Chapter Four: The Young Master's Mind Has Gone Awry

Yu Hualiang was having his first meal in the grand hall. Though there was a heater, the space felt cold—after all, it was truly vast. Secretly, his heart brimmed with delight; he never expected his luck to be this good. Such a magnificent manor would one day be his.

Aside from lacking central heating, it promised ample room for growth; when his time came, it would fetch at least three hundred million—no, five hundred million. The thought alone made him happy.

The atmosphere at the dining table was strangely quiet; everyone kept their heads down, eating in silence. Was this some ancient custom? Yet, the dishes today were genuinely delicious: fish soup, pork ribs, tofu, chicken... and even a vegetarian dish of cabbage. He wondered how they had cabbage in such cold weather.

He glanced at Yu Ming, who signaled him not to speak. Then at his mother, who gave him the same silent warning. He looked at Wang Ji, who ignored him and continued eating.

Finally, his gaze landed on Zi Cheng, who slowly raised his head and met Yu Hualiang’s eyes, sensing he had something to say. “Is there something you need?” he asked.

Yu Hualiang nodded—it wasn’t anything major. He simply wanted a bite of cabbage, which seemed worlds away on the table. Why couldn’t the table rotate?

“Brother Zi Cheng, would you mind passing me some cabbage? I can’t reach it.”

His words caught everyone off guard. For a moment, all four at the table were stunned. Yu Ming quickly intervened, “Absolutely not! Liang’er, confess your mistake at once!”

Yu Hualiang was bewildered. He had only asked Zi Cheng to help him with the dish; what was wrong with that? Then it dawned on him: Zi Cheng might be the Emperor. Asking the Emperor to serve food… It actually sounded quite impressive.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Yu Hualiang slid from his chair and knelt on the floor, a swift, practiced movement.

The four at the table were surprised yet again. Zi Cheng leaned slightly, amusement in his eyes, and, picking up some cabbage with his chopsticks, said, “Bring your bowl.”

Yu Hualiang reached onto the table, found his bowl, and, with a bright smile, presented it to Zi Cheng—looking for all the world like a beggar.

Yu Ming’s face darkened; his son had embarrassed him once more. Thankfully, the Seventh Prince did not take offense.

The royal family was difficult to deal with; whether relations were good or bad, there was always danger. The Seventh Prince’s interest in Yu Hualiang surely meant he was scheming something behind the scenes.

He couldn’t help but worry for his son.

Zi Cheng handed him the cabbage. “A reward for you,” he said.

Yu Hualiang, suddenly understanding the etiquette, responded, “Thank you—” but before he could finish, Zi Cheng interrupted him and told him to sit back down and eat.

After the meal, Yu Hualiang hoped to spend the night researching painting with Wang Ji, but Wang Ji nervously declined. Zi Cheng, however, accepted the invitation and stayed.

In truth, Yu Hualiang hadn’t expected him to actually stay—it was merely a formality.

After dinner, Zi Cheng insisted they walk in the courtyard to aid digestion, forbidding others from joining. This posed a problem: Yu Hualiang didn’t know the way, and he was notoriously directionless.

Zi Cheng followed him with absolute trust. Yu Hualiang grabbed a broken branch and used it to mark their path in the snow.

“Do you know who I am?” Zi Cheng finally asked, after careful deliberation.

Yu Hualiang paused. Was he revealing his identity so soon? Should he claim ignorance or knowledge?

After some consideration, Yu Hualiang chose to feign ignorance. “I don’t know,” he replied.

Zi Cheng’s eyes sparkled. “I am Mu Zicheng, the Seventh Prince of the Mu Kingdom.”

Well, that was awkward—not the Emperor, but the Seventh Prince. Fortunately, he had said he didn’t know; otherwise, it would have been embarrassing.

Yu Hualiang hesitated, wondering what was the proper way to respond now.

Zi Cheng noticed his hesitation and felt a tinge of awkwardness himself; neither moved for a moment.

Yu Hualiang hurried over and knelt, declaring, “Long live the Seventh Prince!”

Zi Cheng coughed lightly. “Get up. When no one is around, we can address each other as brothers. In public, you must observe proper etiquette.”

“Yes,” Yu Hualiang replied, wondering if he hadn’t followed protocol today.

Mu Zicheng helped him up, studying his features carefully. Indeed, he had a striking appearance—somewhat delicate for a man, but undeniably pleasing, making Mu Zicheng feel at ease.

“Liang, we are kindred spirits. I regard you as a brother. As it happens, my prince’s residence lacks an official painter. Why not come with me tomorrow as my royal artist?”

Yu Hualiang hesitated. He hadn’t even warmed his seat here, and now he was to leave. He hadn’t fully adjusted to the Yu family’s environment. What if he wanted to refuse?

But he was a prince...

Zi Cheng sensed his reluctance and broke into a smile, leaning close to whisper, “No need to be nervous, Liang. I see great talent in you, and invite you sincerely. If you don’t accept now, you might be snatched by someone else, and then I’d lose out.”

Yu Hualiang broke into a cold sweat. So he wasn’t allowed to follow anyone else either? How domineering!

He bent slightly and replied, “Rest assured, Your Highness, I won’t go with anyone else.”

Wait… did that sound odd?

Zi Cheng looked satisfied. “I’ve heard the Yu family has a place called the Three Saints Grove, said to be quite scenic. Will you take me there?”

Yu Hualiang was embarrassed. What Three Saints Grove? He didn’t know the way!

He couldn’t admit his ignorance, so he smiled awkwardly. “Your Highness has such refined taste, but I’m afraid I can’t accompany you…”

“Hmm? Are you unwell?” Zi Cheng asked.

Yu Hualiang clasped his head and feigned nearly fainting. “I suppose… my mind doesn’t work well, and I often have headaches.”

Zi Cheng grabbed his shoulder, concern on his face. “You should rest more, Liang.”

Yu Hualiang was stunned by the gesture, looked at him, and nodded. “I’m sorry to spoil your mood, Your Highness.”

“Your health is most important,” Zi Cheng replied.

The words gave Yu Hualiang goosebumps. What was with this prince’s kindness?

They strolled back together. The Seventh Prince resided in a refined courtyard chosen by Yu Ming, far from Yu Hualiang’s own—one at the east end, one at the west.

Here, the path split. Yu Hualiang looked at his own courtyard, then at Zi Cheng. “Your Highness, I’ll take my leave.”

Zi Cheng pulled him back. “Why the hurry, Liang? I’m unfamiliar with your family’s estate, and my servants are nowhere to be found. Why not wait with me?”

No! He didn’t want to. It was getting dark, the cold was biting, and he didn’t want to stand here freezing.

Yu Hualiang forced a smile. “Alright.”

After a minute, with nothing to do, a rustle came from the bushes. Yu Hualiang turned his gaze. Snow on the low shrubs was suddenly shaken off.

Both watched intently as a large white rabbit bounded out. Yu Hualiang felt resigned; the Yu family was so girlish—they kept rabbits?

He wasn’t fond of it, but the rabbit seemed especially fond of him, unafraid, nestling at his feet.

Zi Cheng smiled. “So it’s true that Liang likes rabbits.”

What? Yu Hualiang raised rabbits? He couldn’t stand it. He was fond of dogs, and used to keep a golden retriever. Now that he was gone, his parents must have taken care of it. Nothing to worry about…

He sighed, turning to find the prince cradling the rabbit in his arms.

So handsome, cold, and imposing—yet now gentle, holding a rabbit. The sight made Yu Hualiang’s heart skip a beat.

It was truly a beautiful scene.

Just then, the prince’s servant arrived. Yu Hualiang bowed in farewell, earning a look of displeasure from the servant, while the prince found it amusing.

He said, “Liang, I’ll take the rabbit with me. Let’s meet again tomorrow.”

Watching the Seventh Prince depart, Yu Hualiang almost ran back, only to find Mo Cai sweeping snow outside his door. Seeing Yu Hualiang return in a rush, Mo Cai asked, “Did something happen, young master?”

Had the young master angered the prince and hurried back to escape?

Yu Hualiang anxiously replied, “Little Black! Hurry, prepare brushes, paper, and paints!”

“Huh?” What was happening? Who was Little Black?

“Why are you standing there? Go find them!”

Yu Hualiang dashed to the desk and tidied it up. Though Mo Cai looked plain, he was quick and efficient.

Yu Hualiang laid out paper, Mo Cai ground ink. Seeing his young master so eager to paint, he was happy for him; after all, he used to detest these things.

Yu Hualiang picked up the brush, dipped it in ink, and carefully recalled the scene he’d just witnessed. The prince wore a deep blue robe with patterns, his posture handsome and elegant, layered in several garments.

Behind him, a few pine trees stood, draped in snow, their dark green boughs faintly visible.

The sky cleared, the setting sun cast a gentle pink.

This time, he used a watercolor style; though colors were few, with some mixing, they sufficed.

Unable to find an absorbent sponge, he realized his sleeve worked well and used it instead.

Mo Cai watched in distress.

When the painting was done, Mo Cai couldn’t help but praise, “Is this the Seventh Prince? It looks alive.”