Wei Zhao · Chat

Early spring arrived just as the New Year festivities concluded, yet the biting chill had not entirely receded from the capital. The old locust tree in the academy courtyard stretched its bare branches, and the morning breeze sweeping beneath the veranda still carried a piercing sharpness. The bluestone paths were frosted pale with cold, and the breaths of the sweeping servants condensed into white mist. Wei Zhao had risen before dawn. After the New Year, an imperial edict had been issued—in recognition of the rigorous discipline and well-ordered scholarship at Qingyuan Academy, which he had established, the Emperor specifically sent the First Prince, Second Prince, Third Prince, and two princesses to be educated under his tutelage. It was an immense honor, but also an immense headache. The First Prince was arrogant, the Third Prince indolent, and the two princesses had been pampered in the palm of the Empress Dowager's hand since infancy, never once subjected to any rules. Anyone else would have lost sleep over the anxiety. Wei Zhao had only knelt briefly before the imperial edict. Upon rising, he instructed his attendant to rearrange the largest lecture hall: remove all cushions and warmers, leaving only hard wooden tables and chairs, and fling the window shutters wide open. The attendant hesitatingly reminded him, "Grand Tutor, it is still cold..." He merely cast a cool glance, and the attendant dared not utter another word. At the third quarter of the hour of Chen, the princes and princesses arrived at the academy, surrounded by their attendants. The Second Prince frowned the moment he entered, complaining about the hard chairs and the freezing room, immediately demanding someone return to fetch his fox-fur robe and hand warmer. The Third Prince was more casual, sprawling across his desk and yawning as he muttered, "The holiday isn't even over yet. Imperial Father is in far too much of a rush." The Crown Prince bowed dutifully and took his seat, though he too rubbed his hands together quietly against the cold. Only Li Bohe had arrived earliest. Seated at the very front row by the window, her books were already spread out before her. In her inkstone was pine-soot ink freshly ground by Wei Zhao himself, and tucked discreetly at the corner of her desk was a small bronze hand warmer. No one else had one—only her. She looked up toward the tall, cool figure by the doorway. Wei Zhao had his eyes lowered as he flipped through the roll, not even glancing up, as if the hand warmer had nothing to do with him. Suppressing a smile at the corner of her lips, she lowered her head and pretended to read. As murmurs of complaint rose among the princes and princesses, Wei Zhao closed the roll and raised his gaze; the hall fell dead silent in an instant. Those pitch-black phoenix eyes slowly swept over the room, and even the haughtiest Second Prince sat up a little straighter without realizing it. When he spoke, his tone was exceedingly calm and his voice not loud, yet every word carried distinctly to everyone's ears: "From this day forth, you hold but a single identity in my presence—students. Be you prince or princess, any infraction will be punished equally." He paused, his gaze sweeping past Li Bohe and lingering on her for less than a heartbeat before moving on, as if it were merely part of an ordinary glance. "There are no exceptions." With her head lowered, Li Bohe's fingertips gently brushed against the warm little bronze stove. Outside the window, the wind blew bitter and bleak, and the room was chilly enough to breathe white mist, yet the corner of her desk was warm. She knew that the Grand Tutor's rules could sometimes take a detour. A detour meant solely for her. ---