Chapter 16 

Zhu Chengchang went out.  

Tao Shi felt uneasy and asked her senior maid, “Hong Yun, do you think the master still harbors feelings for that girl Chunying? Otherwise, why wouldn’t he agree to have Zhang Ji removed as well?”  

Hong Yun smiled softly and replied, “Madam, when you used the mourning period as an excuse to reprimand Chunying, did the master object? No. Not only did he not object, but he also went along with your words and personally instructed Nanny Ni to drive Chunying out from the front courtyard, making it known throughout the entire household. Your original intention wasn’t to make such a scene—after all, a maid’s misconduct isn’t something to be proud of. She could’ve just been dismissed quietly through the back gate. But now, Chunying’s reputation is completely ruined. If the master had even a shred of affection left for her, he wouldn’t have gone so far.”  

“That’s true,” Tao Shi nodded unconsciously. “I really didn’t mean to go that far. This morning, when I was helping the master dress, he complained that I was clumsy and called Chunying over instead. I was upset and took it out on her with a harsh word. I thought the master would blame me, but instead, he immediately ordered her to be expelled. I saw how terrified Chunying was—she couldn’t even string a coherent sentence together.”  

Hong Yun chuckled. “Madam, you enlightened the master and gave him a brilliant idea—to go against expectations and cultivate a reputation for sincere mourning. Why would he blame you?”  

Tao Shi relaxed further. “Still, did something go wrong when the master went to the front courtyard earlier? I noticed his expression darkened again. Could it be that the matter wasn’t handled properly?”  

“Madam, that has little to do with us. Chunying has been dismissed, and you no longer have to worry about her having a brother in the Outer Study who might collaborate with her, making her harder to deal with than others.”  

Tao Shi smiled again. “True. But if Zhang Ji could also be removed, it would be even cleaner. These eunuchs have no hopes of their own and cling tightly to their relatives. If they hold a grudge and stir up trouble, it could be troublesome.”  

Hong Yun said, “Even if they resent someone, it won’t be you, Madam. After all, it wasn’t you who made Chunying disgrace herself in the front courtyard.”  

Hearing this, Tao Shi found it reasonable and set her mind at ease, turning her attention to sorting the remaining clothes with her maid.  

**  

Meanwhile, in the front courtyard, Zhang Ji arrived with the fur cloak at just the right moment.  

It wasn’t because Zhu Chengjun was cold sitting in the study hall—rather, he had arrived just as Hanlin academician Chu was conducting an assessment.  

Before beginning the lesson, the teacher wanted to gauge the students’ knowledge. The two study companions had already been questioned the other day, but they were merely supplementary. Hanlin academician Chu only asked them a few general questions, while he interrogated the two Royal Grandsons in detail.  

Zhu Chengke answered first. Hanlin academician Chu questioned him based on the progress he had reported. Out of ten questions, Zhu Chengke could only answer about half. Yet, he showed no sign of shame—after all, his life didn’t require any examinations. It was already commendable that he bothered to study at all. Besides, he knew full well that someone else would be at the bottom.  

Next was Zhu Chengjun, the one destined to be at the bottom. Hanlin academician Chu knew he had missed schooling but still held a faint hope—surely he couldn’t be completely ignorant?  

So Hanlin academician Chu took extra care, asking the simplest questions he could think of. Zhu Chengjun’s response was always the same—he shook his head.

After shaking his head three or four times, Chu Hanlin was somewhat taken aback. He felt the situation was becoming awkward—had he known, he wouldn’t have asked. Turning the Royal Grandson into someone who knew nothing but shaking his head had even drawn the Study Companions to secretly glance at Zhu Chengjun, making it seem as though he had deliberately embarrassed the Royal Grandson.

At this moment, Zhang Ji’s entrance was like a timely rescue.

Chu Hanlin noticed Zhang Ji arguing with a young eunuch outside the door and seized the opportunity to pause his questioning. Turning, he asked, “What’s the matter? Come in and speak.”

The young eunuch was no match in strength, and Zhang Ji pushed past him, striding inside. Holding up a fur-lined cloak, he presented it to Zhu Chengjun and said, “The eldest master noticed Ninth Master is dressed too lightly and feared you might catch cold after class. He specifically ordered me to bring this garment for you.”

Zhu Chengjun lifted his eyelids. “Oh, thank my eldest brother.”

His tone and expression were flat. Turning his head, he called, “Qiu Guo, come take this.”

The young eunuch scurried in and took the cloak from Zhang Ji’s hands, pouting as he muttered, “In the end, it still falls to me. The teacher is in the middle of a lesson—must you barge in like this?”

Zhang Ji, having completed his task, followed the eunuch out one after the other. With this brief interlude over, Chu Hanlin officially began the lesson.

With four students at four different levels, Chu Hanlin chose to start with the foundational *Three Character Classic*. Zhu Chengke, however, objected. Standing up, he said, “Teacher, I’ve long since studied this. My Study Companion has as well. Though Ninth Brother hasn’t, and you must accommodate him, it’s unfair to make us all waste time following his pace, isn’t it?”

As he spoke, he turned and naturally glanced at Zhan Jianxing, signaling for her to back him up.

Zhan Jianxing: “…”

She was indeed Zhu Chengke’s Study Companion, but she had no desire to get caught up in the brothers’ rivalry. So she simply sat upright, her gaze fixed on Chu Hanlin ahead, pretending not to notice.

But Zhu Chengke wouldn’t let her off. Seeing her lack of response, he pressed directly, “Zhan Jianxing, don’t you agree?”

There was no avoiding it now.

Zhan Jianxing stood steadily and bowed toward him from her seat. “Seventh Master, this humble one is dull-witted and only knows to follow the teacher’s words. Whatever the teacher says is what matters.”

Zhu Chengke narrowed his slender eyes, shooting Zhan Jianxing a dark, piercing glare.

Chu Hanlin said mildly, “Sit down, all of you.”

Zhu Chengke couldn’t even control his own Study Companion, and without further grounds to argue, his momentum faltered. In Chu Hanlin’s presence, he said nothing more and sat back down with a heavy thud.

Zhan Jianxing, unafraid, followed suit and took her seat.

Chu Hanlin then turned to Zhu Chengjun. “Ninth Young Master, everyone is accommodating your level out of consideration for you. However, I won’t repeat these earlier lessons. I’ll go through them once. If there’s anything you don’t understand, you may ask me privately.”

Zhu Chengjun replied, “Understood.”

This explanation somewhat soothed Zhu Chengke’s wounded pride, but his expression remained stormy.

“Men at their birth are naturally good…”

Chu Hanlin paid him no further mind, his clear voice resonating through the hall. Though the material was elementary, Zhan Jianxing listened attentively and recited along. The morning passed in a flash.

Chu Hanlin kept the schedule tight—literature in the morning, calligraphy in the afternoon, with only an hour’s break at noon.

Prince Dai Manor provided a meal, so Zhan Jianxing and Xu Yi didn’t need to return home and could eat there.

As for the brothers Zhu Chengke and Zhu Chengjun, they were supposed to return to their respective quarters, but Zhu Chengjun remained seated, insisting on eating there. Seeing this, Zhu Chengke—perhaps out of rivalry—also stayed, though his expression was strained, as if condescending to remain.

Their attendants bustled about, rushing back to fetch their meals.

By then, Hanlin academician Chu had already returned to his own room next door for his meal. Zhan Jianxing and Xu Yi sat together, while Zhu Chengke and Zhu Chengjun kept to themselves. At first glance, the scene appeared lively.

But this illusion was soon shattered. Midway through the meal, Zhu Chengke abruptly set down his chopsticks and said to Zhan Jianxing, “Have you never had a full meal before? You eat like you’re trying to lick the plate clean.”

Zhan Jianxing: “…”

She struggled to maintain composure, having never been subjected to such harsh words before—her uncles in the Zhan family were never this cruel. Knowing Zhu Chengke was deliberately retaliating, her face first paled with shame, then flushed red.

Xu Yi, his mouth stuffed full, wanted to speak up but didn’t dare, leaving him gaping foolishly.

This turned out to be a fortunate accident, as the half-chewed food in his mouth seemed on the verge of spilling out. Zhu Chengke caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye and was so revolted he couldn’t bear it, standing up abruptly.

Having humiliated Zhan Jianxing, Zhu Chengke felt somewhat vindicated. Refusing to share the room with these lowly commoners any longer, he snorted disdainfully, leaving behind most of his meal without a second glance.

Once he stepped over the threshold, Xu Yi turned sympathetically to Zhan Jianxing. “Don’t take it to heart. Look at me—my mother always says I eat like a starving ghost. He was just looking for trouble. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Zhan Jianxing gradually regained her composure and murmured, “Mm.”

Xu Yi led by example, burying his face in his food again and wolfing it down. Between mouthfuls, he mumbled, “Eat up. The food here is way better than at home. Heh, saves my family a meal—my mother’s thrilled.”

Encouraged by him, Zhan Jianxing resumed eating normally. Truthfully, the food here was indeed better than at home, generously seasoned with oil and salt—luxuries most common households couldn’t afford to use so freely.

After the meal, with about half an hour before the afternoon calligraphy lesson, Xu Yi dozed off at the table. When he woke, he wanted to visit the privy and invited Zhan Jianxing to join him.

Zhan Jianxing also needed to go but couldn’t agree. She waited until Xu Yi returned and dozed off again before quietly slipping out.

The Discipline and Virtue Institute’s current location was part of the official quarters for the prince’s subordinates, so the privy facilities were decent. After asking a servant for directions, she found it divided into small, separate stalls. Relieved, she nervously took care of her business and returned to the room.

Too wary to nap outside, Zhan Jianxing remembered the upcoming calligraphy lesson and fetched some water. On returning, she nudged Xu Yi awake.

Xu Yi, his cheek creased from his sleeve, smacked his forehead. “Right, we should grind ink. Jianxing, you’re always so meticulous.”

Sharing the water with Zhan Jianxing, they began grinding ink together.

Midway through, Xu Yi remembered his role as a Study Companion and turned to Zhu Chengjun in front. “Uh, Ninth Master, should I grind some for you too?”

Zhu Chengjun, slumped in his chair with his head hanging low, gave no response.

Xu Yi was puzzled. He stood up, craned his neck to peek forward, then leaned back and whispered to Zhan Jianxing with a playful tongue, “He’s asleep.”

Zhan Jianxing nodded.

Grinding ink was a rather tedious task. After a while, Xu Yi grew bored and whispered again, “Why doesn’t he go back to his own room to sleep?”

The chairs were cold and hard—fine for young study companions like them to endure, but why would he subject himself to such discomfort?

Zhan Jianxing shook her head. She didn’t know either.

“Having wealth and power isn’t all that great,” Xu Yi murmured with a sigh. “Many of the nobles here aren’t happy, and some are a bit… odd.”

The “odd” one was clearly referring to Zhu Chengjun. Zhan Jianxing had seen him one more time than Xu Yi, but she still couldn’t quite grasp his temperament. Zhu Chengjun was barely two years older than her, yet he seemed shrouded in an enigmatic haze—his emotions and moods were inscrutable. The vivid, rakish demeanor he’d displayed at the steamed bun shop that day had been fleeting, like an ephemeral bloom. Since then, he’d shown little presence, no matter who he was with.

Zhan Jianxing didn’t dwell on things she couldn’t understand. After all, it had nothing to do with her. She wasn’t here as Zhu Chengjun’s study companion.

Once Xu Yi had finished grinding his own ink, he stood up quietly, took the inkstone from Zhu Chengjun’s desk, and brought it to his own table. As he ground the ink for him, he whispered, “Jianxing, why don’t you grind some for Seventh Master too? That way, when he arrives, he won’t find his inkstone empty and pick on you again.”

Zhan Jianxing hesitated for a moment, then nodded and did as suggested.

As the two continued grinding, the young attendant Qiu Guo entered. He seemed to have been sent on an errand by Zhu Chengjun earlier. Now, upon returning and seeing Zhu Chengjun slumped over in a doze, he gasped in dismay and lightly stamped his foot. “How could His Lordship sleep like this? He’ll catch a chill!”

He hurried to a corner, fetched a fur cloak—the very one Zhang Ji had sent earlier—and moved to drape it over Zhu Chengjun. But his bustling about had already stirred Zhu Chengjun awake.

Pushing the cloak away with a hand, Zhu Chengjun murmured sleepily, “No need.”

Qiu Guo frowned. “If Your Lordship is tired, why not return to your room?”

Zhu Chengjun rubbed his neck—sleeping hunched in a chair had left him stiff from neck to back. His voice was slow, laced with lingering drowsiness. “I never used to feel sleepy at noon. But that teacher droned on all morning and bored me into exhaustion.”

Qiu Guo burst into laughter, but halfway through, his gaze accidentally flicked to the doorway. His laughter choked off abruptly, as if caught in his throat.

From his reaction, Zhu Chengjun sensed what had happened. Unfazed, he continued kneading the back of his neck, twisting into an irreverent posture as he turned his head toward the door.

There, standing with one foot over the threshold and the other still outside, was Chu Hanlin—the very “droning” teacher he’d just mentioned. Their eyes met, and Chu Hanlin’s expression was indescribable.

Author’s Note:

The matter with the maid is addressed here. It was hinted at in the previous chapter, but Zhu Chengchang was cut off mid-sentence by Chu Hanlin, so it might not have been clear.

For Chu Hanlin, he had no desire to involve himself in the power struggles of the nobility. As a Hanlin academician with a promising career ahead, his sole goal was to successfully educate Zhu Xiao Jiu and return to the capital to report his mission accomplished.

Of course, he would gradually realize… teaching Zhu Xiao Jiu to read might be more challenging than helping a prince ascend the throne…