Wei Linxia found the topic ‘Guan Ju’, which was about male and female love, forcedly interpreted as “the virtues of imperial consorts,” a concept her father supported. Unhappy with the topics assigned, Princess Yan insisted that since they were all being taught, the writing should reflect their levels. Wei Taifu allowed them to choose between the two topics, and Wei Linxia naturally preferred the feminine essay. After class, Princess Yan proposed a walk to Lexing Garden outside the city due to the nice weather.
Li Weiheng, always eager for fun, was the first to agree.
He would go, and since he was going, his reading companion Wei Fengzhi would go too. So the four of them looked at Wei Linxia and Xi Linxuan.
“I haven’t been sleeping well these past few days, so I won’t go,” said Wei Linxia. She wasn’t particularly unwilling, but although some scenes were familiar, she didn’t want to make herself uncomfortable today.
Xi Linxuan would naturally not go either. Their absence wouldn’t affect anything. Among the four, three went happily, while only Wei Fengzhi looked bitter, afraid of the heat and dreading the city outing in such weather.
Wei Linxia suddenly thought, what’s good about accompanying the prince? Days aren’t one’s own. She shook her head and helped her father tidy up the small desks. When she reached Xi Linxuan’s desk, she discovered a line of text on the white paper: “A woman has thoughts, seeking but not obtaining, thinking day and night.” Wei Linxia frowned. If it was “you” with thoughts, was it written for her? If it was “woman,” who was it about? The phrase “seeking but not obtaining, thinking day and night,” had a sarcastic tone when reordered. Wei Linxia held the paper. Xi Linxuan’s desk was usually clean, and he would typically remove what he wrote. Did he leave this deliberately for her to find?
Her frown deepened.
Wei Linxia felt a hint of anger at Xi Linxuan’s satire. What was this thirteenth prince talking about? She crumpled the paper and tossed it into the wastebasket, only to retrieve it and soak it in the now-blackened ink wash.
Discovering a young girl’s thoughts, especially by an unpredictable man, irritated the usually composed Wei Linxia.
“What nonsense, hmph! Bad guy. If I had known you were so bad, I wouldn’t have sewn you a sachet,” she said to the ink wash, poking the paper ball with a brush as if it were Xi Linxuan himself.
Outside the study door, the young man in the wheelchair smiled slightly, feeling pleased. So, the steady Miss Wei could also get angry. He recalled the sachet she made for him. There were no sewing baskets in Madam Wei’s room, reflecting her limited needlework skills. Who else but the considerate Miss Wei would think to embroider a pine in the snow for him?
It seemed that when angry, the mature Miss Wei became lively.
Bad-hearted fellow, was he? Spot on.
Xi Linxuan deliberately made the rolling sound of his wheelchair louder. When Wei Linxia noticed him, she was first stunned, then widened her eyes and casually greeted, “Your Highness hasn’t left yet?”
“as if she had never been angry.
“I forgot a piece of paper with writing,” Xi Linxuan said.
“Oh, let me help you look,” Wei Linxia said, walking to the desk. “There’s no written paper here. Perhaps Your Highness remembered incorrectly?”
Xi Linxuan had just made up an excuse. Amused by Wei Linxia’s pretentious way of searching, he teased, “How could I remember incorrectly? I’m not in my eighties.”
Wei Linxia was inwardly furious but smiled innocently: “If you don’t believe me, Your Highness can look for yourself.”
Xi Linxuan rolled his wheelchair over, flipping through the papers. Not finding it, he pulled a paper from his sleeve, opened it, and frowned: “‘A woman has thoughts, seeking but not obtaining, thinking day and night.’ Right, this is it. Apologies for disturbing you.”
He left, barely suppressing a laugh.
Teasing someone seemed fun, much more interesting than those who neither fight back nor talk back.
Wei Linxia rolled her eyes at Xi Linxuan’s retreating back, glad no one saw.
Later, she took up her pen to write her assignment, composing an essay on ‘Guan Ju’ praising the virtues of imperial consorts.
No need for originality, just following rigid ancient interpretations, or her father would worry his daughter was learning bad things. She finished in less than half an hour and couldn’t be bothered to read it again. She thought about wandering folk at the edge of an endless desert, on verdant grasslands, snapping fingers at girls they liked and singing folk songs. Wasn’t life wonderful! What imperial consort virtues? Such forced interpretations.
During dinner, the charming guest Yan Junzhu enthusiastically described her travel situation. Wei Linxia noticed Wei Fengzhi’s gloomy expression and lowered her head when she accidentally glanced at the noble prince, muttering to herself, “What a bad guy.” After dinner, as Wei Linxia walked back to her room, someone grabbed her arm: “Sister Chenbei, I beg you for something.” She knew exactly what it was and replied, “No discussion.”
As she lifted the curtain and raised one foot, Wei Fengzhi pulled her arm forcefully: “Good Chenbei, just help me this once, and I’ll buy you two books later.” Wei Linxia replied, “If I’m not mistaken, Young Master Wei Chenli, you already owe me at least twenty books, plus a month’s allowance, which is probably around forty books. If you give me the books within five days, I’ll consider helping you write; otherwise, no discussion.” Wei Fengzhi claimed she was being unreasonable, to which Wei Linxia nodded: “Habits become flaws; who’s to blame? Like Sun Quan beating Huang Gai—if you don’t want to be beaten, I can’t help you.” She stepped into the room, smiled at Wei Fengzhi, and waved a folded paper filled with writing before putting it away and letting her maid close the door, leaving Wei Fengzhi squatting in the corridor, helplessly looking at the sky.
Weijia’s study was available for all young masters and ladies to use. Xi Linxuan, when bored, would casually read a book. As Wei Linxia noted, the Grand Tutor’s collection consisted mostly of classic texts, including the Three Histories and Five Classics, with various editions. The poetry primarily depicted social chaos and people’s misery from declining dynasties.
There were no traces of common street stories or popular poetry. Xi Linxuan thought that with such a scholarly daughter, this rigid old man would not allow her to read any unorthodox books.
One afternoon, Xi Linxuan came to the study, scanning the shelves until he spotted a book called “Imperial Dynasty Mirror.” It was too high to reach while sitting. With no one else around, he carefully stood, supporting the bookshelf, and was about to grab the book when he heard the study door open cautiously. He quickly sat down, as he was in the last row, hoping the newcomer wouldn’t notice him. Lowering his head, he peeked through the gaps and saw Wei Linxia tiptoeing along the bookshelf to the third row and crouching down, rustling sounds suggesting she was taking a book.
Xi Linxuan found it strange that she was being so cautious. Just then, he noticed her eyes looking back at him through the gap.
“Your Highness? You’re here too,” Wei Linxia said, trying to stay calm, while secretly tearing a page from a thin bamboo book without making a sound.
“Mm,” Xi Linxuan replied, curious about her actions.
After a moment of silence, Wei Linxia lowered her voice: “I accidentally tore a page from my father’s book and am afraid he’ll scold me, so I’m here to fix it.” She walked to the desk with the book and tools for repair, slowly pasting the page while hoping he would leave quickly.
