> Behind the academy's lecture hall, by a small pond, stood an old locust tree as thick as two men's arms encircling it. Beneath its shade, students would often nap in the afternoon, or gather in twos and threes to recite texts or play chess. Rarely did anyone use this place for any true "scholarly discussion."
Yet this was precisely the spot Li Ze chose.
He recopied the essay he had written in his dispute with the instructor that day, tucking it into his sleeve. In his hands, he held a rarely borrowed book, Illustrated Rites of Spring, pretending to read.
When the afternoon quieted and the place was sparsely occupied, the corner of his eye caught sight of someone slowly approaching.
"Brother Li, your refined tastes haven't waned, I see."
The newcomer wore the academy's uniform, a jade pendant hanging at his waist, chiming with every step. His name was Cui Wangzhi, a scion of the prominent Cui clan in the capital—someone Li Ze had never crossed paths with before.
Li Ze nodded slightly without rising, his voice calm. "The pondside breeze is cool. I come here now and then to escape the heat."
"This place is rarely disturbed—perfect for matters unfit for the classroom," Cui Wangzhi said, half crouching down. From his sleeve, he drew a roll of fine silk script. "For example, your essay from the other day."
Li Ze looked up, his gaze landing on the paper in Cui's hand, though a flicker of wariness stirred in his heart—
That essay had only been copied once and handed to the instructor. How had it ended up in the Cui family's possession?
"Your words directly challenge the hollowness of sagehood and orthodoxy. Put politely, you are bold. Put bluntly, you disrespect your teacher and the ancient masters." Cui Wangzhi's tone was mild. "But I like it."
"Oh?"
"This world has no shortage of two types of men—those who feign ignorance, and those who believe in it. You, you're not the believing kind."
Li Ze gently closed the book. "So is your visit for friendship? Or to draw me into a game?"
"You're quick to say the key words." Cui Wangzhi smiled. "Yes, I am here to invite you into the game. The court is in chaos—princes vying for the throne, ministers locked in shadow wars. The academy claims to stand apart, but in truth, its factions are long formed."
"I am merely a poor-born scholar, without background or patrons."
"Poor-born?" Cui Wangzhi leaned in, lowering his voice. "Do you know how many of the masters argued deep into the night over your public censure of The Great Learning? You think yourself a pawn unnoticed?"
Li Ze's eyes narrowed slightly. After a pause, he replied, "I merely spoke what I believed."
"Those words are worth gold." Cui Wangzhi raised his eyes. "My Cui clan now stands with the Fourth Prince. Our household keeps over a hundred strategists, and what we lack are not talents, but those who can strike to the heart and dare to speak truth against the wind."
Li Ze slowly rose, brushing the dust from his robe, gazing at the pond's reflection.
"You call me a man who dares speak. But a man who dares speak without protection is a madman."
"Then I'll give you protection."
"And if your Fourth Prince never ascends to high office?"
For the first time, Cui Wangzhi hesitated. He studied Li Ze's face—calm as still water—then, after a long moment, smiled.
"You're almost too calm."
"I'm not calm," Li Ze said, eyes down, smoothing his sleeves. "I'm afraid."
"Afraid?"
"Afraid that if I misstep once, I will truly become a madman."
Cui Wangzhi tossed the scroll lightly; it landed at Li Ze's feet. Without another word, he turned and left.
"Think on it. The court waits for no one, and the academy even less."
When he was gone, Li Ze bent down, picking up the familiar handwriting on the scroll. His gaze darkened.
He knew—he was already entangled.
Not because his essay was too good.
But because they were too cruel.