Chapter 270: Always Following His Highness

Chapter 270: Ever at His Highness’s Side

Lu Yao raised his eyes to the window frame, where the night sky pressed close outside.

The moonlight, silken, pierced through the thin paper of the window, casting its glow on his chiseled, icy features—like mountains half-veiled in mist and rain.

"She is not just strong-willed but ruthless when needed," Shu Yuan said as he fixed his fake beard, then set the bronze mirror down with a sigh.

Lu Mingchao clearly had the bearing of someone who could hold her own against the world.

Yet Lu Yao kept worrying that her kindness made her vulnerable.

"Perhaps she has already turned the Yongning Marquis’s household on its head."

"Rather than borrowing trouble, you should steady your thoughts and consider how to handle Headmaster Yu's challenges."

"Only with Headmaster Yu’s protection, after acing the provincial exams and entering the capital, will you truly have the strength to defend yourself. By then, noble and official families won’t dare to drag you into marriage or plot against or belittle you freely."

"The stronger you are, the more she will flourish like a fish in water or a winged tiger."

Lu Yao lowered his gaze and said solemnly, "Headmaster Yu appears suspicious."

Shu Yuan gave a bitter smile. "Headmaster Yu will only assume you had me as a mentor when you were young."

The world knew that after the former Emperor’s sudden death, he’d willingly joined him in death.

He had brought shame upon scholars—his teacher and classmates all saw him as a disgrace.

Shu Yuan, once famed throughout the realm for his extraordinary talent, who boasted of possessing eight-tenths of the world’s literary brilliance, was dead!

"Don’t worry. Headmaster Yu must have taken a liking to your talent—that’s why he’s putting you through these trials."

"I’m tired. I’ll go rest first."

Shu Yuan stood up, pushed open the door, and left without hesitation.

The spring-laden night breeze gently slipped inside, tugging at his robe’s hem and brushing through his ink-black hair.

Shu Yuan felt something uncoiling in his chest.

Did his teacher still remember him?

Hope warred with dread.

Back then, he had been the youngest disciple under his teacher’s guidance.

His teacher would tirelessly praise his rare genius, saying his writing brimmed with spirit, but would also patiently warn him that "the stiffest tree breaks first" and "great wit drives to madness," urging him to temper his sharp edges and remain humble.

"A tree that stands tall above the forest will be felled by the wind; a bank that juts out will be eroded by the current."

In his youthful arrogance, he had sung and drunk freely with the young Crown Prince, roaming side by side, unrestrained in their boldness.

That young Crown Prince ascended the throne at the age of twenty.

At some point, the one who had once shared his ideals and aspirations began to harbor a different kind of desire—an obsession that could not be erased.

Obsession, like wildfire, easily drives one to madness.

Especially when that person was an emperor whose very breath commanded absolute power.

The emperor's reckless behavior, born of obsessive longing, was a disaster for the realm.

The renowned scholars of the world, like bamboo and cypress - they may break but never bend.

If word spread, it would plunge the court into chaos, and public sentiment would turn against them.

He had no choice but to soil his own reputation to preserve the greater good.

Shu Yuan, in the blink of an eye, became Chief Eunuch Shu.

Shunned by all who once respected him.

He still remembered the time they inspired the troops at the northern frontier amid a heavy snowfall, the world blanketed in white.

Drunk, the crown prince tossed aside his simple oiled-paper parasol, eyes bright as he asked, "Shu Yuan, would you accompany me awhile and admire the snow?"

Snow dusted the prince’s dark locks with white.

In that moment, he missed the tenderness in the prince’s gaze, nor did he grasp the deeper meaning behind his words.

He replied, "Shu Yuan will always follow Your Highness."

"Through all storms and seasons."

He had imagined a future where the prince would reign as sovereign and he would serve as minister—a sovereign and minister in perfect accord.

Where his lord's glance fell, his sword would follow.

Together, they would stand side by side to usher in an era of prosperity.

Looking back now, it was all but a dream.

He awoke to a world where everything had changed.

He and his prince, lay together yet dreamed apart.

Yet, it could not be denied—they had truly known the fiery passion of youth.

They locked in battles of wit over chessboards.

They spoke their minds freely through the night.

They debated and disagreed, only to share quiet smiles of understanding.

The prince in his memories had indeed burned as bright as the constellations.

The eldest son of Emperor Wencheng was, by every law and custom, the undisputed rightful heir.

He honored scholars, showed measured kindness, was principled yet decisive.

Worthy of the saying that the crown prince is the foundation of the state, the living embodiment of its traditions.

Yet, his very existence became a crack in the very bedrock of the state, a blemish upon that vessel.

He resented the prince’s impossible expectations, yet he believed in his ability to govern.

Thus, after the prince ascended the throne, caught between imperial dignity and personal honor, he chose to offer himself as the necessary sacrifice.

He had been the seducer, the clinging vine—became the emperor’s fatal corruption.

The literati of the realm scorn and revile him, believing they may cleanse the imperial court but never oppose the sovereign.

He thought, if the crown prince could become a wise ruler, bringing peace and order to the realm, it would all be worth it.

For years, the young emperor lived up to his expectations—devoted to statecraft, rising early and retiring late, keeping worthy ministers near and sycophants far.

Yet, the emperor who boldly reformed and eradicated corruption was cut down in his prime.

He died at the peak of his wisdom, capability, and vigor.

With the emperor's death, his hopes perished as well.

He knew, the moment he [eunuch] entered the palace, an obsession took hold of him.

He anchored his broken body and repressed soul to the emperor, to the emperor's grand designs.

As long as the emperor's achievements shone like the sun and moon, their light upon him would make him still seem like that brilliant talent, Shu Yuan!

Perhaps his mentor would forgive his arrogance and defiance.

With a smile, he might pat his shoulder and say, "My disciple, heaven's favored son."

The emperor was dead.

His obsession then morphed into vengeance for the emperor.

In truth, he knew—Shu Yuan was no longer Shu Yuan.

"Shu Yuan."

Lu Yao suddenly spoke.

His clear voice was like tossing a lifeline to Shu Yuan, mired in memories, allowing him to surface and gasp for air.

"Do you truly think I don’t know? Ever since leaving Changxi Village, you’ve lain awake night after night, sitting by candlelight, scrubbing off your disguise before the mirror only to paint it back on over and over."

"If you long to see him, why not come with me tomorrow to call on Headmaster Yu?"

"Even if he doesn’t recognize you, it might still calm your troubled mind."

In an instant, Shu Yuan jumped like a scalded cat.

He bolted upright, stammering, "No."

"Quit pestering me. With you gone, I’ll finally have some peace."

Lu Yao didn't miss a beat. "The graveyard is the quietest place—only gets visitors during Grave-Sweeping and Spirit Festivals. Want to go?"

Shu Yuan: "..."

Shu Yuan fixed him with a baleful stare.

"Lu Santu, have some respect for your elders!"

Lu Yao didn't bat an eye. "Are you going or not?"

Shu Yuan gaped. "You really want me to go to the graveyard?"

Lu Yao’s eye twitched. "To visit Headmaster Yu."

Shu Yuan scratched his head and fidgeted, itching like he had fleas. "Alright, just a quick meet-up then."

"Just say... I'm your family's old servant."

Lu Yao: "..."

Lu Yao gave Shu Yuan a withering look before burying himself in his desk again, poring over the difficult assignments set by Headmaster Yu.

There was one thing Shu Yuan was right about.

Only by becoming stronger could he support Mingchao.

Headmaster Yu was a leading figure for scholars across the land.

He needed Headmaster Yu's prestige and influence.

The night gradually passed, and the sky began to lighten at dawn.

Officials trickling in for morning court all saw Princess Lerong kneeling outside the palace gates.

Her personal maid read aloud in clear, measured tones the letter of apology that the princess had copied overnight, ensuring every word reached the ears of the officials waiting for morning court.

Yongning Marquis broke into a cold sweat, utterly speechless.

Was this a letter of apology?

This was nothing less than metaphorically flogging his corpse in public.

Having stayed awake all night, Yongning Marquis was completely exhausted, almost passing out right there.

The shock came too suddenly.