The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

"I thought that Princess Mirror, so pampered and precious, had even forgotten how to hold a pen—"

Si Xingxuan leaned back in the chair, his fingertips tapping casually on the rosewood armrest.

His gaze, however, seemed to have a fine hook, sweeping over her with great interest.

It wasn't until Li Shuang, who was standing to the side, presented him with the paper whose ink had just begun to dry.

His gaze, which had been carrying a hint of sarcasm, swept over the crowd casually.

The next instant, that languid posture vanished abruptly.

He straightened his back almost instinctively, and his gaze suddenly became sharp and focused.

The handwriting on the paper—

Its style is pure and refined, like a lone pine standing in the snow; its bold strokes reveal a majestic spirit; yet its turns and connections are graceful and agile, like flowing clouds emerging from a mountain peak.

How could this possibly be the writing of the legendary, ignorant, arrogant, and willful Princess Mirror?

If it weren't for the moist air still lingering in the varying shades of ink, and the sweet, pungent scent of pine smoke wafting into his nostrils, he would almost have thought it was the work of a great calligrapher.

But he saw it with his own eyes.

Watching her lay out the paper, moisten the brush, concentrate her mind, and let the wolf-hair brush flow obediently between her slender white fingers, producing lines of words that startled him.

But when his gaze shifted from the handwriting itself to the content being written, his astonishment instantly turned into a deeper shock.

This is indeed a prescription for medicine!

The exquisite combination of medicinal herbs, the rigorous arrangement of the principal, assistant, and adjuvant herbs, and the meticulous attention to the timing and temperature of the fire—with his keen eye, he could almost instantly determine that this prescription was genuine.

"Oh……"

He let out a low, ambiguous laugh, and lightly rubbed the edge of the paper with his fingertips.

"It's truly remarkable that you managed to memorize a prescription."

His tone remained sarcastic and unsettling, like a thread chilled by ice.

He tightened his grip on Danfang's hand slightly.

The resentment that surged within him because of the destruction of the rare copy of the "Tai Su Dan Jue" was like ice and fire clashing fiercely in his unfathomable eyes.

"Don't be hasty, Divine Physician Zheyue."

Tang Xixue seemed oblivious to the barb in his words, not even her eyelashes trembled.

With her wrist suspended in the air, she continued writing on the second sheet of paper.

His posture was focused and serene.

"Pear Frost".

"Get some freshly made snowflake crisps and plum blossom tea pudding for the young general."

Tang Xixue's pen continued to flow, her soft voice rising amidst the rustling of the brushstrokes.

"Also, prepare a plate of crystal pear cake for Young Master Si Xing."

"Go to the outer corridor of the palace, pick a sprig of red plum blossom, and give it to Young Master Si Xing to calm him down."

Li Shuang bowed her head in agreement and immediately withdrew quietly to prepare.

She moved with light steps, almost silently, and quickly prepared all the items the princess had instructed, placing them in exquisite porcelain dishes and jade cups before carrying them back to her study.

A small dish of snowflake crisps and a cup of warm plum blossom tea were gently placed on a tall flower table by the door.

Out of the corner of Feng Zhuo's eye, he caught a glimpse of the snowflake pastry, which was delicately shaped into a six-petaled snowflake with an enticing light golden edge, and decorated with frosting like the first snowflakes.

The tea cake was served in a translucent celadon-glazed cup, with two beautiful, honey-soaked winter plum blossoms floating on the surface, their delicate, cool fragrance mingling with the subtle aroma of milk.

This is a flavor he has loved since childhood.

I didn't expect her to remember.

"You...you don't think you can please me like this..."

The impatience and irritability on the young general's face vanished silently, like thin ice brushed by a warm breeze.

He kept his lips pursed, looking arrogant, but a bright glint appeared in his eyes.

"Ranzhi, sit on that soft couch over there and have something to eat first."

Tang Xixue's voice pierced the quiet air of the study and reached his ears.

"I was being presumptuous this time. I shouldn't have asked Mu Liang to invite you in that way if I wanted to see you."

She paused, her pen lingering briefly on a complex ancient character, her voice carrying a hint of apology and comfort.

"Try this snowflake crisp. See if the chef made it to your liking this time."

"snort."

A soft hum, tinged with the stubbornness of a young boy, came from the doorway.

"Since you're begging me like this, I'll reluctantly take a bite."

Feng Zhuo turned his face away, but eventually reached out, quickly picked up a piece of snowflake crisp, and put it in his mouth.

Those eyes instantly shone even brighter.

The flaky pastry crumbles between your teeth, instantly filling your mouth with a delicate sweetness and milky aroma, while the pine nuts and plum bits inside add a refreshing sweet and slightly sour flavor.

The familiar taste, exactly the same.

"The only decent thing about your place is your cook."

As he chewed, the pent-up anger in his chest from being forcibly brought here seemed to dissipate little by little, chewed up, swallowed, and dissolved along with the familiar taste.

He turned around as instructed, walked to the soft couch by the window covered with thick silver fox fur, and sat down.

He still held the warm plum blossom tea cup in his hand, the heat soothing his palms, which had grown slightly cool from standing in the wind and snow for so long, through the porcelain wall.

"It tastes the same as before."

He sat there, his gaze involuntarily drawn once again to the figure behind the desk, head bowed, writing.

"Yeah, the chef hasn't changed, so the taste is pretty much the same."

The candlelight outlined Tang Xixue's focused profile, her dark hair falling down, the icy tassels trembling slightly, and her bright eyes, which held a hint of intoxicating mist and rain, were fixed on the tip of her pen.

"When you go back, have Li Shuang pack a box for you to take with you; you can eat it again tomorrow."

"it is good."

Feng Zhuo responded softly.

"I also want plum blossom pastries."

He suddenly spoke, his voice carrying a hint of stubbornness unique to young people, as if he were testing a boundary or confirming some kind of privilege.

"Can."

Tangxi Xue paused lightly on the paper with her brush, then smoothly continued with the next stroke.

The corners of her lips curved into an almost imperceptible, extremely gentle arc, like ripples spreading across a still lake under the moonlight.

My childhood.

He was the most restless son of a military family, and she was a royal jewel on whom high hopes were placed.

On many snowy nights, with charcoal burning in the study, she would spread out Xuan paper, and he would idly lie on the other side, watching her grind ink.

He disliked literature and calligraphy, and had no patience for practicing calligraphy and copying model texts.

Whenever he was punished by the teacher at Lintai to copy texts, she would move his paper, take his hand that was awkwardly holding a gun or sword but not a brush, and guide him stroke by stroke to straighten the crooked characters.

At first, he would frown impatiently, but when he touched the cool temperature of her fingertips, he would inexplicably quiet down and let her guide him to complete those lessons that he considered useless.

People in the palace always liked to joke that the young general of the Feng family was not Princess Jing's study companion at all, but rather an inseparable little tail.

"you……"

Feng Zhuo's gaze shifted from her serene profile to the flowing handwriting.

His Adam's apple bobbed slightly, and his fingers gripping the cup tightened unconsciously, his knuckles turning white.

"Didn't they say... you had amnesia? How come... you still remember how to write?"

The question came out with a cautious, almost clumsy inquiry, and a hint of nervousness that even he himself was not fully aware of.

"Burn it."

"I just have amnesia, I haven't become mentally challenged."

Tang Xixue looked up at him with a smile.

He's still the same as before, seemingly irritable and easily angered, but actually simple-minded. A little bit of sweetness is all it takes to soothe his unruly nature.

"oh."

Feng Zhuo seemed to be burned by that smile, quickly averting his gaze to the slightly swirling milky white cheese in his teacup, and muttered something under his breath, so indistinct it was almost inaudible:

"I thought... that high fever you had back then really damaged your brain..."

Otherwise, how could his Ah Xue have the heart to kill him?

"Young General Feng, you should be more careful with your words."

Si Xingxuan's icy fingers brushed over the crimson plum blossom in the porcelain vase, his fingertips pausing slightly on the petals covered with a thin layer of snow.

He turned his head to the side, the candlelight casting interplay of light and shadow on his pale face, a thin veil of icy irony playing on his lips.

"Back then, she had a persistent high fever and was on the verge of death, but I personally used gold needles to treat her acupoints and used medicine to keep her alive."

Are you questioning my medical skills?

His voice was not loud, but every word was clear, carrying a unique authority of a doctor.

"How could I not know whether she's suffered brain damage or not?"

His eyelashes lowered, his gaze sweeping almost imperceptibly over Tang Xixue's serene profile, before he added a soft, almost breathless remark, laced with undisguised malice:

"Perhaps, I was never really smart to begin with."

This is already a vicious personal attack.