The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

As dusk settled, the outline of the Lintai Palace appeared as a snow-white silhouette against the leaden sky.

When Pei Yanchuan stepped onto the long white jade bridge leading back to Plum Garden, his steps were much lighter than usual.

The cold wind blew his wide sleeves, and his clothes fluttered like clouds.

He specially changed into a moon-white scholar's robe today.

The fabric was ordinary fine cotton, but it was starched and washed until it was crisp, white, and spotless.

A matching silk sash was tied around her waist, with simple tassels hanging down.

The most eye-catching feature is her hair, where a fine white jade hair crown neatly holds up her dark hair. The crown is warm and smooth, with a subtle luster like mutton fat.

This was the reward personally awarded by the school official when I came out on top in the ten-day exam.

Two strands of snow-white hair ribbons hung down from behind his crown, fluttering gently in the wind, further highlighting his handsome features and refined demeanor, like the first ray of moonlight shining on green bamboo after a snowfall.

This outfit was chosen after much deliberation.

He examined the few clothes in the trunk for a long time, turning them over and over.

He ultimately chose this white outfit, not only because it was the most respectable one he had ever worn, but also because the color reminded him of that person—

With an icy beauty and jade-like bones, pure and pristine, like the first snow that never melts on a mountain peak, untouched by dust.

He wanted her to see the best version of himself.

Even if this is good, it might be insignificant in the eyes of those wealthy and powerful families.

With this secret expectation in my heart, even the winter wind seemed less biting.

He clutched the bundle of books carefully wrapped in blue cloth to his chest, hurrying along, wanting only to return to the Plum Garden as soon as possible to hide the books away.

"Oh, isn't this our talented Pei?"

A flippant and sarcastic voice suddenly came from ahead, interrupting Pei Yanchuan's thoughts.

At the other end of the white jade bridge, seven or eight elegantly dressed young men had gathered.

Leading the group was Xu Manshan, the heir of the Marquis of Anping, dressed in a royal blue brocade robe with gold trim, a jade ring at his waist, and playing with an ivory folding fan in his hand, which looked particularly out of place in the cold winter.

Standing beside him was Han Yue, the heir of the Duke of Zhenguo, whose expression was calmer, but whose eyes also held a condescending gaze.

The others were also sons of noble families, dressed in fine clothes and exuding an air of arrogance. Among them was Zhao Lingjun, the son of Censor Zhao.

They had clearly just finished a party, still smelling of alcohol, and were blocking the bridgehead, looking over with half-smiles.

Pei Yanchuan paused, the lighthearted warmth in his heart instantly cooling down.

He lowered his eyes, stepped aside to the bridge railing, and made way for them, his intention clear—to let them go first.

He didn't want to cause trouble, and even less did he want to drag that noble prince into trouble for no reason because of himself.

The first principle for survival for children from poor families is to endure hardship.

However, yielding did not result in passage.

"Why are you in such a hurry?"

Xu Manshan stepped forward, blocking his path. His gaze fell on the blue cloth bundle tightly held in his arms, a hint of mockery flashing across his face.

"What treasure is Young Master Pei holding in his arms? Let the classmates see for themselves!"

As he spoke, he reached out to snatch it.

Pei Yanchuan tightened his grip on the book, holding it firmly to his chest, and took a half step back, his voice cold and clear:

"Young Master Xu, this is a private item and should not be shown to others."

"Personal belongings?"

Xu Manshan raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

"What extraordinary possessions could a poor boy possibly have? Don't push your luck."

His tone turned cold, and several teenagers gathered around him, forming a pincer movement.

Han Yue, who had been silent all along, frowned, gestured to stop Xu Manshan, and whispered:

"Zi'an, don't act impulsively. Remember the example of that person from the Xiao family."

He was referring to Xiao Yao, the son of the Minister of War, who was severely punished for offending Tang Xixue and received extra care from Feng Zhuo on his way home.

"That little tyrant from the Feng family is not one to reason with people."

Upon hearing Feng Zhuo's name, Xu Manshan's arrogant demeanor faltered slightly, and a hint of apprehension flashed in his eyes.

He withdrew his hand that was about to snatch it, but still wouldn't give up. His eyes darted around, and he smiled at the people beside him:

"If we're not going to make a move, then we won't. Brother Han is right, we are civilized people."

He turned to Pei Yanchuan, a wicked smile curving his lips.

"However, there's nothing wrong with classmates appreciating books together, isn't there? Young Master Pei, why are you hiding these things like this? Could it be... something you're ashamed to share?"

He gave a wink, and Zhao Lingjun and the other two boys understood. They stepped forward with smiles and tried to pull at the package in Pei Yanchuan's arms.

"Young Master Xu, please have some self-respect!"

Pei Yanchuan said sternly, clutching the book tightly, his back pressed against the cold white marble bridge railing.

The boys pushed and shoved, and he was outnumbered.

Xu Manshan suddenly reached out and pushed.

Caught off guard, Pei Yanchuan lost his balance due to the inertia of leaning forward and fell backward.

"Splash—!"

A bone-chilling cold instantly enveloped everything from all directions, silencing all sound.

He fell into the cold lake below the bridge, which was not completely frozen.

The icy lake water felt like countless fine needles, piercing through my thin clothes, digging deep into my skin, and reaching my very bones.

The air in his lungs was forced out, he choked on water, coughed violently, and his vision went black.

What terrified him even more was—those books! The books he was desperately protecting!

They were scattered on the water's surface, the ink spreading rapidly in the cold water, the paper absorbing the water, becoming heavy and mushy, and sinking one by one.

He struggled to lunge forward, trying in vain to grab a book, but all his fingertips touched was the rapidly melting and disintegrating pulp.

All the books vanished before his eyes.

"Hahaha! Look! Doesn't it look like a drowning dog?" came the undisguised mockery from the bridge.

"Like master, like dog! Utterly pathetic!"

"Who told his master to be so blind as to dare bully Miss Yunhua? He deserves it!"

"Let's go, let's go, it's boring, I'm freezing."

The laughter gradually faded into the distance, and the footsteps disappeared on the other side of the bridge.

No one cared whether he could swim or survive in the icy lake.

Pei Yanchuan floated in the icy water, his face as pale as paper.

The lake water reached his waist, and the chill seeped into his limbs and bones.

He stared at his empty hands, then at the paper scraps sinking into the lake, and his eyes suddenly reddened.

It wasn't because of the biting cold, nor because of those vicious words, but because...

Those were the books he bought after scrimping and saving and mustering up his courage.

It was his clumsy, insignificant attempt to get closer to that icy, snow-like person.

He just... just didn't want to appear naive and clueless in front of her; he just wanted to... make her happy.

But that tiny glimmer of hope was easily and cruelly crushed right before his eyes.

He eventually swam back to shore on his own.

When she climbed ashore, her pale white clothes were already soaked through, clinging tightly to her body, with icy water constantly dripping down.

The hair ornament was askew, and the jade color was stained with mud and water.

The carefully groomed appearance, the best look I wanted to present to her, was now nothing but a mess and a sorry state.

He hugged his trembling arms and walked back to the Plum Courtyard step by step in silence.

They were careful not to disturb their sick mother and young sister.

There is no hot water in the room.

He drew cold well water and used a cloth to wipe his body repeatedly until his skin turned red.

The movements are mechanical and stubborn.

However, the white dress he cherished and thought best suited her was now soaked through.

He opened the old, peeling wooden box at the foot of the bed, inside which were a few neatly folded pieces of clothing.

Her fingertips hovered over the two remaining school uniforms.

One set was a worn, pale blue color, faded somewhat from washing;

The other set was a slightly newer dark blue, with worn cuffs.

He picked up the pale blue robe and compared it to the bronze mirror.

The boy in the mirror had lips that were purple from the cold, slightly red eyes, and wet hair that clung messily to his forehead.

The clear and handsome appearance of moments before was long gone, leaving only endless fatigue and... lingering grievances.

He eventually put on the worn-out, pale blue school uniform in silence.

The fabric was rough and the color was dull.

After getting dressed, he sat on the cold edge of the bed, gazing at the completely dark night sky outside the window and the long icicles that had formed under the eaves.

His arms were empty; all the books had been destroyed.

The carefully prepared white coat also vanished into thin air.

It seems like he has nothing.

The boy hugged his knees tightly and buried his face in his arms.

The night was as dark as ink, swallowing the humble lamplight in this corner of the plum garden, as well as the silent, spreading, icy dampness.

His beloved was born as a precious and noble beauty, so pure and radiant that he could only gaze at her from afar, never daring to presume.

"How could someone like me... be worthy of Your Highness..."