027

On a summer afternoon, the windows of Wenhua Hall were half-open, and a gentle breeze carrying the scent of lotus blossoms drifted in, stirring the room with the fragrance of ink. Si Mianmian and Xuan Jing sat side by side at the desk, copying the "Preface to the Poems Composed at the Orchid Pavilion" assigned by the Grand Tutor. She held the brush with a suspended wrist, her posture extremely serious, but her strokes were crooked. She wrote the character "永" (yong) three times, still unable to get it right.

Survival Handbook Rule #27: Appropriate "clumsiness" and "dependence" are excellent excuses to shorten the distance. The most skillful way to get closer is to get the other person to bend down on their own initiative.

"Brother Jing," she put down her pen, gently tugged at Xuan Jing's moon-white sleeve, her voice tinged with a hint of annoyance and coquettishness, "Why are these characters... so difficult to write? Could you teach Mianmian?"

Xuan Jing turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the slightly clumsy strokes on her paper before settling back on her slightly furrowed brows. The girl looked up, sunlight filtering through the window curtains, casting a soft glow on her delicate cheeks. Her long eyelashes cast soft shadows, and her eyes were clear and bright, filled with pure pleading. He didn't speak, but silently picked up his sandalwood-handled wolf-hair brush, dipped it in ink, and slowly demonstrated on another sheet of Xuan paper, "The Eight Principles of Yong Character: Structure is paramount; dots should be like falling stones, horizontal strokes like battle clouds..."

His voice was clear and calm, like jade striking each other, and his explanations were meticulous. Si Mianmian leaned closer, almost able to smell the faint scent of books and plum blossoms emanating from him. She seemed to be listening attentively, but half of her mind was elsewhere, pondering how to take this "classmate friendship" a step further. After days of calligraphy and tea ceremony lessons, she had successfully made calling him "Brother Jing" perfectly natural, but Xuan Jing always maintained a just-right distance, gentle and polite, yet unable to reach his true feelings.

After explaining, Xuan Jing handed the pen back to her. Si Mianmian took it, her fingertips "inadvertently" brushing against his knuckles, feeling a slightly cool touch. She imitated his brushstrokes, carefully putting pen to paper, but her wrist went limp, and a drop of full ink "splattered" onto the character she had just written, quickly spreading into a blotchy stain.

"Ah!" she exclaimed softly, hurriedly raising her hand to cover herself, but her sleeve accidentally flipped up the celadon brush washer next to her, and water immediately flooded half of the desk and also splashed onto Xuan Jing's sleeve.

The scene was a bit of a mess for a moment. Si Mianmian froze, looking at Xuan Jing's sleeves that were instantly soaked. Her eyes immediately reddened, and she stood there helplessly, like a child who had done something wrong, her voice choked with sobs: "I'm so sorry... Brother Jing, Mianmian is so clumsy... I got your clothes dirty..."

Xuan Jing glanced down at his soaked sleeve, the ink stains slowly dissolving in the water. His expression remained unchanged. He calmly took a plain white handkerchief and gently wiped away the ink stains from Si Mianmian's fingertips, his movements delicate, as if afraid of startling her. Only then did he tend to the watermarks on his own sleeve. "It's alright," he said calmly. "It's just a garment. It's normal for a beginner like the princess to be clumsy; there's no need to blame yourself."

The more nonchalant he seemed, the tighter Si Mianmian bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes, stubbornly refusing to fall. "But... but Mianmian always causes trouble for Brother Jing..." she said softly, her voice filled with frustration.

Survival Handbook Note: A clumsy "accident" that backfires can pique someone's sympathy and offer comfort, paving the way for success. The key is to be genuinely remorseful and adopt a humble demeanor, making it difficult for the other person to blame you.

Just then, the school bell rang. Si Mianmian silently packed up her writing materials, still feeling down. Xuan Jing stood quietly to the side, waiting for her to finish before saying, "The weather is quite nice today. Would the princess like to accompany Xuan Jing for a stroll in the Imperial Garden? The lotus flowers in the garden are in full bloom; perhaps it will help you relax."

Si Mianmian looked up at him through her tearful eyes. Seeing his gentle gaze, tinged with a barely perceptible concern, she felt a slight stirring in her heart and nodded.

The two strolled one after the other along the winding corridor beside Taiye Pond. The lotus leaves stretched endlessly to the sky, a boundless expanse of green, while the lotus blossoms, bathed in sunlight, shone with a uniquely vibrant red. Si Mianmian walked ahead, her mind still preoccupied with how to break the deadlock. Reaching a corner of a waterside pavilion, the flagstone path was slightly slippery from the morning's sweeping. Her eyes flashed, and suddenly she stumbled, her cry of surprise fading before she softly tumbled towards a pillar in the corridor.

She managed to fall with just the right amount of force, ensuring she wasn't seriously injured while still looking pathetic and disheveled.

"Princess!" Xuan Jing's voice rang out from behind him, carrying a rare hint of urgency.

The expected pain didn't come; a strong arm caught her waist just in time, pulling her steadily. Still shaken, Si Mianmian slumped into the man's arms, her cheek buried in his slightly damp clothes, the cool scent of plum blossoms becoming even more pronounced. She could even feel his heart pounding faster beneath his chest.

"Waaah..." She whimpered like a small animal, clutching Xuan Jing's clothes tightly. She looked up, and tears finally rolled down her pale cheeks, dripping onto the back of his hand that was supporting her waist, burning his fingertips almost imperceptibly. "Brother Jing... I was so scared..." Her voice trembled, full of lingering fear and dependence.

Xuan Jing looked down at the girl in his arms. Her hair was slightly disheveled, a few strands of black hair clung to her sweaty forehead, her eyes and nose were red, and her almond-shaped eyes were filled with fear and grievance as she stared straight at him, as if he were her only lifeline at that moment. His arm, which was supporting her waist, stiffened, but he did not immediately let go. His voice softened: "Are you hurt?"

Si Mianmian shook her head, but her tears fell even more fiercely. She sobbed, "My ankle... I think I twisted it... It hurts so much..." As she spoke, she slid down further, leaning entirely against his arm, as if she would fall down if she lost her support.

Xuan Jing frowned, helped her to sit on the chaise lounge next to him, and then knelt down to check her ankle. "Let me see."

"No!" Si Mianmian abruptly pulled her feet back under her skirt, hugged her knees, buried her face in them, only her reddened ear tips showing. Her shoulders trembled slightly as she cried even more bitterly, murmuring incoherently, "Mianmian is so useless... she can't write well... she trips when she walks... she always causes trouble for Brother Jing... Brother Jing must think Mianmian is a real nuisance... boohoo..."

Xuan Jing's outstretched hand froze in mid-air. He looked at the little figure curled up in a ball before him, crying uncontrollably. The crying didn't seem fake; it carried genuine sadness and self-loathing. He was silent for a moment, then withdrew his hand, still maintaining his half-kneeling posture, his voice gentler than ever before: "Xuan Jing has never found the princess troublesome."

“You’re lying…” Si Mianmian raised her tearful eyes, tears still clinging to her long eyelashes. “Then why… why is Brother Jing always so polite and distant to Mianmian? Mianmian knows she is a hostage, of low status, and unworthy of Brother Jing’s sincere treatment… but… but Mianmian truly considers Brother Jing her closest person…” She became more and more heartbroken as she spoke, as if she had suffered a great injustice.

Survival Handbook Notes: By retreating to advance, lowering your own status, and attributing the estrangement to yourself, you can evoke the other person's pity and desire to defend themselves.

These words, like a pebble thrown into a still lake, rippled across Xuan Jing's heart. His deepest hidden pain lay in the precariousness and loneliness brought about by his status as a "hostage." The girl's cries before him were, in a way, another form of empathy. He looked at her, and in those eyes that always held a gentle smile, her tearful face was clearly reflected, and something deep within seemed to be quietly melting away.

“Princess, you are overthinking it.” He finally sighed softly, raised his hand, and gently wiped away the tears on her cheek with his fingertips. His movements were awkward but full of affection. “Xuanjing has never been hypocritical towards the princess.”

Si Mianmian felt the cool touch of his fingertips, her heart skipped a beat, knowing the time was right. She grabbed his hand as he tried to pull it away, pressed it against her burning cheek, tilted her head back, and looked at him with eyes that were now clearer and brighter after being washed by tears. With a desperate courage and a childlike innocence, she softly and coquettishly said in a thick nasal voice:

"Then...how about I give you a sweet kiss, Brother Jing?"

Xuan Jing's body stiffened abruptly.

"Just like... just like when Mianmian fell down as a child, her mother would kiss her, and the pain would stop..." she said, pointing to her smooth forehead as if afraid he wouldn't understand, her eyes pure and untouchable, "A kiss here... and Mianmian would stop crying and be able to get up..."

A sudden silence fell, broken only by the rustling of lotus leaves in the wind and their clearly audible breathing. Xuan Jing's ears flushed a visibly light red. He looked at her; her eyes were filled with pure expectation and trust, as if this were simply a natural act of seeking comfort. He should scold her for being foolish, should immediately get up and leave, but his body seemed frozen. Her cheeks were soft and warm, her tears wetting his fingertips, as if scalding his heart.

Time seemed to freeze. Si Mianmian could feel his suddenly erratic breathing and tense body. Her heart pounded with anxiety, but her face remained innocent and naive, even a little dazed from crying for so long. She whispered again, urging, "Brother Jing?"

Xuan Jing's Adam's apple bobbed. He closed his eyes, then opened them again, his gaze churning with emotions that ultimately settled into a complex, somewhat resigned helplessness. He leaned down very lightly and quickly, his cool lips brushing against her forehead like a butterfly's wing, leaving an almost imperceptible touch.

Instantly separate.

It was so fast it felt like an illusion.

However, that soft touch, carrying his unique cool aura, remained on Si Mianmian's forehead.

"Now...can you get up?" Xuan Jing's voice was low and hoarse, with a hint of tension that was barely perceptible. He quickly straightened up, turned his face away, and the blush on his ears had already spread to his neck.

Si Mianmian was overjoyed, knowing that this seemingly small step was actually a major breakthrough in breaking down his defenses. A radiant smile, tinged with tears, bloomed on her face, and she nodded firmly: "Yes! Brother Jing kissed me, it doesn't hurt at all!" As she spoke, she leaned on the railing, making a move to stand up, but her legs buckled again. "Ouch..."

Xuan Jing almost instinctively reached out to support her again. This time, his arm was firm and steady, and he didn't let go.

Si Mianmian leaned against him, tilted her head back, and smiled mischievously like a kitten that had just stolen some cream. She said softly, "But... Mianmian's legs are still a little weak. Brother Jing... can you help me for a little while longer?"

Sunlight streamed through the pillars, elongating their intertwined shadows. Xuan Jing gazed at the smiling girl in his arms, and finally, almost inaudibly, responded:

"good."

The final lesson in survival: Ask for tenderness, not just a kiss. When someone is willing to break their rules and lower their guard for you, you have already secured a unique place in their heart.

The deep palace was quiet, but this fleeting kiss seemed to bring a touch of warmth to it.