After autumn set in, fallen leaves lay scattered inside and outside the pavilions and halls of the Imperial Academy—slightly curled blades, short rigid stems, a profusion of green, red, brown, and yellow.
Inside, the halls were bright and the desks spotless, where one could raise a sleeve without touching dust.
Meng Tinghui sat behind her desk, before which nearly a zhang-high pile of scrolls and volumes made her appear even more petite.
Most of these books were old records from the previous dynasty, some already dilapidated, their spines and thread-bound corners coming loose.
Head bowed, she read carefully, her wide official sleeves tied up at her arms, a purple brush in her fingers swiftly making notes on the booklet before her.
Earlier in the year, the Emperor had issued an edict ordering Fang Huai, Grand Academician of the Imperial Academy, to lead the Academician Drafters, Compilers, and editors in compiling historical records of the previous dynasty.
This assignment was coveted by countless compilers in the Imperial Academy. Many young scholars who had served for three or four years had not been selected by Fang Huai, yet she, with the Crown Prince’s handwritten decree, had easily entered the Compilation and Review Office east of the second hall of the Imperial Academy. Thus, she worked diligently, careful not to make the slightest mistake, fearing she might lose the position she had worked so hard to obtain.
Though Fang Huai was not as strict as Zhang Ren, his temperament was aloof. His exceptional talent and profound knowledge earned him the respect and admiration of many Academician Drafters. Now that she was working under him, even if her task was only the tedious job of assisting in compiling local records, it was enough to let her breathe a little easier within the Imperial Academy.
Outside, the autumn sun was gentle, the breeze slightly cool, drifting through the window lattice and lightly lifting the papers spread before her.
She raised a hand to press them down and looked out the window.
The stray hairs at her forehead were tousled by the wind, her eyes reflecting the autumn scenery outside, a slight curve at the corners of her lips.
For better or worse, she was sitting here now.
Since she was sitting here, no one would drive her away—unless... she herself wished to leave.
Just as she was about to turn back, she suddenly noticed a female official approaching from outside, her skirts fluttering as she entered.
As Meng Tinghui rose, Shen Zhili’s head peeked in from behind the door. Meng Tinghui couldn’t help but smile slightly and said, “What wind has blown you here?”
Shen Zhili glanced around the empty Compilation and Review Office, then boldly strode to her desk, looking down at the pile of scrolls before her. “What, haven’t you had time to eat all day?”
Meng Tinghui nodded, reaching to gather the spread-out, tattered historical records, squinting with a smile. “Lord Shen, this is overstepping.”
Shen Zhili let out a soft “tsk,” glancing at her. “My father’s unofficial histories were truly masterful. I grew up listening to tales of the previous dynasty as bedtime stories. Who would want to read these old records in front of you?”
Meng Tinghui pressed her lips together without a word, only tidying the books and scrolls neatly before asking, “What brings you here?”
Shen Zhili pulled a small packet of Palace Cakes from her sleeve and tossed it onto the desk. “Lord Meng, you should eat something first. If you starve yourself, how will you write history?”
Meng Tinghui couldn’t hold back a laugh, knowing she was annoyed with her, and said nothing more, picking up a cake to nibble on.
Shen Zhili remained silent for a while but eventually couldn’t hold back and asked, “This morning in the Great Within, I saw the inner court attendants writing yellow slips for the officials going to the North Garden for riding and archery. Why didn’t I see your name?”
Meng Tinghui finished half a Palace Cake unhurriedly, brushed her fingertips over the corner of her lips, and said softly, “Why would I go to the North Garden to watch riding and archery?”Shen Zhili raised an eyebrow, her expression clearly dismissive. "How many female officials in the court don't look forward to this annual North Garden mounted archery ceremony? Yet you're the only one unwilling to attend?"
Meng Tinghui couldn't help but smile wryly, pointing at the pile of books nearly ten feet high on her desk. "Haven't you seen this? The tasks Scholar Fang assigned me are anything but easy. I haven't been getting enough sleep lately—how could I possibly spare any thought for mounted archery?" She rewrapped the half-eaten Palace Cake and continued, "Firstly, I don't know how to ride or shoot. Secondly, I have no interest in the imperial guards of the Forbidden Palace or the officers of the capital garrison troops. Why should I waste my time watching that ridiculous ceremony?"
Shen Zhili curved her lips into a smile. "The Crown Prince will be attending as well. He's sure to compete with the military officers in mounted archery—still no interest?"
Meng Tinghui's eyelashes fluttered slightly, surprised by her words.
It had been nearly four months since she last saw him.
Since that night she left the Eastern Palace and returned to the Imperial Academy the next day, she hadn't had another chance to meet him.
He must be angry with her.
Otherwise, why during these four months—despite frequently summoning officials to draft edicts, allowing many Compilers the privilege of observing scholars discussing edict preparation with the Crown Prince at night—had he specifically excluded her?
She had known he would react this way, but she wasn't someone who sought momentary pleasure.
There were too many things she desired in her heart. Who could truly understand what she ultimately sought through all her actions?
Shen Zhili watched her intently from the side.
She chuckled lightly, smoothing the stray hairs by her ear as she collected herself and replied, "In that case, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to go and see."
Shen Zhili smiled mysteriously. "I never asked you—why did you only stay one day at the Eastern Palace before returning to the Imperial Academy?"
Meng Tinghui looked up, feigning surprise. "Didn't I just follow your suggestion? I complained to the Crown Prince that the veteran officials at the Imperial Academy looked down on working with women. In his anger, he sent me back. When Scholar Zhang saw the Crown Prince's handwritten order, however displeased he was, he couldn't voice his complaints.Shen Zhili studied her for a moment, her expression subtle, but didn't press further. Instead, she stepped back to look Meng Tinghui over and said, "I suppose you don't have riding attire. Why don't I send you one of my old sets tomorrow? That way you won't need to buy new clothes just for the ceremony."
Meng Tinghui simply smiled, too weary for false courtesy, and replied bluntly, "Thank you."
Riding attire...
Her mind flashed to that day when he wore light armor, sitting tall on his horse, drenched in sweat.
She unconsciously bit her lip, smiling.
·
On the eighth day of the tenth month in the twenty-fourth year of Qiande, the area within several dozen yards of Precious Ford Tower in the suburban North Garden was bustling with noise and excitement. Colorful flags fluttered in the wind, while various military performances unfolded below the tower. The vast open ground was filled with long-maned steeds, and willow-strip targets stood erected around the arena.
All civil and military officials from the capital had gathered. The men were eager to participate, while the women were thrilled to watch. Besides the female court officials, many noble young ladies from prestigious families in the capital had taken seats in the nearby corridors to witness this grand and magnificent mounted archery ceremony.
The North Garden was originally built by Prince Ping for the Emperor. Because the Emperor missed the scenery of the old capital's West Garden, Prince Ping specifically selected land in the northern suburbs after the new capital was completed and had it constructed into a palace garden identical to the former West Garden of Suiyang.Since the completion of the North Garden in the fifth year of Qiande, Prince Ping had annually presided over the mounted archery ceremony here, competing in equestrian and archery skills with his officials. However, after the Crown Prince began participating in court governance at the age of fourteen, the responsibility for hosting the North Garden mounted archery ceremony was transferred to the Crown Prince, with Prince Ping no longer involved.
Most female officials in the court served in institutions like the Court of Imperial Entertainments or the Court of State Ceremonial, where they seldom had opportunities to encounter the young officers of the capital garrisons. Thus, they eagerly anticipated the mounted archery ceremony, hoping to chance upon an ideal husband on the day of the event at North Garden, so they could resign from their posts and marry.
Meng Tinghui stood among the large group of female officials, her gaze not fixed on the clusters of young, valiant officers like the others, but instead directed toward the figure seated high up in the Precious Ford Tower in the distance.
From such a distance, she could not clearly see his face, yet her memory was so vivid that the mere sight of that profoundly black riding robe was enough for her to mentally sketch the contours of his eyes, lips, nose, and mouth.
So handsome.
So imposing.
So... utterly captivating to her heart.
Suddenly, three sharp whistles of arrows sounded from afar, as several riders galloped forth. The leader, clad in dazzling silver armor, stood out strikingly under the clear sky and brilliant sun.
The women beside her grew excited at once, jostling forward in a rush. Someone whispered excitedly, "It’s Colonel Di from the Divine Guard Army!"
"Which one? Which one?" the clustered female officials clamored, eager to catch a glimpse.
The one who had spoken earlier added, "The one at the very front! I heard from my cousin that the Crown Prince specifically summoned him back from the Divine Guard Army for this mounted archery ceremony. Colonel Di must be exceptionally skilled in horsemanship!"
Hearing this, Meng Tinghui grew curious and lifted her gaze to follow the crowd’s line of sight.
The man on horseback smiled radiantly, his face lean and defined. Gripping a long spear, he sped straight past the crowd at the edge of the field, then bowed slightly toward a woman standing on the other side.
Her curiosity piqued, Meng Tinghui leaned forward to look and saw that the woman was none other than Shen Zhili. In the next moment, she heard Shen Zhili’s voice, tinged with both embarrassment and indignation: "You rascal, Di Nian! How dare you grow so bold these days!"
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