Time passed swiftly.
As the weather grew colder, the students of the Hall of Extensive Learning began preparing for the end-of-month Verification.
For the young men, it was a step toward entering officialdom. For the young women, it was an opportunity to showcase their talents, adding weight to their future marriage prospects or catching the eye of a suitable match.
This was an inevitable rite of passage for the children of noble families. Even pampered girls like Feng Anning had recently begun to study diligently. As for Shen Qing and Shen Yue, they were even more devoted—especially Shen Yue, who spent entire days in the eastern courtyard playing the qin and reciting poetry, hoping to steal the spotlight once again.
Both Shen Yue and Shen Qing were already fifteen, the age when families typically began arranging marriages. In Ming Qi, young women usually married at sixteen, with betrothals often settled at fifteen. The reason Shen Qing and Shen Yue remained unattached was simple: their standards were too high. They scorned ordinary matches, yet reaching for the highest echelons seemed presumptuous.
In truth, both families had set their sights on Prince Ding.
Of the late emperor’s nine sons, only the ninth—Prince Ding—remained unmarried. Barely past twenty, he was at the perfect age to take a wife. Yet, for various reasons, the position of his consort remained undecided. Like a coveted prize, Prince Ding would personally serve as an examiner at this Verification. Thus, many young ladies were sparing no effort, hoping to impress him and perhaps even win his heart at first sight.
Shen Miao, however, had no such thoughts.
Even in this second life, she remained indifferent to romance. She had no talent for poetry, music, or dance. She certainly couldn’t stand on stage and debate court affairs. More importantly, she had no desire to entangle herself with Prince Ding ever again.
In her past life, Prince Ding had exploited the Shen family, harmed her children, and slaughtered her entire household. That debt would be repaid in time. How could she possibly become his wife when their bond was one of blood and vengeance?
Feng Anning asked her, “Why aren’t you studying? The end of the month is approaching. If you end up at the bottom again, won’t you become a laughingstock?” After Shen Miao’s near-drowning incident, she had grown noticeably quieter. Feng Anning had thought she’d finally gained some sense, but now it seemed she was just as dull-witted as before.
Shen Miao replied, “Since I don’t understand anyway, why waste the effort?”
Yi Peilan, overhearing this, let out a mocking laugh. “Truly, you can’t polish a turd.”
Shen Yue and Shen Qing, who were chatting nearby, pretended not to hear and made no move to defend her. Lately, Shen Miao had stopped fawning over them as she once had, and their displeasure had grown. They were all too happy to watch her humiliate herself.
Yet Shen Miao acted as though Yi Peilan’s words had never reached her. She stood and said, “I’m going for a walk in the garden.”
After she left, Yi Peilan sneered, “Ran away because she had no retort. What a coward.”
“Have you said enough?” Feng Anning frowned. “Are your own studies so flawless?” She carried some authority in the second-year class, and her family doted on her. Unwilling to provoke her, Yi Peilan fell silent.
Meanwhile, Shen Miao strolled slowly through the garden.
The Hall of Extensive Learning was an elegant place, its garden adorned with lush bamboo groves, ponds, and artfully arranged rockeries. The fragrant air among the trees was refreshing to the spirit.
She simply wanted a moment of quiet solitude. The second-year students were still hot-blooded youths, but in her past life, she had already been a mother. As Empress, most of her days had been spent in the cold emptiness of the Phoenix Palace, enduring the obligatory greetings of concubines. Accustomed to solitude, she had little patience for the clamor of children, whether their words were mocking or scornful.
None of it mattered to her.
As she walked, a small, snow-white dumpling of a child appeared ahead.
Dressed in an ivory satin robe, the little dumpling stood beneath the bamboo. The fine fabric should have looked elegant, but his round little body stretched it comically out of shape. A tiny topknot perched atop his head, adding to the absurd charm.
“Su Minlang,” she murmured.
The dumpling turned hurriedly at the sound of her voice. His eyes lit up when he saw Shen Miao, as if he wanted to rush forward—but he hesitated, staying rooted in place, watching her silently.
The child truly resembled a four- or five-year-old. Shen Miao felt a headache coming on. Did he mistake her for his mother?
Su Minlang bit his lip, looking as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. Then, his eyes reddened, and he whispered in a soft, sticky-sweet voice, “I’m sorry…”
Sorry? Shen Miao blinked in surprise as the little dumpling’s mouth trembled, his face crumpling as if he were about to cry.
The next moment, a lazy voice cut in.
“So it’s you.”
Author’s Note:
Dear readers, don’t just stockpile chapters~ Hoarding affects the data for the official release, so start reading now! Any feedback is welcome—Tea is happy to make adjustments~
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