The low-key prince summons trainees from the Imperial Household Department at the start of the game.

The peonies in the Imperial Garden are in full bloom.

In mid-April, a warm breeze blew across Taiye Pond, carrying the fragrance of flowers and moisture.

It feels soft and gentle on the face, like a hand gently scratching away weariness.

Zhou Xing was unusually in the mood to go out for a walk today.

Chunlan said that he had been cooped up in the side hall for too long these days, either reading or practicing calligraphy. Children should get more sunshine to grow taller.

She chattered on as she helped him change into his outdoor clothes, and then slipped a small plate of osmanthus cake into his hand.

Then, he and Qiuju, one on each side, accompanied him out the door.

The Ninth Prince's entourage was always modest, without any entourage or eunuchs to clear the way.

Two palace maids and a quiet young prince walked along the stone path in the Imperial Garden.

From a distance, they looked like a palace eunuch leading a palace maid out on an errand.

Zhou Xing, however, thoroughly enjoyed the peace and quiet.

He walked along, munching on osmanthus cake, occasionally stopping to look at the flowers and listen to the birdsong.

Chunlan chattered away beside him, introducing him to the names of various flowers.

Qiuju followed quietly behind, carrying a small bamboo basket, intending to collect some fallen flowers to make sachets.

As they approached the pavilion by Taiye Pond, Chunlan suddenly pointed to a patch of peonies blooming exceptionally profusely and exclaimed with delight, "Your Highness, look! These peonies are blooming even more beautifully than last year!"

He then quickened his pace, wanting to get a closer look.

Just then, a palm-sized blue swallowtail butterfly fluttered up from the flowers, its wings shimmering with a bright blue luster in the sunlight.

It glided leisurely past Chunlan's nose, less than three feet away.

Chunlan was only seventeen or eighteen years old and was quite playful. On a whim, she forgot her manners and chased after him, lifting the hem of her skirt.

He was shouting, "Don't run! Don't run!"

The butterfly flew at a moderate pace, bypassing the peony bushes, passing through a patch of low holly bushes, and finally fluttering its wings towards the pavilion.

When Chunlan caught up to the pavilion, she suddenly stopped, and the smile on her face froze instantly.

There are people in the pavilion.

A young woman dressed in a pale yellow palace gown was sitting idly by the railing, with a plate of newly tribute lychees from Lingnan beside her.

Two palace maids and two elderly nannies stood behind him.

The woman was in her early twenties and was strikingly beautiful.

Her eyes and brows carried a hint of arrogant disdain; she was none other than Consort Huang, who had recently risen to prominence in the palace.

Her father was the Vice Minister of Revenue, and her family was powerful. She was promoted from a low-ranking concubine to a Noble Lady in less than half a year after entering the palace.

Emperor Wu of Zhou doted on her, and even the Empress treated her with more kindness.

In the imperial harem, imperial favor is everything.

Consort Huang clearly understood this principle, so she looked at everyone with a somewhat condescending and nonchalant gaze.

Chunlan was so engrossed in chasing the butterflies that she couldn't stop in time and stumbled a couple of steps before regaining her balance.

She didn't bump into Consort Huang, but the gust of wind stirred up by the hem of her skirt startled the two old women in the pavilion.

One of the older women, a stout woman with dark skin, suddenly turned around and, without saying a word, slapped him hard across the face.

A crisp snap echoed far and wide in the quiet Imperial Garden.

Chunlan was so badly hit that she staggered two steps to the side, half of her face immediately became red and swollen, and a trace of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth.

She stood there, covering her face, her eyes instantly filled with tears, but she bit her lip tightly, not daring to cry out.

"Blind little hussy!" The old woman's voice was shrill and sharp, like a rusty pair of scissors scraping against glass. "A distinguished guest is here admiring the flowers, and who do you think you are, daring to approach him? If you offend such a distinguished guest, can you bear the consequences?!"

Chunlan knelt on the ground with a thud, trembling all over, unable to utter a complete sentence, only kowtowing repeatedly.

The old nanny, however, was relentless. Pointing at Chunlan's nose, she was about to continue her tirade when she suddenly caught sight of two people standing on the stone path not far away.

A boy of about nine years old was wearing a slightly worn blue robe, followed by a little palace maid carrying a bamboo basket.

The old nanny recognized him at a glance as the Ninth Prince, Zhou Xing, but instead of keeping quiet, she raised her voice even higher.

"Oh, isn't this His Highness the Ninth Prince? This servant greets Your Highness."

She offered her greetings but didn't even bend her back, merely giving a casual bow with a forced smile on her face. "Your Highness, please forgive me. It's not that this old servant is being rude, but this girl is just too ill-mannered."

"Her master's refined interest in appreciating flowers was disturbed by her startling behavior."

"In the end, it can't all be blamed on her; those who have no one to care for them are still those who have no one to care for them."

When she said the words "no one to take care of him," her gaze deliberately lingered on Zhou Xing, and the smile on her lips was sharp and sarcastic. "There's not even someone to properly teach him manners. If he offends someone important, won't he just become a laughingstock in the entire palace?"

Zhou Xing stood motionless on the stone path, his expression unchanged.

He didn't look at the chattering old nanny, nor at the disdainful Consort Huang in the pavilion, but instead glanced at Chunlan first.

Chunlan was kneeling on the ground, covering her face, biting her lip desperately to keep herself from crying out loud.

Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably, half of her cheek was swollen and marked with five clear finger marks.

When Zhou Xing withdrew his gaze, his fingers tightened slightly inside his sleeve, then slowly relaxed.

He didn't help Chunlan up, nor did he offer any explanation. He simply stood there quietly, as if waiting for someone.

Although Chunlan was just a palace maid, she was a maid who followed her master.

In this deep palace, he couldn't give her wealth and status, nor could he give her a powerful backer. At the very least, he couldn't let the person who followed him be humiliated and forced to kneel on the ground.

But he can't stand out.

He is the "timid and taciturn" Ninth Prince, and he cannot let his persona crumble at this moment.

So he stood there, motionless, only blinking once.

Qiu Ju, who had been silently following behind, suddenly turned around and ran back the way she came.

As soon as her figure disappeared around the corner of the passageway, a group of people emerged from the willow-lined embankment at the other end of Taiye Pond.

The leader, dressed in a scarlet eunuch's robe with a dark palace sash around his waist, was none other than Zhao Gao, a eunuch from the Directorate of Ceremonial.

He was followed by a dozen or so eunuchs, lined up in two rows, their steps perfectly synchronized.

Zhao Gao was walking at the front of the procession with a blank expression when he passed through the moon gate.

Just then, I overheard the old woman's sarcastic remark, "Those who are not raised are indeed those who are not raised."

Then he saw Zhou Xing in the center of the pavilion, and Chunlan kneeling on the ground covering her face, and his steps came to an abrupt halt.

The dozen or so eunuchs behind him stopped almost simultaneously, their steps halted as if by an invisible blade.

Zhao Gao's eyes turned cold.

Those eyes that were usually slightly lowered, making it impossible to discern their emotions.

He suddenly looked up, as if something deep within his pupils had been ignited.

Cold and bright, like two pieces of charcoal burned to their limit, not emitting flames, yet so hot that one dares not look directly at them.

But he didn't react immediately. He simply turned his wrist slightly in his sleeve, then turned his head slightly and whispered two words to a clever little eunuch beside him: "Go and invite him."

The young eunuch paused for a moment, then understood, turned around and quickly disappeared at the end of the willow embankment.

Zhao Gao straightened his sleeves and strode toward the pavilion.

His steps were neither fast nor slow, the hem of his scarlet official robe casting a straight shadow on the stone path.

The old woman in the pavilion was still chattering away when she suddenly heard a series of orderly footsteps behind her.