The next morning, as Kongqing saw Shu Changyu off to his carriage, he looked like he wanted to say something several times, but in the end said nothing.
Shu Changyu was nursing a pounding headache from yesterday’s drinking and didn’t notice anything unusual about Kongqing. Only when he picked up his book box did he feel that it seemed heavier than usual.
Shu Changyu thought that he must have drunk too much yesterday, leaving his limbs sore and weak—so even the box felt heavy.
He had always known his own alcohol tolerance well. But that was based on his previous life, when years of political banquets had trained him thoroughly. Ordinary drinking occasions had long ceased to matter to him. In this life, however, his body still belonged to an inexperienced young nobleman who had barely entered society, so naturally it couldn’t withstand the drinking habits of an old political veteran like him.
After morning court that day, he went again to teach Jing Mu.
“The Thousand Character Classic and Three Character Classic I brought yesterday are a bit too simple for Your Highness,” Shu Changyu said as he set the book box on the table and opened it. “Today I brought The Analects. From now on, I shall begin teaching Your Highness from the Four Books—”
As he spoke, he looked into the box and suddenly froze. The words on his lips came to an abrupt halt.
Jing Mu looked over and saw Shu Changyu with a dark expression, unwillingly pulling out a plate of jade-green, delicately crafted emerald bean cakes from the box.
The moment Jing Mu saw the plate, he froze. Tears instantly welled up in his eyes.
From Shu Changyu’s death in his previous life, through the years Jing Mu spent alone conquering the realm and reversing time itself, he had not shed a single tear.
But now, seeing the bean cakes in Shu Changyu’s hands… he simply couldn’t hold back.
In the previous life, every day Shu Changyu came to teach him, he would bring pastries. Perhaps because Shu Changyu himself liked emerald bean cakes best, that was what he brought most often. Over time, Jing Mu grew fond of them as well.
Jing Mu disliked sweets. Every time he ate them, his stomach churned and nausea rose in his throat.
But whenever he saw Shu Changyu handing him pastries with that gentle expression, he felt that as long as Shu Changyu stood before him, even the most unbearable food could be swallowed.
But after that man was persecuted and his family destroyed, no one ever again tucked snacks into a book box like a chipmunk hiding food in its cheeks and secretly brought them into the palace for him.
Now, not only had that person returned, but he had yet to endure the torment of blood debts and ruin. In a daze, he was still that proud and unrestrained youth from before…
How wonderful.
Shu Changyu, meanwhile, frowned deeply.
This plate of pastries—who knew when it had been packed into his box—lay arrogantly atop all his books. If he wanted the books, he had to remove it first.
He cleared his throat twice, put on an indifferent expression, and casually set the plate before Jing Mu.
Without looking at him, he pulled out the books underneath, brushed off the crumbs, and said coldly, “Yesterday I saw that the pastries in Your Highness’s palace were no longer edible. It just so happened that my household made some bean cakes, so I brought them for Your Highness to try.”
Then he handed the book to Jing Mu.
The moment he looked up, he saw Jing Mu with lips tightly pressed together, both hands clenched into fists, eyes red as he stared at him without blinking.
The emotions in those eyes were far too complicated—barely concealed excitement, and the joy of something once lost being regained.
Shu Changyu was startled.
In the previous life, Jing Mu hadn’t reacted this strongly.
Why in this life… was he this greedy for pastries?
Even in his previous life, Shu Changyu had always been weakest against this look from Jing Mu. This life was no exception.
He told himself his heart was as hard as stone, but the moment he saw Jing Mu looking pitiful, it crumbled.
He thought: the world may indeed be filthy and hateful—but what does any of that have to do with Jing Mu?
From his previous life to this one, Jing Mu had suffered far too much torment and pain he never should have borne.
Shu Changyu himself was just as filthy and detestable as everyone else in this world, willing to do anything to achieve his goals.
Only Jing Mu was different.
And yet he had suffered the most.
The fault lay with the world.
What had Jing Mu done wrong?
The more he thought about it, the softer his heart became. He couldn’t even keep up his cold expression.
With a sigh, he said quietly, “Your Highness must not indulge too much in appetite. Wait until today’s lessons are finished before eating the pastries.”
Jing Mu pressed his lips together and said nothing, only nodding with reddened eyes.
Shu Changyu reopened the book and resumed teaching.
The lesson was the same content Jing Mu had already heard once before in his previous life.
Not to mention, during the twenty-odd years after that, he had already seen every aspect of human nature and read countless books.
So now he merely put on the appearance of listening attentively while finding chances to look at Shu Changyu.
The dragon throne in his previous life had sat too high. Shu Changyu always kept his head lowered, so Jing Mu could never clearly see his face.
During the decade after Shu Changyu’s death, Jing Mu lived alone, sustained only by memories of him.
And the memory he returned to most often was Shu Changyu teaching him.
Back then, Jing Mu had still been a boy, and Shu Changyu wasn’t much older—just another young man newly entering the world.
At that time, Shu Changyu held a heart devoted to saving the world. He treated all things—and Jing Mu—with gentleness.
His gaze had been clear, his teaching patient and sincere. Every time their eyes met, Jing Mu felt as though bathed in spring wind, his heart stirred.
The current Shu Changyu was one who had returned after weathering countless storms.
Though very different from who he had been at this point in the previous life, in Jing Mu’s eyes he had become endearing in entirely new ways.
Having spent years as a powerful minister directing affairs of state, Shu Changyu was naturally no longer suited to being confined behind a small desk.
Thus, with such a soul stuffed into a young body, he seemed awkward and constrained in a strangely charming way.
He lacked patience—but not toward Jing Mu.
Rather, he was irritated by the simple, painfully obvious teachings in the books, frustrated by how shallow and basic they were.
Jing Mu could also tell that although Shu Changyu’s heart had been worn into stone, he was still soft toward him.
But that softness came only from the bond between teacher and student.
Shu Changyu saw him as innocent and pitiful, still treating him as the Jing Mu from his previous life. He pitied him the way one might pity a small animal.
Jing Mu understood this clearly.
So he moved carefully, never letting Shu Changyu realize that he too had come from the future.
He did not want Shu Changyu to know that he was the useless emperor who had harbored improper feelings for him and willingly allowed himself to be manipulated for over a decade.
Nor did he want him to know that he was the tyrant who slaughtered thousands of innocents to reverse time.
Just like now.
This was perfect.
So what if Shu Changyu didn’t love him?
As long as he loved Shu Changyu, that was enough.
Shu Changyu remained focused on explaining the Confucian classics he hadn’t touched in over ten years, naturally unaware of Jing Mu’s gaze—gentle as water yet overflowing with desire.
By the time lessons ended that day, noon had long passed.
After bidding Jing Mu farewell, Shu Changyu walked toward the palace gates.
At the gate, he saw a palace maid carrying a food box bowing to him.
He glanced at her and vaguely recognized her as one of Jing Mu’s attendants—someone planted by the Empress.
Shu Changyu naturally knew how crude the food inside the box must be.
He glanced at her and asked, “From Lu Ming Palace?”
The maid quickly curtsied and answered yes.
“I never see anyone around there. Now lunch hour has long passed—what are you doing here?” Shu Changyu asked with a gentle smile.
His voice sounded warm as spring breeze.
Yet the maid felt a chill crawl up her spine.
Shu Changyu had no interest in tangling with her. Without waiting for her answer, he simply took his book box and left.
The maid turned and glared hatefully at his back before carrying the food box inside.
The moment she entered, she saw a crystal-clear plate of emerald bean cakes displayed prominently on the dining table.
Jing Mu sat at the desk, head lowered, working on his assignments.
“Second Prince, this is…?” the maid asked, already having guessed.
Seeing her point at the pastries, Jing Mu answered indirectly.
“Don’t touch them.”
Seeing how protective he was, the maid said on her own, “Lord Shu brought them, didn’t he?”
She narrowed her eyes, watching Jing Mu’s reaction.
Jing Mu pressed his lips together and said nothing.
After a long pause, he gave a nearly inaudible hum, then lowered his head and continued working.
The maid now had her answer.
As she absentmindedly laid out lunch, she thought about reporting everything to the Empress later.
She failed to notice the calculating look that flashed through Jing Mu’s lowered eyes.
—
“Lord Shu, please wait.”
Just as Shu Changyu reached the area near the princes’ quarters, he heard someone call out to him.
He turned and saw the First Prince, Jing Yan, approaching from behind.
This path was quiet and secluded. Few people ever came here besides those going to Lu Ming Palace.
So Jing Yan’s presence made it obvious he had been waiting here for some time.
Shu Changyu turned calmly and bowed.
“Greetings, First Prince.”
“I encountered a phrase in my studies today that I cannot quite understand,” Jing Yan said, lightly supporting Shu Changyu’s arm, smiling like a gentle spring breeze. “Since I have met the famously talented Lord Shu, I hope to seek your guidance.”
“Please ask, Your Highness.”
“A fine bird chooses the tree it perches in.” Jing Yan said slowly, studying Shu Changyu’s expression. Then, meaningfully, he asked, “What comes next again?”
Shu Changyu acted as if he hadn’t caught the hidden meaning and replied plainly, “Your Highness, the next line is: A worthy minister chooses the lord he serves.”
Inside, however, Shu Changyu nearly laughed.
In his previous life, he had little interaction with the First Prince. He hadn’t realized this brat was so inflated with self-importance.
Now he was practically calling himself a wise ruler in front of him?
What a joke.
Shu Changyu had already lived through one life.
He knew perfectly well how clumsy Jing Yan’s methods were.
Back then, before Shu Changyu was even imprisoned and while the emperor was still healthy, Jing Yan had already grown restless. In no time at all, he managed to ruin himself, reduced to commoner status and confined to the palace.
With conduct like yours, what right do you have to ask me to choose you as my lord?
Jing Yan naturally had no idea what Shu Changyu was thinking.
Seeing no reaction, he continued.
“You know the phrase, then that’s good. You also know that I am Father Emperor’s eldest son. Though my birth mother died early, I was raised under Empress Mother’s care and count as half a legitimate eldest son. Lord Shu is brilliant and born of a military family, so surely you understand that choosing sides—”
“Your Highness, that phrase comes from The Analects. Based on the princes’ curriculum, you should have learned it at age eight,” Shu Changyu interrupted calmly, as though he hadn’t heard anything else.
He continued, “The Analects also says: ‘Reviewing the old to learn the new makes one fit to teach.’ If Your Highness has time, perhaps you should try this practice of ‘reviewing the old to learn the new.’”
With that, Shu Changyu bowed and turned to leave, leaving Jing Yan fuming in place.
Shu Changyu thought to himself: enduring false courtesies with court officials at least offers some benefit.
Wasting time on this fool offers none at all.
Author’s Note:
Jing Mu: “A fine bird chooses the tree it perches in.”
Shu Changyu: “Hm?”
Jing Mu: “What Big Brother meant today… was that he’s hinting for you to marry me.”