhan Jianxing walked without glancing around. Having suffered under the oppression of Prince Dai Manor’s power, the grandeur of the estate held no awe for her.

Xu Yi, being more youthful in spirit, let his eyes dart about, occasionally parting his lips in silent astonishment. His movements were restrained and respectful, so Luo Zhifu paid him no mind.

The layout of Prince Dai Manor was grand and symmetrical, with sprawling, magnificent palaces. Though the path was straightforward, the vast grounds meant they followed the guiding eunuch for quite some time before arriving at the Discipline and Virtue Institute in the eastern section of the front courtyard.

Chu Hanlin stood waiting beneath the corridor, clad in a brown-gray Daoist robe with an overcoat draped over his shoulders, hands tucked into his sleeves.

Both Zhan Jianxing and Xu Yi, who had seen little of the world, paused momentarily—this gentleman was far younger than they had imagined.

Luo Zhifu, now thirty-nine, had mentioned being a “tongnian” with Chu Hanlin. The term referred to those who passed the Imperial Examination in the same year, regardless of age—one could be eighteen or sixty-eight and still be tongnian. Though they understood this, their minds had momentarily slipped into misconception.

This Chu Hanlin was a full seven or eight years younger than Luo Zhifu, likely just around thirty. His refined features and clear gaze stood out as the hem of his robe fluttered in the biting wind.

Zhan Jianxing quietly held her breath. She didn’t know what official position Chu Hanlin currently held, but she knew that becoming a Hanlin academician required achieving the highest honors in the Imperial Examination. That someone so young had already scaled the heights of scholarly success and stood among the court’s elite filled her with admiration and an irrepressible yearning.

Luo Zhifu quickened his pace and stepped forward with a smile. “After five or six years apart, Qian De’s grace has only grown more striking.”

Chu Hanlin descended the stone steps to greet him, also smiling. “What grace? I’ve merely been idling away in the Imperial Academy, achieving nothing. How could I compare to Zhengqing, governing a prefecture and laboring for the people?”

“Haha, if Qian De’s dedication to scholarship and readiness to advise His Majesty counts as idleness, then who in the world dares claim accomplishment?”

“You flatter me too much, Zhengqing. The wind is fierce out here—let’s step inside.”

With a gesture of invitation from Chu Hanlin, the group entered the hall and took their seats.

Zhan Jianxing and Xu Yi, having no seats, stood silently as Chu Hanlin and Luo Zhifu continued exchanging pleasantries and reminiscing.

Gradually, Zhan Jianxing pieced together their history: Luo Zhifu and Chu Hanlin had met during the grand examination eight years prior. That meant Chu Hanlin had passed the Imperial Examination in his early twenties, ranking among the top candidates in the second tier and entering the Imperial Academy through selection. Since then, he had devoted himself to scholarship in this prestigious institution, now serving as a Lecturer. Luo Zhifu, having failed to qualify as a Hanlin probationer, had been posted outside the capital, moving from place to place before becoming a fourth-grade prefect.

The Lecturer held a fifth-rank position, which was technically three ranks lower than Luo Zhifu. However, firstly, Chu Hanlin was a capital official. His assignment to Prince Dai Manor was temporary, and his official post remained within the Imperial Academy. Thus, when meeting with local officials, he was unofficially elevated by one rank. Secondly, as Luo Zhifu had mentioned, the Imperial Academy operated under the emperor’s direct gaze. If the emperor had any questions, he could summon a Hanlin academician at any moment for consultation. This proximity to the emperor’s inner circle, with the ability to directly reach the imperial ear, far outweighed the mere difference of two or three ranks.

Therefore, Luo Zhifu did not adopt the demeanor of a superior in his conversation with Chu Hanlin. Instead, he treated him as a fellow graduate, warmly exchanging updates on their lives since parting.

The two graduates, having not seen each other for five or six years, had much to catch up on. After a lengthy conversation, Luo Zhifu finally waved his hand, signaling Zhan Jianxing and Xu Yi to step forward.

The two bowed respectfully, and Chu Hanlin nodded kindly. “Rise, no need for formalities.”

He then turned to Luo Zhifu and said, “I’ve already sent someone to fetch Ninth Young Master. Since they’ll be classmates after the New Year, it’s convenient for them to meet now. I’m just not sure if he’s available.”

In an ordinary household, a teacher’s summons would be promptly obeyed by a student, with no question of availability. But in Prince Dai Manor, it was the teacher who had to be more courteous.

Luo Zhifu understood this well and smiled without comment.

There was probably no place in the world where being a teacher was more challenging than here. Even the emperor in the imperial palace had to show respect to his tutors, and any breach of etiquette could be admonished by his ministers. But what reasoning could one expect from the notorious bullies of Prince Dai Manor?

Their reputation was already in tatters—from top to bottom, none of them cared about saving face.

However, they were in luck today. Before long, Chu Hanlin’s esteemed student, “Ninth Young Master,” arrived—though not alone. He came with an extra.

“Teacher.”

A young boy, still slight in stature and dressed in a white fox fur robe, entered the hall with delicate features and a bright smile. He bowed deeply to Chu Hanlin.

Though Chu Hanlin had been at Prince Dai Manor for some time, the household had been preoccupied with funeral affairs, and the comings and goings of attendants were chaotic. As an outsider, he dared not wander around and had spent his days confined to the Discipline and Virtue Institute, where he was temporarily lodged. Thus, he was unfamiliar with many in the manor, including this boy. Hesitantly, he asked, “You are—?”

“Teacher, my father is Prince Rongkang of Commandery,” the boy introduced himself. “My father instructed me to accompany Ninth Brother in receiving your teachings. If I fall short in any way, I hope you will not hesitate to correct me.”

Having spent his idle days familiarizing himself with the manor’s residents, Chu Hanlin quickly matched the boy to his name.

This must be the youngest son of Prince Rongkang of Commandery, Zhu Xunshuo—Zhu Chengke.

He was a cousin, separated by lineage, to Zhu Chengjun, who had been explicitly named in the emperor’s decree. Judging by their ages, the two were quite close.

Having sat on the cold bench for so long, Chu Hanlin had assumed Zhu Chengjun would be his only student. This wasn’t surprising—the manor’s official roster already included a Professor position. It was rare for someone like Zhu Chengjun, who had been illiterate due to house arrest, to require tutoring. The others wouldn’t all be in the same predicament.

For example, this Zhu Chengke—from just these two sentences he spoke, Chu Hanlin could tell he had received proper education, unlike Zhu Chengjun, who had missed out on schooling. Zhu Xunshuo, as the de facto highest-ranking noble in Prince Dai Manor at present, had previously ignored him entirely. But now, for some reason, he had sent his youngest son here.  

Chu Hanlin only wished to fulfill the imperial decree by teaching and had no desire to get overly involved in the internal disputes of Prince Dai Manor. So he didn’t probe further, merely saying, “Very well, I understand.”  

Zhu Chengke, seeing his indifferent attitude and lack of special treatment, flashed a hint of disappointment and displeasure in his eyes.  

“Sir.”  

This time, it was Zhu Chengjun who finally spoke up.  

He stood beside Zhu Chengke, and without comparison, it might not have been so obvious. But next to Zhu Chengke’s white fur robe, he wore only a plain cotton gown. He spoke little—just this one word—and then fell silent again. His face was wooden, his eyelids drooping as if half-asleep, like a dull, clueless little wooden stake, stiffly planted there.  

Author’s Note:  

Zhu Xiao Jiu: My heart is wild—just wait.