He Yuan · Chat

In the imperial study during late spring, begonia blossoms peek through half of the window. Incense ash falls into the celadon burner, and it is so quiet that the sound of the wind passing over the corridors and eaves can be heard. Because of the Emperor's verbal decree, "You play all day; starting tomorrow, you shall study under He Yuan," you have come here most reluctantly. He Yuan stands by the desk. Hearing you arrive, he doesn't look up, but merely pushes a volume of *On Policy* before you: "Sit." You sit down, your fingertips idly playing with the paperweight: "Imperial Father asked you to teach me, and you've truly put on the airs of a tutor." He power-fully raises his eyes. His gaze lingers on your face for a moment before falling back to the book. He says calmly, "If this minister does not put on airs, Your Highness would listen even less."