After hearing Shu Changyu’s question, Sitiao answered without a second thought, smiling brightly, “That’s right. She used to serve in His Majesty’s Zhenyuan Hall. A few days ago, His Majesty rewarded His Highness with quite a few nice things, and Sister Handan was among them. Sister Handan is beautiful and gentle too—His Highness took a liking to her at first sight…”
Sitiao kept chattering proudly as if sharing in the honor herself, but Shu Changyu was already calculating in his heart.
Perhaps because this life differed from the last, Jing Mu’s romantic feelings had awakened seven or eight years earlier?
That instantly reminded him of that matter from his previous life—“none but you.” For some reason, thinking of it again now made his heart feel sour and uncomfortable.
He thought, if he was lucky in this life, perhaps things would turn out like before—he might pick up a bargain son again and continue living that kind of life that looked deeply affectionate on the surface, yet had never once involved sharing a bed. But this brat had it easy. Before Shu Changyu could even arrange a harem of beauties for him, by sheer chance he had already found that “none but you” person.
Too bad this brat was all show and no substance.
Thus one chatted nonstop while the other smiled and nodded outwardly, though countless thoughts churned in his mind, as they walked all the way into Zhongli Palace.
Just in time to enter Jing Mu’s line of sight as he stood at the entrance waiting for Shu Changyu.
He watched as the two approached together—one dressed in a low-ranking official’s robes, the other in palace maid attire, chatting and laughing as they walked. Though the woman kept proper etiquette and stayed half a step behind, the image of them walking side by side instantly overlapped with the past.
In his previous life, Shu Changyu and Princess Danyao had been just like this—a perfectly matched pair, walking through the palace bathed in spring, coming to pay respects to him the day after their wedding.
Pay respects?
Seeing such a scene, how could he possibly feel at peace?
Jing Mu was dragged back to the one memory from his previous life he most wanted to avoid. The hand at his side slowly tightened, nails digging into his palm.
Yet Shu Changyu noticed nothing.
Once inside Zhongli Palace, Sitiao bowed to Jing Mu, carried her box away to attend to her duties, and left. Shu Changyu carried his book chest alone across the pristine white marble floor and stopped before Jing Mu.
The moment Shu Changyu saw him standing there, his brows furrowed. Before Jing Mu could bow, Shu Changyu caught his arm and asked with a frown, “I heard His Highness was caned by His Majesty yesterday. Are your injuries serious? Why are you still standing here waiting for me?”
Jing Mu’s lips were pale, and even his smile looked forced. “Grand Tutor, the injuries aren’t severe. It’s nothing.”
“And you still say it’s nothing?” Shu Changyu saw he was standing unsteadily. Clearly the beating had been harsh. He frowned. “Why aren’t you inside resting?”
He was about to reach out and support him when a pair of pale, delicate hands suddenly appeared from the side and gently held Jing Mu.
“This servant tried to persuade His Highness, but he insisted on coming to greet you, my lord.” The palace maid lowered her head with a shy yet alluring smile as she supported Jing Mu inside. Jing Mu kept his eyes lowered, unreadable, and followed her in.
In that brief glance just now, Shu Changyu had already seen clearly.
This maid possessed extraordinary beauty. Like a blooming peony—seductive but not vulgar. Even that single glance she had cast at him shimmered like rippling water, layered with hidden meaning.
Now, as she turned away and helped Jing Mu into the hall, her figure was even more striking. Her slender waist seemed delicate enough to grasp in one hand, and every step she took swayed with elegance. Truly a rare beauty.
Shu Changyu’s brows knit together.
Could this be Handan?
Though he had spent decades with an utterly blank romantic life and had scarcely interacted with women, his judgment was sharp. With just one glance, he sensed this woman was no good—calculating and ambitious, the type who sought to climb through power and favor.
Thinking that, the discomfort in his chest worsened.
So this was Jing Mu’s taste? He only knew how to judge by appearance and couldn’t see anything beyond that?
What a fool.
With that thought, Shu Changyu followed the two inside.
Jing Mu stood beside the desk, supported by the maid. When he saw Shu Changyu enter, he smiled again and said, “Grand Tutor, it’s inconvenient for me to sit, so I’ll stand and listen to today’s lesson.”
Unexpectedly, Shu Changyu ignored him entirely.
Without even glancing at Jing Mu or replying, he stared directly at Handan, looked her up and down, and asked, “This palace maid looks unfamiliar. What is her name?”
The smile on Jing Mu’s face froze.
For a moment, the atmosphere turned awkwardly silent.
Handan was quick-witted. Hearing this, she immediately answered, “Replying to my lord, this servant is Handan. I was transferred from Zhenyuan Hall to serve Second Prince.”
Jing Mu glanced at her but said nothing.
“A fine name.” Shu Changyu thought to himself, So it really is her. Out loud, he offered perfunctory praise. He was just about to warn her to know her place when Jing Mu interrupted him, cutting off the rest of his words.
“You may leave first.”
His voice was cold.
Handan immediately withdrew.
Shu Changyu paused, anger flaring inside him.
Good brat. Already defying your Grand Tutor for a pretty face. Back then you obeyed my every word, but now I can’t even reprimand this girl a few times?
He looked up at Jing Mu.
Only to find Jing Mu staring back at him.
Secretly, Jing Mu’s fists were clenched tight, though nothing showed on his face.
He had kept Handan by his side purely because she would be useful. Even when he first decided to keep her, he had hesitated, because this woman’s face resembled Princess Danyao by three or four parts.
Though in his past life he had only met that woman a handful of times, anyone who had stood beside Shu Changyu—even reduced to ashes—would still be recognizable to him.
He had only been impatient, desperate to gain enough power as soon as possible so he could protect the entire Shu family beneath his wings. Keeping this woman had been a necessary compromise.
But in this life…
His Grand Tutor had actually noticed her.
Jing Mu felt as if all his organs were twisting together. His eyes reddened.
He clenched his fists, suppressing the urge to stride forward, pin Shu Changyu beneath him, question him, kiss him, force him.
Why?
In the previous life, Shu Changyu had been “none but you” toward Princess Danyao. In this life, even Handan could capture his attention.
If all he cared about was appearance, then why was he alone not enough?
For a fleeting moment, Jing Mu hated Shu Changyu.
He wanted to destroy this cold-hearted, heartless man.
Yet the instant their gazes met, the burning hatred tearing through his organs melted into spring water—soft affection mixed with helplessness, binding the beast roaring inside him.
He could be ruthless with anyone.
Only with this person was he completely powerless.
Shu Changyu watched Jing Mu’s red-rimmed eyes and tightly pressed lips. All his intentions to lecture him thoroughly faded away.
He sighed.
Perhaps this boy had simply received too little in life, which was why his standards were so shallow. Otherwise, he would never have become so dependent on a sinful elder like himself.
And now he was injured.
Why make things difficult?
There would be time to teach and guide him later.
With that thought, Shu Changyu said softly, “Jing Mu?”
Jing Mu only stared at him in silence.
Shu Changyu sighed again, stepped closer, and held his arm.
“What are you standing here for? You’re injured—you can’t stand this long. Go lie on the couch. If you insist on studying, then I’ll teach you there.”
As he moved, he touched Jing Mu’s hand.
The boy’s hand was icy cold, drenched in clammy sweat.
“…Does it hurt?” Shu Changyu asked.
At those words, Jing Mu lifted his eyes to look at him.
Those puppy-like eyes were red, glistening with tears.
“…It hurts,” Jing Mu said quietly.
That low, restrained reply instantly erased all the hostility in Shu Changyu’s heart.
He lifted a hand, held Jing Mu by the shoulder, and guided him toward the couch.
“If it hurts, why insist on standing? Are you stupid?”
As they passed the desk, Jing Mu glanced sideways at the damaged kite lying on top.
As expected.
It could not be allowed to fly freely on its own.
—
Jing Cong’s butt had bruised purple and blue, and it hurt whenever anything touched it.
That day, Noble Consort Hui had summoned the imperial physician. After multiple examinations, nothing serious was found.
Naturally, Noble Consort Hui refused to believe it. She dragged the physician into repeated examinations, but still no issue could be diagnosed.
In the end, she simply came to her own conclusion and forced Jing Cong to stay in her palace, suspending all his lessons so he could recover properly for ten days to half a month.
Jing Cong was thrilled.
The most painful part of his daily life had always been the hours spent at the princes’ academy. He never understood what the instructors were teaching and could only sit there like an idiot listening. On unlucky days, he even had to bite his pen and painfully squeeze out homework one character at a time.
It was torture.
But now things were wonderful.
Every day he only had to eat snacks and play with toys in his mother’s palace. Aside from a sore butt whenever he sat down, life was perfect.
He even thought maybe in the future he should deliberately provoke his hot-tempered Second Imperial Brother every few days, take a beating, and avoid ever having to suffer at the academy again.
But after only two days, Jing Cong got bored again.
Noble Consort Hui wouldn’t even let him leave the main hall. No matter how capable he was, he could only tumble around within this tiny space.
Jing Cong hated confinement the most. He felt stifled.
But because he had exaggerated his condition to avoid lessons—wailing about pain every time he saw his mother—there was no way he could leave now.
So on the third day, while his mother went to nap in a side chamber, Jing Cong secretly slipped out of the main hall and ran into the garden to dig for bugs among the flowers.
Now this was life.
Wide open space—this was where great things happened!
But before he had dug up even two bugs, he suddenly felt someone grab the back of his neck and haul him upright.
Since he had snuck out, he didn’t dare shout.
So he could only struggle helplessly as that person dragged him by the collar behind a nearby tree.
Only then did he get a chance to look at who had dared ambush him.
To his surprise, it was his taciturn older brother, Jing Kuang.
“This morning you were still telling Mother you hurt all over. Yet now you have energy to sneak out and play?”
Jing Kuang’s face was cold, his soft youthful features stern and serious.
“Were you faking being sick?”
“No!” Jing Cong stiffened his neck. “It just suddenly stopped hurting!”
Jing Kuang grabbed his chubby cheek.
“You’re still lying? Tomorrow you’re coming with me to apologize to Second Imperial Brother. After that, you’re going back to the princes’ academy.”
Normally Jing Cong feared no one least of all this brother.
But at this moment, Jing Kuang’s cold glare looked terrifying.
Jing Cong was the type to bully the weak and fear the strong. All the defiant words on his tongue immediately disappeared.
Forget it.
What if Big Brother had learned how to hit people from Second Imperial Brother?