The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

"Then Zhizhi will feed the Emperor."

Tang Xixue sat down beside Tang Xiye and naturally picked up the bowl of still-steaming porridge in front of him.

She picked up the silver spoon, gently scooped up a spoonful, blew on the rising steam, and then brought it to his lips.

The movements were fluid and graceful, as if they had been done a thousand times.

Tang Xiye looked down at her.

Looking at her lowered eyelashes, and at her focused and gentle expression.

His gaze was fixed on her rosy lips.

That touch of red, so vibrant and flamboyant, was like a crabapple blossom in early spring, dazzling and incomparable in its beauty.

He was so engrossed in watching it that he became quite absorbed.

"Yin'er".

Empress Dowager Bai Yining, sitting in the main seat, finally couldn't help but speak.

She put down her teacup, her tone tinged with helplessness and scrutiny:

"When did you become a three-year-old child who needs to be fed by knitting? Your other hand isn't broken."

Upon hearing this, Tang Xiye's eyes flickered slightly.

He glanced down at his perfectly intact left hand.

But he just didn't want her to leave.

He just wanted her hand to linger for him a little longer.

"Yes, Zhizhi."

He spoke, his voice deep and magnetic, carrying a hint of contented languor:

"I will do it myself."

Even so, his gaze subtly swept towards the corner of the hall.

The gaze swept towards the Imperial Guard Commander, who was trying to shrink himself into a ball, wishing he could disappear on the spot.

Shen Cuo met that gaze and felt a chill run down his spine.

There were no words in his gaze, yet it clearly conveyed four words:

Get on track. Hurry up.

Shen Cuo took a deep breath and steeled himself as he walked toward the dining table.

He picked up the bowl of osmanthus-flavored rice wine with small glutinous rice balls in front of the Imperial Preceptor He Lichen.

That was specially prepared by the Empress Dowager for Tang Xixue. It was soft, sticky, and sweet, and was currently sitting steaming hot next to He Lichen.

Shen Cuo kept his eyes straight ahead, steadily holding the bowl of small glutinous rice balls in both hands, and placed it neatly on the table next to Tang Xiye, passing through the eerie atmosphere of the room.

My seat was right next to Tang Xixue's.

He Lichen sat in the same spot, his face still cold and aloof, his features still sparse and distant like misty mountains.

He didn't say anything, and didn't even glance at Shen Cuo.

However, the air pressure around him was noticeably lower.

Tang Xiye's lips curled up slightly, and for some reason, she was in an exceptionally good mood.

His Zhizhi, it seems, really cares about him.

Even He Lichen cannot compare to his position in Zhizhi's heart.

He picked up the bowl of small glutinous rice balls and placed it in front of Tang Xixue:

"Zhizhi, eat it while it's hot."

"it is good."

Tang Xixue lowered her head, scooped up a soft and glutinous little glutinous rice ball, and put it in her mouth.

Sweet.

It's warm.

Really delicious.

As He Lichen watched her eat with sparkling eyes, the melancholy in his eyes quietly melted away.

He picked up the bowl of porridge in front of him, lowered his eyes, and did not move.

Tang Xiye's gaze fell on him.

"Huai Xian".

He spoke, his tone tinged with concern—but beneath that concern lay a sharp blade:

"Why aren't you eating?"

He paused, his tone becoming even gentler:

"Don't you like it?"

Tang Xixue was eating glutinous rice balls when she heard this, so she looked up and looked at He Lichen.

His eyes, as bright as the Milky Way, were filled with pure concern.

"Brother Huaixian, is it not to your liking?"

He Lichen raised her eyes.

He first glanced at Tang Xiye, a brief glance that sparked a silent exchange between them.

Then, he looked at Tang Xixue, the frost in his eyes turning into a gentle tenderness:

"The tea flavor is a bit too strong."

He said lightly.

Tang Xixue almost burst out laughing upon hearing this.

She bit her spoon, trying desperately to suppress her laughter, but her curved eyebrows and eyes had already betrayed her.

The tea flavor was a bit too strong.

Isn't it just about the tea aroma in Tangxi Night Tea?

Tang Xiye sat there, her hand holding the silver spoon pausing slightly.

He lowered his eyes, concealing the momentary stiffness, and when he looked up again, his expression was calm and composed.

"The Imperial Advisor truly lives up to his reputation as someone who resides within the Eight Trigrams Formation."

"This hermaphrodite's skills are truly superb."

Shen Cuo stood at the corner of the hall, feeling a chill run down his spine.

He quietly raised his sleeve and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

This—this chaotic scene—is terrifying!

Empress Dowager Bai Yining sat upright in the main seat, watching the undercurrents of confrontation between her son and the Imperial Preceptor, and assumed it was just her brother's possessiveness at play.

She suddenly chuckled softly.

The laughter was faint, as faint as the soft call someone made in her ear many years ago when the camellias fell—

"Rustling sound".

"It seems that Yin'er has taken after me."

She murmured, the curve of her lips carrying a profound meaning.

Her fiercely competitive son turned out to be nothing like his biological father.

That person—

Its name is Tangxi Qingyuan.

The words are not stained.

Born in the deep palace and raised in a wealthy family, he was born with a detached and indifferent heart.

He was not interested in power or weapons from a young age, but loved music, books, poetry and painting. Yet he never neglected his studies and was a qualified crown prince.

As the eldest son of the Crown Prince, he treated people with gentle grace and without any arrogance.

He was gentle and tolerant towards everyone, as if all the things in this world were nothing but fleeting clouds to him.

Bai Yining remembers.

I remember that boy standing between the autumn waters and the vast sky.

Her clothes fluttered in the breeze, her eyes were clear, and a faint smile played on her lips.

That was the unforgettable white moonlight that countless people could never forget upon first sight, and the name that countless young ladies of the capital hid deep in the depths of their poems.

He was clearly the eldest son of the legitimate heir apparent, the rightful master of the Eastern Palace, yet he was schemed against step by step by his ambitious younger brother, losing his position and falling from grace.

But no matter who becomes the crown prince, the only crown princess will always be Bai Yining.

The eldest daughter of the prestigious Bai family—this was her destiny, written from birth.

She knew she would eventually become the Crown Princess.

It's just unknown which prince it is.

She had always thought it would be him.

Looking back now, the years she spent studying in Lintai were the purest time of her life.

The sky was blue, the clouds were light, and the wind always carried the fragrance of flowers.

"Your Highness, my name is Bai Yining, and my nickname is Susu."

Beneath the white camellia tree, petals fell all over her shoulders. She shook them off gently and asked with a smile:

"Can you hear it? Spring is resounding."

"Mmm. I heard you, rustling."

He smiled gently, a smile warmer than the spring breeze.

"You can call me—Bu Ran."

In the classroom, she sat in the back row, and he sat in the front row.

Separated from a room full of classmates, from layers upon layers of books and ink, she gazed at his back for three whole years.

He never crosses the line.

They guarded an invisible line, never crossing it even half a step.

But she knew that he liked her very much.

How could she not understand the tenderness hidden in the details?

On the page she turned, there was an extra line of annotation that had appeared out of nowhere.

It was his handwriting, elegant as he was, expressing his insights on that passage.

She looked up at the figure sitting upright in the front row.

He didn't turn around, but the hand holding the book tightened slightly.

Her lost handkerchief was quietly picked up, folded neatly, and placed on her desk.

The handkerchief carried a faint, almost imperceptible fragrance, like the scent of flowers in the morning mist, or the breeze stirred by his robes as he passed by.

Occasionally, a white camellia will appear on her desk.

Snow-white as jade, as pure as his own, blooming in its prime, adorned with the morning dew.

She knew it was him who put it there.

Because in the entire Lintai, only he would remember that she loved white camellias the most.

On the corner of her desk, there was now a purple glass pen holder.

The mountain was exquisitely crafted, carved with camellia patterns, and shimmered with a warm luster in the sunlight.

She asked him if he had given it to her. He just smiled slightly, neither admitting nor denying it.

She knew it was him.

Because she had once encountered him outside the palace, entering a jade shop.

She was just passing by that day when she caught a glimpse of his back across the street.

She assumed he was going to buy some rare or ancient book, so she didn't pay any attention.

She later learned that he had gone to that shop that day to retrieve the brush holder.

He personally drew up the blueprints and hired the best craftsmen in the capital, working on it for three whole months.

Three months.

He went in and out of that shop countless times, just to confirm whether the camellia pattern was lifelike and whether the glass had a warm and smooth texture.

And she knew nothing.

She would come to her desk every morning and see the writing brush lying there quietly, like his gaze falling on her heart.

It is gentle and quiet, yet it has always been there.

He knows.

The Crown Prince is to marry the eldest daughter of the Bai family as his principal wife.

He had already decided that she was his wife.

So he waited.

Waiting for the moon to shine and the years to pass, waiting for the stars and frost to fade away.

He would wait until they grew up, until they got married, until he could rightfully welcome her into the Eastern Palace.

He waited with peace of mind.

Because he believed that nothing in this world could change that.

But what he got in return was—

It was that big red sedan chair.

They were carried from the Bai residence into the Eastern Palace.

But that Eastern Palace was no longer his Eastern Palace.

He has a soft heart.

He was excessively lenient with his younger brothers, possessing a compassionate heart but lacking the decisiveness to achieve his goals. Ultimately, he was outmaneuvered and lost everything.

The victor stood arrogantly atop the imperial steps.

"Your Majesty, the struggle for the crown prince position has always been like this. If I win by half a point, you lose the whole game."

"Do you know how long I've waited for this day? Since childhood, you've been better than me in everything—riding, archery, writing, strategy—and now? You're kneeling, and I'm standing."

"I, your younger brother, will gladly accept the position of Crown Prince."

"Oh, right, and also—the beautiful and charming eldest daughter of the Bai family. From now on, she will be mine too."

"If he were to ascend the throne one day, his first decree would be to give his brothers a grand funeral."

He didn't feel resentful at losing the position of crown prince.

When Bai Yining heard about it, she just thought to herself: After all, she is someone who doesn't fight for anything.

She did not see him that day.

She was draped in a bright red veil and helped into a sedan chair, where she was taken to the palace that belonged to the new crown prince.

She didn't know where he was.

She found out later.

That person who never showed envy sat in the teahouse at the end of the long street that day.

He chose a seat by the window and ordered the strongest liquor.

Then he watched as the large red sedan chair departed from the Bai residence, passed through the long street, and headed east.

He watched the sedan chair grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared behind the towering palaces.

He watched as she married someone else.

His eyes reddened.

She covered her face and wept uncontrollably.

I feel like my whole body is about to shatter.

He had already prepared everything for her.

There was a brocade quilt prepared for her, embroidered with her favorite camellias, every stitch of which was drawn by him.

There was a wooden comb made for her, with the thought of combing her hair and drawing her eyebrows by hand in the future.

The comb was made of the finest sandalwood, with closely spaced teeth, much like his unspoken affections.

There is a box of paintings he painted himself.

They all depict her—

The way she reads, the way she writes, the way she stands under the camellia tree, her smile as bright as the morning sun.

Each painting was done with great care, even the patterns on the jade hairpin in her hair were depicted perfectly.

There is a wedding dress.

Using the finest brocade and embroidered with the most intricate patterns, the designs were drawn by his own hand and took a whole year to complete.

The hem of the wedding dress was embroidered with camellias.

He imagined that on the day she walked into the East Palace in this wedding dress, she would be as beautiful as someone who had stepped out of a painting.

But what he got in return was that she wore a wedding dress prepared by someone else and married someone else.

His love was so subtle and gentle, like a spring breeze, yet extremely restrained, never willing to tarnish her reputation.

In fact, no one knew how much he loved her.

It was just a single line of annotation on the page she had turned.

He simply picked up a plain handkerchief for her as they passed each other.

The only difference was the addition of a purple glass brush holder on her desk.

There was only one white camellia that occasionally appeared on her table.

That's it.

He thought she would understand.

She did understand.

What good is it if you understand?

At that time, she was already the new Crown Princess.

He was merely a deposed crown prince who had lost his position, his beloved, and everything else.

She remembered the last time she saw him.

It was on the palace road.

She sat in the palanquin, and he stood by the roadside.

He was the deposed crown prince, and she was the new crown princess.

According to etiquette, he should kneel.

But he just stood there, gazing at her, gazing intently at her.

That glance was very long.

It looks like it wants to see all the things in this life that we didn't have time to do.

Then he lowered his eyes and stepped aside to move to the side of the road.

He didn't say anything.

As the palanquin passed by him, she saw his shoulder tremble slightly.

Just a slight touch.

Then things stabilized.

Like him.

Gentle, reserved, and never overstepping boundaries.

Even if your heart is broken, you must stand tall and straight.

Only occasionally, in the quiet of the night, would she think of the boy who stood in the teahouse, gazing at her sedan chair and weeping uncontrollably.

She would recall the wind at Lintai in those years, the fragrance of camellias, and the annotations he left on her pages.

She would recall the last time he looked at her, the unspoken words in that single glance.

Then she would chuckle softly.

It was very faint, as faint as a thin mist passing through the forest.

"Rustling sound".

She softly called out her own nickname.

No one answered.

Outside the window, camellias were falling.

Rustling, rustling.