Wei Jue lifted his head from the desk and saw a young page standing there. The boy’s face was full of tragic determination. Wei Jue arched a brow—thanks to his flawless memory, he recognized him as the study servant of Grand Scholar Zhou Yi.
“What is it?” Wei Jue asked.
The little page fell to his knees with a loud thump and kowtowed three times, respectfully greeting the emperor, praying in his heart that this respectful manner might spare him his dog’s life.
He didn’t dare lift his head, lowering it instead. His trembling voice wavered: “R-Reporting to Your Majesty, this lowly one is Grand Scholar Zhou’s study boy. Master said—Master said for me to come and tell you, to tell you…”
By the end, the page was on the verge of tears, face set with the resolve of one facing death.
Eunuch Xiaoyuzi stood nearby watching. He knew that the grand scholar was the princess’s tutor, and at this time of day, she should be in class. Curious, he looked over, just in time to hear the page stammering out:
“Th-The little princess falls asleep during lessons… Master has warned her several times, but she keeps doing it again the next day…”
“M-Master said, said if this continues, it’s better not to have lessons at all. What’s the point of enlightenment then…?”
The boy’s master had ordered him to repeat his words exactly to the emperor. The page’s heart was filled with dread; once he finished, he stayed kneeling, too weak with fear to rise.
The emperor was terrifying. And he—he had actually dared to run here to complain about the little princess! Everyone knew the emperor adored her, while his temper was notoriously bad. If he grew angry, throwing the page out would be the least of it—one stroke of the sword and his life would be gone!
The boy thought of how he had not yet married or borne children, had not yet dutifully cared for his parents, nor repaid his master’s life-saving kindness. His grief surged, and his mood was as bleak as the little fellows outside the study who had huddled together, crying their eyes out.
Eunuch Xiaoyuzi watched as the emperor’s lips curled in a cold smile. He quickly covered his eyes—Grand Scholar Zhou actually dared send someone to tattle on the princess? He had to admire that master and servant pair for their courage!
Who in the palace didn’t know that His Majesty held the little princess like a pearl in his palm? He couldn’t bear to scold or hit her, even personally braiding her hair every day. What other father in the world did such things?
Eunuch Xiaoyuzi silently mourned for Zhou and his page. Hopefully, His Majesty would be merciful and grant them an easy death.
The emperor asked, “Is she still asleep now?”
The page nodded miserably. “Master said, if Your Majesty is interested, you may come take a look. The little princess is sleeping soundly…”
Eunuch Xiaoyuzi: “…”
When the doors were pushed open, they saw several children crouching pitifully at the entrance of the imperial study, eyes swollen from crying. Eunuch Xiaoyuzi asked in surprise, “Aren’t you the princess’s study companions? Why are you here instead of attending lessons?”
The children looked up, only to see a tall man in golden robes standing before them. The eunuch beside him had just spoken.
Cheng Li, quick on his feet, immediately led the others to kneel and salute. All of them trembled with fear before the emperor, voices stammering as they paid their respects. Cheng Li said, “Reporting to Your Majesty, we only came to beg for leniency. The little princess is still young and growing, so she loves to sleep. Please, please don’t punish her.”
They knew Teacher Zhou’s page had already reported, and excuses were useless now. All they could do was plead for mercy.
For once, Wei Jue gave the children a proper look, then nodded slightly before striding into the study.
The children exchanged wide-eyed looks of disbelief. “D-Did His Majesty just nod at us?”
Jiang Cao said, “Yes! He even looked like he wasn’t angry?”
Cao Lian blinked. “The little princess always says His Majesty is the best person in the world. Could it really be true?”
Who cared if it was flattery—what mattered was that His Majesty didn’t seem ready to scold.
They cheered, clapped hands together, and hurried to trail behind the emperor back into the study.
Inside, Zhou Yi sat calmly with a book in hand, unaffected by the children’s absence. At the small desk in front of him, the princess lay fast asleep, showing only her fluffy little head.
When the emperor entered, Grand Academician Zhou put down his book and bowed.
“Your Majesty, the little princess naps every day. I cannot continue with her lessons like this. It may be better if Your Majesty chose another tutor.”
Everyone knew Zhou Yi was a rigid man, devoted to his books and intolerant of laziness or disrespect for knowledge. Such words from him came as no surprise.
Wei Jue thought of how his little girl had been following him everywhere lately—even to court at dawn. By the time court ended and she had breakfast, it was already time for lessons. It was no wonder she felt drowsy.
His brow creased, his aura turning colder. He blamed himself for not realizing this sooner.
The children shivered. The emperor looked frightening—was he angry at the princess? Maybe she wasn’t safe after all.
But just then, the little princess stirred, sniffled, and slowly opened her eyes. Seeing her father right in front of her, she instantly woke up.
“Father Emperor! Why are you here? Are you here to study too?”
She jumped down from her seat, ran over, and hugged his leg. He lifted her into his arms with ease.
Without even looking at Zhou, he said, “These past days, the princess has been attending court with me. She hasn’t had enough sleep.”
For the sake of his daughter’s well-being, he explained.
In truth, Wei Jue thought nothing of it. If his child wanted to sleep, she could sleep. If she wanted to read, she could read. But Eunuch Xiaoyuzi was always reminding him: the princess’s body and mind must be cared for, she mustn’t see blood, mustn’t be treated harshly, or it could harm her mental health.
Over time, Wei Jue came to believe his little girl was a fragile being, more delicate than the rarest flowers in the imperial garden, requiring the utmost protection.
Thinking of her mutterings about that “bad uncle” she distrusted so much, his lips curved faintly. He glanced at the open book on her desk and said, “Chaoyang will take today off. Resume tomorrow. Zhou Yi, if you are unwilling to teach, you need not return. I will find her another tutor.”
With that, he carried her away.
Before leaving, he looked at the children gazing at them with pleading eyes and, uncharacteristically gentle, said: “See that each of them is rewarded with an inkstone.”
Eunuch Xiaoyuzi covered his mouth to hide his grin, answering cheerfully. He knew His Majesty was rewarding the children for their heartfelt loyalty to the princess.
Promising little fellows indeed, he thought.
Zhou Yi, however, was furious. The emperor’s words only strengthened his resolve. He despised lazy students and swore he would not leave until the princess was properly disciplined.
But the next day, the princess no longer dozed. Bright-eyed, curious, and eager, she memorized passages in a single recitation, grasped meanings instantly, and proved herself a natural prodigy—surpassing even Cheng Li, who had begun studying long before her.
Zhou Yi was shaken, though outwardly calm. After a few tests, he realized she wasn’t faking—she was genuinely gifted. From disdain, his attitude shifted. He now praised her as an excellent student, calling her a rare talent, urging the others to learn from her.
The children: “……???”
After class, they exchanged wide-eyed stares. The world was changing too fast!
Cheng Li felt the most pressure. Once confident and ahead thanks to his early start, he now struggled to keep up. During a recent test, the princess scored a perfect ten, while he lost a point to carelessness.
Though it was only a mistake, he couldn’t shake the feeling—he had actually lost to the princess who had just begun learning!
Seeing him so gloomy, the other children suddenly felt much lighter. After all, he was the most troubled now.
He had always posed as the elder brother figure before them all, including the princess. Now, beaten by her, the others found it both sour and refreshing—how impressive their princess was!
Cao Lian sighed. He didn’t even have the right to be troubled—he was hopeless at studying anyway. Whoever came first had nothing to do with him.
Meanwhile, the dark-skinned boy didn’t join in. He propped his chin and stared at the lesson board, eyes wide and unblinking.
Jiang Cao caught sight of him and shivered. Why did it look like the boy’s eyes were glowing green, like he wanted to devour the board whole?
Moments later, the boy lowered his head, dejected. He still hadn’t remembered anything, couldn’t understand a word. His rival at the Prince’s household was right—he was ugly and stupid, destined for nothing. Best to behave quietly.
But then, glancing at the princess diligently practicing her characters, his strength returned. No, he couldn’t fall behind! Otherwise, he’d lose the right to be the friend of such a clever princess!
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