The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

"Your Highness."

Pei Yanchuan spoke, his voice lower and hoarse than usual due to the turmoil in his emotions.

"The knowledge imparted to me in the fifth year of the Lintai Academy is as vast as the ocean, covering classics, history, strategy, astronomy, geography, law, military tactics, and more."

"It may be difficult to completely eradicate the problem overnight."

"It's alright, just do your best."

Tang Xixue looked into his eyes.

Those eyes, illuminated by the candlelight, were a pure black, yet utterly desolate.

Like a deep lake frozen by the cold, it reflects no warmth whatsoever, only boundless silence and defensiveness.

"Where...do we begin?"

Pei Yanchuan quickly lowered his eyelashes, concealing all the emotions in his eyes, and turned his gaze back to the books.

"In that case, let's begin with the Imperial Advisor's most valued works, the 'Strategic Mirror' and the 'Geography of the Nine Provinces'."

His voice returned to its usual cool and composed tone, as if nothing had happened.

He reached out and took the topmost copy of "The Geography of the Nine Provinces".

Her fingers were well-defined, slender and long, and her nails were neatly trimmed, but they couldn't hide the thin calluses on her fingertips and between her thumb and forefinger that were not commensurate with her age.

Those are the marks left by copying books, working, and holding a pen.

As he turned the pages, his expression suddenly changed.

The moment you step into familiar territory, you are quietly replaced by a focused and restrained radiance.

His brows furrowed slightly, his gaze like a precise carving knife, quickly sweeping over lines of text and accompanying images. His thin lips occasionally parted silently, as if he were reciting or deducing something.

"Geography exam questions will not be limited to memorizing the names of mountains and rivers; they will require analyzing their causes and devising strategies to address them..."

As he spoke, he pulled out a sheet of plain paper from his desk and used his finger as a ruler to mark key points.

The handwriting is slender, firm, and elegant, with a rugged and unyielding style, possessing an undeniable momentum as if it were about to burst forth from the broken paper.

"For example, the northern border state of Linzhou..."

He lightly tapped a spot in the picture with his fingertip.

According to local records, the ancient course of the Blackwater River was changed in the third year of the Jingyao era, moving fifty li south.

"If the exam question stems from this, then we need to know: the reasons for the change of route?"

"What impact will this have on the original coastal grain transport and military preparedness?"

"What are the advantages and disadvantages of the new waterway? What were the successes and failures of the imperial court's response at the time? And what potential connection does it have with the current defense of the northern border?"

"..."

He spoke at a steady pace, yet with remarkable clarity, explaining each word to Tang Xixue.

The candlelight danced on his lowered profile, illuminating his slightly trembling eyelashes and tightly pursed lips.

That focused posture was particularly captivating.

"Your Highness, there is an error in the commentary on this section of the 'Discourses on Salt and Iron'."

His voice was soft, but every word was clear:

"What truly hinders the profits from salt and iron is never the prohibition of mountains and seas, but the chasm of people's hearts."

Tang Xixue looked at him; his clothes, washed to a crisp and faded white, concealed a heart that could traverse mountains and rivers; his body, covered with scars, both old and new, hid extraordinary talent and learning.

She suddenly remembered the book of fate that she had torn to pieces.

Among those cold, distorted words, there once existed a name, sketched with just a few strokes, yet it outlined a legend that made later historians put down their pens—Pei Yanchuan.

The youngest prime minister since the founding of Chenyao, he assisted the emperor and presided over five reforms. Finally, on a snowy night, he collapsed amidst a mountain of memorials due to a chronic illness from his youth.

At this moment, this future titan sat in the candlelight of her study in the Hall of Longevity, as pale as a thin porcelain dome about to shatter.

He walked into the Hall of Longevity on a snowy night, like a drop of thick ink that had been carelessly spilled into clear water.

At first it was just a tiny, insignificant mark, but she knew that in time, this drop of ink would slowly spread and eventually permeate the entire history of the dynasty.

How ironic.

The chosen ones that those transmigrated women desperately tried to win over were, in the Book of Fate, the stars that paved the way for the real Princess Shen Yan.

The person before us, without relying on the favor of heaven or the honor of bloodline, relied solely on his extraordinary talent honed through hardship, leaving a bloody mark with every step, and forging a different path to heaven in a game destined to collapse.

Tang Xixue pulled her wandering thoughts back and turned her gaze back to Pei Yanchuan.

He was looking down, organizing the key points of the policy essay he had just written, his long eyelashes casting two quiet shadows on his pale cheeks.

When he is focused, he unconsciously purses his lips slightly. The color of his lips is very light, like the palest cherry blossom petal on a branch in early spring. It blends strangely with the lingering coolness around him, creating a sense of fragile and delicate purity.

Like a white magnolia that should have grown in a deep valley, it was swept by the wind and snow to the eaves of her house, which was about to collapse.

Since this towering tree, which will eventually shade half the mountains and rivers, is now just a small white flower in her palace, swaying in the wind and rain, ready to be picked and broken by anyone.

Then it's not like she couldn't take advantage of his vulnerability... and take him away.

After all, it wouldn't be good for me; this innocent little flower would belong to the real princess Shen Yan in the future.

Her princess status will vanish like a mirage with Shen Yan's return.

If Shen Yan is the heroine of a storybook, surrounded by admirers.

Then Tang Xixue is probably the villainous supporting character destined to be scheming and hated by everyone.

"Your Highness?"

Pei Yanchuan's explanation had stopped sometime earlier.

"Has Your Highness remembered everything you just said?"

Pei Yanchuan's voice rang out from the depths of the candlelight, like a feather falling on still water.

Tang Xixue slowly closed the last scroll in her hand.

"Yes, I've mostly remembered them."

A languid weariness crept into her voice, like a stream warmed by the sun on a spring afternoon, flowing gently.

"It's getting late, Yanchuan."

Outside the window, the night was so dark it seemed impenetrable, and the snow fell silently.

"Go back and rest."

"Yes."

Pei Yanchuan responded.

"Then I'll take my leave."

He bowed, his posture impeccably respectful, even the curve of his sleeve brushing against the corner of the table seemed to have been measured.

As she turned, her slender shoulder blades bulged slightly beneath the fabric, like a butterfly about to take flight but then retracting its wings.

"etc."

Tang Xixue suddenly spoke.

Her fingertips passed over the flickering candlelight and pointed to the brand-new set of writing implements next to the bookshelf.

"This set is yours."

In her memory, the inkstone he used had a chipped edge, and the ink was of poor quality, which would bleed into a murky gray when written on paper.

Pei Yanchuan stopped in his tracks.

He turned around, and the candlelight illuminated his slightly widened eyes, which were filled with surprise.

Something flashed in those eyes, like starlight deep in the snow, so fast it seemed like an illusion.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

He bowed deeply, this time bending even lower.

As he got up, he walked toward the set of writing implements, his movements so careful they were almost reverent.

First, he gently touched the edge of the jade brush mountain to confirm that it was real, and then he picked it up with both hands.

He carefully tucked each item into his bosom, as if they were not cold objects, but fragile dreams.

He bowed again, walked to the door, and disappeared into the wind and snow outside the corridor.

"Your Highness, will you not keep Young Master Pei to serve you in bed?"

Li Shuang's voice was extremely low, like a feather brushing against the edge of a candle flame.

She was kneeling behind Tang Xixue, her nimble fingers moving through her jet-black hair, removing the exquisite velvet flower hairpin.

The bronze mirror reflected the figures of the master and servant: one leaning lazily against the dressing table, the other with curved eyebrows and an undisguised bias.

"Young Master Pei is so handsome, and so quiet..."

Li Shuang paused, wrinkled her nose slightly, and snorted.

"She's much more well-behaved than those young noblemen who always cause trouble for His Highness."

"He will never be as aloof and unapproachable as the Imperial Advisor, nor as hot-tempered as the young general, and certainly not like that cunning physician who hides a knife behind his smile."

Tang Xixue didn't reply, but only glanced at her in the mirror, her lips slightly upturned.

"Look how serious he was just now. He even held his breath while explaining, afraid of disturbing His Highness. Such a polite and well-behaved person will definitely be... very obedient."

In Li Shuang's heart, her prince will always be the best in the world, and should be happy and carefree.

"If we're talking about cleverness, Mu Liang is even more clever."

Tang Xixue stood up gracefully, and the snow-white fox fur cloak on her shoulder slipped off with her movement. With a casual flick of her hand, it floated lightly onto the sandalwood frame next to her, like a languid crane perched there.

"..."

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

In the corner, the hem of clothing, almost blending into the shadows, froze almost imperceptibly.

Mu Liang stood frozen in place, his handsome face, with its sharp angles, was so hot it could be used to fry pancakes.