002【Your Highness, Please Show Restraint】

“Your Highness?”

Xue Huai turned to face the visitor, lowering his head slightly and furrowing his brows as he quickly pondered the identity of the young woman before him.

The Emperor had many children—five adult princes and three princesses—but this young woman exuded an imposing and commanding presence that suggested she was not one of those reportedly well-behaved princesses.

In an instant, an answer formed in Xue Huai’s mind.

The visitor must be Princess Yun’an, Jiang Li. Her father was the late Prince Qi, Jiang Heng, who was the Emperor’s full brother. According to the protocols of the Great Yan dynasty, Jiang Li’s rank should have been that of a Commandery Princess. However, the Emperor, mindful of the early deaths of Prince Qi and his consort, and of Jiang Li’s lack of siblings, had shown her exceptional favor—more than to his own sons and daughters. Seven years prior, he decreed her title of Princess Yun’an.

Though the capital teemed with noble families and high-ranking officials, and countless privileged scions ran rampant, none dared behave brazenly in front of Princess Yun’an. Even the Crown Prince treated her with deference.

This princess had a notorious reputation. It was said she was imperious and capricious, indulging in her anger and pride, wielding the Emperor’s favor to act with impunity throughout the city. Many powerful and decadent nobles had met their comeuppance at her hands.

The most famous example was Ouyang Ding, youngest son of Chancellor Ouyang Hui. At last year’s Yunjing Poetry Gathering, Ouyang Ding was publicly whipped by Princess Yun’an simply for uttering a careless word. He had since hidden away at home for six months, too ashamed to show his face.

This was Xue Huai’s rough impression of Jiang Li.

So it followed that yesterday, for reasons unknown to him, he had come near this verdant private garden, only to be rescued by the princess’s guards.

At that moment, Jiang Li approached with measured steps. She wore a plain white embroidered jacket beneath a moon-blue silk brocade armor coat, the collar quietly adorned with silver thread phoenix patterns that shimmered as she moved.

Her raven-black hair was tied in a bun, pinned askew with a single white jade phoenix hairpin from Hetian, from which dangled a delicate tassel. Two tiny pearl earrings hung below her ears, lending her features an icy chill. The gilded silk sachet at her chest subdued her sharpness, and a thread of sandalwood incense swayed gently in the breeze.

Her eyes held the stillness of a frozen pool, her nose sharp and refined like the tip of a calligraphy brush. Her lips were pale, like early cherry blossoms kissed by frost, lightly touched with powder. Every inch of her bore the dignity of nobility, yet her presence was like a drawn soft sword, quietly piercing.

Suddenly, the thought “the visitor means harm” flashed through Xue Huai’s mind.

Though her men had saved him, considering the princess’s famous temper and the fact that she had come personally, it was certainly not to check on him—it was very likely his uninvited presence had soured her mood.

Sure enough, Jiang Li’s beautiful eyes fixed on Xue Huai with a faintly mocking gaze. “If you had the courage to drown yourself, why didn’t you even have the courage to look at me?”

Xue Huai was striking in appearance, but to Jiang Li, he was merely a handsome fool—brave but lacking in wit. He had read countless classics as if into a dog’s belly, yet at the slightest blow, he sought death like a pathetic waste.

In truth, she cared little whether a mere editor of the Hanlin Academy lived or died, but he had chosen to attempt suicide on her grounds, and with his complicated background, this was bound to cause her trouble.

Moreover, the incident had happened so abruptly that it aroused suspicion.

The Prince of Qi and his consort had died young. Jiang Li had grown up amidst the cold realities of court life, especially within the complex clan environment, naturally wary of anyone who tried to approach her. She would therefore be suspicious of their motives—even someone as refined as Xue Huai was no exception.

Xue Huai bowed respectfully, cautious and careful. “Your Highness, I did not attempt to drown myself. It was a moment of carelessness—I slipped and fell into the water.”

“Carelessness?” Jiang Li turned toward the table, speaking casually. “My guards reported yesterday evening that you, Xue Jingche, an esteemed editor of the Hanlin Academy and former third-place scholar, actually tried to drown yourself near my garden. If they had not found you in time and pulled you out, you would be dead.”

Seated, she stared at Xue Huai with a cold expression, her words sharp as knives. “You, Editor Xue, have always been known for your hatred of evil. Could it be that you think I have committed some crime, and, unable to harm me directly, you staged this death to slander me?”

Xue Huai felt the accusation came out of nowhere.

But from Jiang Li’s perspective, she was a secluded figure far from the center of power. If someone like Xue Huai inexplicably tried to drown himself outside her garden, how could the court’s heavyweights not seize on it? The Emperor’s favor toward her had long bred resentment—such as the Minister of Rites, an old man who repeatedly advised the Emperor against her, as if she, an orphaned girl, wielded real influence over the court.

Though this incident did not affect her fundamentally, hearing these old men’s constant complaints was vexing. She could not silence them as she did the reckless nobles.

Xue Huai was grateful that in his former life, he had studied classical culture and retained full memory and language skills. This allowed him to respond: “Your Highness, your household must have been far away, and thus mistaken. I was merely lost in thought, stepped wrong, and unfortunately fell into the water. I do not know how to swim, so naturally panicked and could not save myself. Thankfully, your household’s timely rescue spared my life.”

The fall was accidental, but the fact that the original owner gave up struggling in a critical moment was true. It was understandable the princess would suspect otherwise.

However, Xue Huai could not admit it. He was still unsure of this favored daughter of heaven’s temperament, and rumors said she was capricious. If she suddenly flew into a rage and ordered her guards to kill him, would the Emperor demand Jiang Li to pay with her life?

The idea of princes punished as commoners was mostly wishful thinking among scholars, unless factional struggles were involved.

Jiang Li’s eyes narrowed slightly, apparently surprised that such words came from Xue Huai’s mouth.

Was he not supposed to be pedantic and foolish?

Thinking this, Jiang Li sneered. “I am curious—Editor Xue, you were supposed to be on duty at the Hanlin Academy yesterday. Why then did you have the leisure to stroll near the Qinglu Private Garden? Could it be...” She paused, lifting her gaze to Xue Huai with disdain. “Could it be you wanted to stage a clumsy ‘Phoenix Seeks the Phoenix’ romance?”

Xue Huai frowned. “Please, Your Highness, be cautious with your words!”

Unexpectedly, Jiang Li did not get angry. Instead, she replied leisurely, “They say you are proud and aloof, viewing the entire court as petty and corrupt, caring only for the Emperor—perhaps with the exception of Minister Shen of Rites from a year ago. I thought you must be someone else; these words carry some of the rumored backbone.”

Xue Huai did not fan the flames. He only felt the original owner’s rigid principles were excessive.

Even if one refuses to blend in, as a newcomer in officialdom, alienating nearly everyone would make future work impossible.

Seeing his silence, Jiang Li shifted her tone. “If you have such backbone, why did you want to die? And even if that were true, the capital is large. You could have died anywhere—at the Hanlin Academy, at the Xue Mansion, even in front of Minister Ning’s door. That would satisfy your ridiculous and pitiful pride. Yet you chose to drown yourself outside my garden gate. Xue Huai, what scheme are you playing at? I see no old grudge between us.”

Xue Huai replied slowly, “Your Highness seems to harbor great prejudice against me.”

“Prejudice?” Jiang Li shook her head, though still seated, she held a commanding air. “What right do you have to expect me to regard you differently? I simply think people like you—who only know how to prattle—are of no benefit to the state or the people. You have served for nearly two years, but apart from wandering about like a headless fly writing memorials, what else have you done? In the end, you are just trying to buy a good reputation, just like your mentor who has been famed for twenty years.”

She not only looked down on Xue Huai but also on the honorable Minister Shen Wang.

Xue Huai responded solemnly, “Your Highness, the reason I impeach those men is because they are corrupt and oppress the people—not for personal fame. As for my mentor, I fear it is not Your Highness’s place to judge him.”

Though Minister Shen had been somewhat disappointed in him over the past six months, Xue Huai understood the importance of mentor-mentee bonds in officialdom and must defend his teacher.

“Don’t try to dodge the question,” Jiang Li said coldly. “I am too lazy to argue. I will ask once more: Were you incited by others to drag me into your officials’ schemes and intrigues?”

Xue Huai sensed the princess’s focus was peculiar. Given her status, even if he were standing here unharmed or had truly died in the Jiuqu River, how could it affect her?

Simply put, Jiang Li’s suspicion was excessive and unusual.

He calmly looked back at her. She was young—no more than sixteen or seventeen—but her nobility made one forget her age.

With that in mind, Xue Huai said earnestly, “Your Highness, as I have said, this was a mere accident. There is no enmity between us, and I greatly admire your righteous spirit in rooting out injustice. How could I deliberately cause you trouble?”

“Still won’t tell the truth?” Jiang Li’s cold gaze fixed on him. Suddenly, she called out, “Guards!”

Two burly guards appeared at the door in an instant.

Xue Huai remained composed. “Your Highness, I am an official of the court.”

After all, he was a distinguished Hanlin editor appointed by the Emperor, a man known for loyalty and integrity—not a reckless noble brat Jiang Li could scold at will.

“Don’t worry, I won’t use torture,” Jiang Li smiled. “I just want them to witness this. Afterwards, I will petition the Emperor, saying I saved Editor Xue who had a misstep and fell into the water. But then I discovered you took advantage of my kindness and tried to assault me. Xue Huai, who do you think the Emperor will believe? Even if he spares you, what do you think those officials you impeached will do when this spreads? Will you still have a place in court?”

She spoke with light amusement, as if recounting a trivial matter, completely indifferent to how this would utterly ruin Xue Huai’s life.

A chill gripped Xue Huai’s heart. He could not discern truth from falsehood in her words and had to prepare for the worst.

Under Jiang Li’s intrigued gaze, Xue Huai took a step forward.