Chapter 58

When Cui Zui left, he still felt a lingering reluctance. Holding the stack of exam papers on which he hadn’t solved a single question, he fixed his gaze on Xue Jin’an and asked, “Master, is there truly nothing you want to tell me?”

Xue Jin’an pondered for a moment and replied, “There will be a heavy snowfall tomorrow, and the temperature will suddenly drop by over ten degrees. Remember to wear your hat.”

His mind wasn’t particularly sharp to begin with; he must not catch a cold, after all, humans are not very resistant to the cold.

Though Cui Zui heard words of clear concern, something about them felt off, yet when pressed, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong. So, he let it go and sat on the carriage, preparing to leave.

Once the carriage left the palace grounds, a waiting servant took over the reins, and Cui Zui entered the cabin, only to find Cui Pengfei examining his exam questions, sighing wistfully, “A prodigy as versatile as the Seventh Prince—truly unheard of in all my years.”

Geniuses have never been scarce in this world: Gan Luo became prime minister at twelve, Huo Qubing was made a duke at eighteen, and poets like Luo Binwang, Wang Bo, and Li Bai all showed early brilliance. Yet, their talents often shone in a single discipline. To see someone like the Seventh Prince, who seemed without any shortcomings in every field, was a rare spectacle even after Cui Pengfei’s eighty-plus years.

The longer Cui Pengfei studied the papers, the more delighted he became, though a shadow of sorrow crept into his heart—too much brilliance often bore a cost.

Cui Zui didn’t know what was on his grandfather’s mind but, seeing him scrutinize the questions for so long, he assumed he could solve them and immediately brightened, “Grandfather, please teach me how to solve these problems!”

Unexpectedly, Cui Pengfei shot a strange glance at him and said firmly, “I don’t even know what gravity is; how could I possibly teach you how to solve these?”

“Then why did you sigh with such heartfelt emotion!” Cui Zui, frustrated, snatched the papers back without a hint of respect for his elder.

Cui Pengfei watched him scratch his head for a long time without making a single mark on the paper, then disdainfully looked away. “You truly lack the literary talent you have in martial arts. Don’t strain yourself.”

Cui Pengfei believed Cui Zui was genuinely more gifted in martial arts than in literature, but he didn’t think that focusing on literature would doom him. Though not as talented as Cui Zhuo, who topped the imperial examinations in Jiangnan, Cui Zui’s abilities still ranked among the top candidates. If he took the regular imperial exams, a high second-tier placement would be guaranteed.

His words were a gentle admonition, advising him not to force himself to prove something outside his strengths. Playing to one’s strengths is no shame.

Cui Zui caught the meaning and suddenly smiled, his exquisitely refined features radiating a stunning beauty, free of his usual gloom. Since he had already accepted the Seventh Prince as his master, he had clearly decided to pursue the martial path.

He didn’t explain but shook the exam papers in his hand and grinned slyly, “Grandfather is right. In literature, I am indeed far behind Ziqiong. I imagine a top scholar like him wouldn’t fail to answer a single question. Wouldn’t you agree, Grandfather?”

Ziqiong was the courtesy name of Cui Zhuo. The Cui family shared many traits. Both Cui Zui and Cui Zhuo were proud and stubborn, but in different ways: Cui Zui’s pride was hidden within his obstinacy, making him seem simply headstrong, while Cui Zhuo concealed his obstinacy beneath his pride, appearing cold and aloof.

Among the younger generation of the Cui family, these two brothers were singular and independent, close to each other yet distant from others. The difference was that Cui Zui was isolated and looked down upon by everyone, whereas Cui Zhuo was isolated and looked down upon everyone.

Though there was an age gap, both had long been known as prodigies and naturally competed in secret, each striving to outdo the other. Hearing Cui Zui’s words, Cui Zhuo undoubtedly stayed up all night to solve at least one problem.

Cui Pengfei, silent on their childish rivalry, only warned, “Be careful not to upset him, or you’ll have no way to defend yourself.”

Cui Zui was entirely unfazed.

As the carriage entered the city, its speed slowed, and the clamorous sounds pressed eagerly into their ears. Cui Zui lifted the curtain to glance outside and suddenly asked, “Grandfather, the sky looks clear. It doesn’t seem like it’s going to snow heavily.”

“Snow should have fallen by now in past years.” The capital typically saw snow as early as September or October. Yet, now it was nearly December, and not a single flake had fallen; temperatures still felt like late autumn. This was unusual.

Fields lay fallow in winter, and snow kills insect eggs; spring is plowing season, and snow then often kills seedlings. As the old saying goes, “A winter snow brings wealth; a spring snow brings disaster.” Since the Tang dynasty, the south had gradually surpassed the north in many respects, including grain production.

The capital was in the north, where winter usually arrived earlier. If no snow came in the north, the south might face calamities the following year.

Cui Pengfei also looked outside and saw commoners selling off some of their winter supplies, worried about the prolonged absence of winter. A kind porter advised them to keep their supplies, fearing sudden weather changes, but the man thought the porter meddled and reckoned this winter wouldn’t be as harsh as usual. The porter shook his head and walked away.

Cui Zui lowered the curtain, and Cui Pengfei said indifferently, “We’ll know tomorrow if it snows.”

Within Zhaoyang Palace, the same discussion about snowfall was underway.

Shou Quan asked Xue Jin’an curiously, “Your Highness, how can you tell whether it will snow or not?”

Xue Jin’an pointed to the sky, expressionless, “It tells me.”

He spoke truthfully. His weather forecasting wasn’t a sophisticated app or map, but it required connection to the global network, synchronizing information from this world—essentially, the world was telling him.

The forecast predicted sleet turning to heavy snow, lasting intermittently for four to five days. Starting from the night’s final hour, temperatures would plunge from twelve degrees Celsius to minus five over the next two or three days, with the perceived temperature dropping even further by three to five degrees.

“If only Heaven could tell me the weather in advance,” Lingzhi said, stepping out and tapping her forehead lightly with a somewhat helpless tone. “If it really snows, the Wardrobe Department won’t have time to make new clothes. We’ll have to repurpose old garments and quilts into winter clothes and bedding.”

The winter clothes Lingzhi referred to were thick, fur-lined cloaks and coats, not the cotton-padded jackets Xue Jin’an currently wore.

Since moving to Zhaoyang Palace, Xue Jin’an had already received a new set of clothes, all custom-made by Lingzhi through the Wardrobe Department. But it was the peak season: the department was busy producing seasonal clothes for all the palaces and new outfits for the lords for New Year's Eve. The embroiderers were overwhelmed, and only about half of Lingzhi’s orders had arrived.

Repurposing old clothes could be done in half a day. Lingzhi wasn’t sure whether it would really snow but preferred to err on the side of caution and decided to make a trip.

At the same time, she needed to visit Cining Palace. She directly told Xue Jin’an, “About Master Cui’s visit, the Empress Dowager must be informed. I am but a humble servant and not sure which details to emphasize or omit. Please advise, Your Highness.”

Lingzhi’s inquiry was a clear gesture of loyalty to the Seventh Prince.

Shou Quan’s eyes brightened with delight. Both Lingzhi and Fuling were skilled in martial arts; Lingzhi was tactful and adept at handling social matters with maturity and grace, flawless in every way. Having such a person entirely devoted to the master’s affairs was an immense blessing.

Now that the master was isolated and vulnerable, it was not schemers he feared but a lack of capable allies.

Though excited, Shou Quan kept his composure, largely because his master’s expression was so calm and indifferent that he too instinctively remained steady.

Feigning ignorance of Lingzhi’s subtle hint, he said playfully, “Lingzhi sister, what nonsense are you saying? You are unparalleled in wisdom and courage. If you are foolish, then I must be utterly stupid. You belong to the Empress Dowager and naturally must serve her faithfully and report truthfully.”

Lingzhi understood his meaning—that she should clarify her stance—and replied frankly, “Though Fuling and I were left by the Empress Dowager, we obey whoever we serve and will never serve two masters.”

She then produced the Empress Dowager’s token from her sleeve and presented it.

“Keep it,” Xue Jin’an declined. He said there was nothing he couldn’t disclose; he would answer the Empress Dowager’s inquiries straightforwardly.

Lingzhi was somewhat surprised. She had imagined many possible reactions from Xue Jin’an, but not this refusal. The token could command a small squad from the Wardrobe Office—limited in number but enough to stir trouble within the palace. At least his intelligence network would be much sharper.

Seeing that Xue Jin’an didn’t even glance at the token and carried himself with calm ease, it was clear his words were sincere and transparent with trust.

What had been a natural submission now warmed Lingzhi’s heart, dispelling her lingering unease.

“I understand, Your Highness,” Lingzhi said with a smile and withdrew.

She first sent the agreed-upon old clothes and quilts to the Wardrobe Department for alteration. The female officer there was puzzled and helpless, thinking Lingzhi’s request a waste of time. The palace’s young masters and mistresses rarely wore old clothes for long, let alone patched garments.

But there was no choice. The officer knew Lingzhi was connected to both Zhaoyang and Cining Palaces—two formidable factions. No matter how foolish she seemed with these troublesome requests, the work had to be done quickly. Luckily, it was only alterations, and half a day would suffice.

While the Wardrobe Department worked on the clothes, Lingzhi went to Cining Palace to report.

The Empress Dowager did not interrogate every detail but mainly asked if Cui Pengfei had been diligent in his teaching and how things were progressing. Upon hearing that Cui Pengfei had brought a martial-arts-skilled grandson to teach Xue Jin’an archery, she remarked that Cui Pengfei was thoughtful.

Before leaving, Lingzhi mentioned the impending temperature drop and snowfall. “His Highness is deeply filial, worrying that the sudden weather change might affect your health, so he specially instructed me to inform you.”

Of course, this instruction was fabricated—Lingzhi merely sought to curry favor with Xue Jin’an.

The Empress Dowager nodded with great satisfaction. Nurse Su immediately smiled, “I shall fetch some thick clothes to air out so they can be worn tomorrow.”