Chapter 91: Transformation

When Feng Qiuji heard him speak that way, she couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. Truly, the world’s morals had declined—look, even a child of four or five dared to be so arrogant, claiming homework was meaningless. He was certainly destined for greatness.

But she mustn’t forget that the soul inside Arno’s body was already that of a teenager. For someone his real age, he truly was a genius.

Still, genius or not, arrogance was unacceptable. “Arno, you can’t go through life so conceited, do you understand? Don’t always think you’re so amazing. Pride invites loss, while humility brings reward—you must have learned that in primary school, didn’t you? Don’t forget these principles…”

As soon as Feng Qiuji began her lecture, Ling Shunuo looked utterly exasperated. He yawned and said, “I’m so tired. I’ll head back and take a nap.”

“Wait,” Feng Qiuji grabbed him by the collar. “Why are you so sleepy? Did you sneak out last night to become a thief?”

“You’re the one sneaking around like a thief,” Ling Shunuo shot her a glare. “Lately I just can’t sleep at night, and then I’m tired all day.”

“Insomnia?” Feng Qiuji eyed him with suspicion, her gaze falling to his lap. Even though his body was only five, the soul inside was sixteen or seventeen—an age of restless energy and awakening desires. Could it be that Ling Shunuo was up at night dealing with certain… impulses?

“Could you not look at me like that?” Ling Shunuo, seeing her lecherous expression, knew exactly what she was imagining. He rolled his eyes. “This body is only five years old. Even if I had the inclination, I don’t have the means.”

“So you do have the inclination?” Feng Qiuji was suddenly sympathetic. In ancient times, boys his age would already be married with children, especially someone of royal blood—he should have been introduced to such matters at twelve or thirteen. What a pity, now he was trapped in the body of a five-year-old, completely unable to behave beyond his years.

“Can you just let me sleep?” Ling Shunuo really didn’t want to talk anymore. He simply walked off and went to bed.

Feng Qiuji was left in the Splendid Palace, resting her chin in her hand, pondering whether she ought to tell Ling Zhetian about this. It didn’t seem right to mention it, but if he asked, what could she say? She couldn’t possibly tell him that Arno was a genius and thus precocious, already entering the throes of adolescence, could she?

When Feng Qiuji returned to the study, Ling Zhetian was still reviewing memorials. What pleased her most, however, was that he’d finished all the snacks she’d made. This delighted her. “Since you enjoy them so much, I’ll make them for you often, all right?”

“No need,” Ling Zhetian replied without looking up. “From now on, just cook my meals.”

“Oh.” Cooking—now that was something she truly didn’t know how to do.

“What’s wrong with Arno? Have you figured it out?” Of course, he would ask!

“Um, well…” Feng Qiuji’s mind raced. “He says he’s been having trouble sleeping lately, so he’s been listless all day.”

“Insomnia?” Ling Zhetian set down his brush. “Should I have the imperial physician prepare some calming medicines for him?”

“That’s probably best.” Feng Qiuji couldn’t be bothered to concern herself further. She plopped down nearby, produced a bag of sunflower seeds from her sleeve, crossed her legs, and began cracking them open. “Children these days are impossible to fathom.”

Ling Zhetian watched her, inwardly sighing—she looked nothing like the mother of a nation. Where was her regal bearing? She was even more unrefined than a street ruffian. Oh well. He bent his head and returned to his work.

“Crack, spit, crack, spit, crack, spit…” The sound of Feng Qiuji cracking seeds became an endless refrain in his ears, threatening to linger for days. He found himself completely unable to concentrate on the memorials, his mind filled only with the sound of her eating.

In fact, Feng Qiuji had never been fond of sunflower seeds, always finding them too much trouble for too little reward. But lately, her life had been so dull, she desperately needed something to occupy her time. Cracking seeds was perfect—it exercised the hands and provided a snack. Why not? The more she did it, the more entertaining she found it.

“Feng Qiuji.” Ling Zhetian finally couldn’t bear it any longer. “Can’t you pay attention to your appearance? Imagine if someone saw you like this—what would they think? You have no dignity whatsoever. It’s shameful!”

Feng Qiuji’s face fell at his words. She hated regimented living most of all, and the palace was nothing but rules—rules for eating, for walking, for speaking. How was one supposed to enjoy life?

“I get it,” Feng Qiuji replied impatiently. She became especially irritable whenever rules were mentioned.

“Tonight, Princess Kimura from Fusang will arrive. You’d better not embarrass yourself in public, or I won’t forgive you.” He’d realized that Feng Qiuji couldn’t be indulged—even a little leniency, and she forgot herself. Only by keeping a stern face and scolding her could he make her acknowledge her mistakes.

The mention of another princess left Feng Qiuji with a headache. Another princess meant another banquet, which meant she’d have to sit before a table of delicacies and pretend she wasn’t hungry, nibbling only a tiny amount before stopping. She really couldn’t fathom these palace rules—who decided that one couldn’t eat one’s fill? So much food left uneaten, so wasteful, with not a shred of environmental consciousness.

“If you know, then go back to your palace and prepare yourself.”

Feng Qiuji left Chaoyun Palace, disgruntled. She’d barely taken a few steps when a shriek rang out. Ling Zhetian hurried out to find her had crashed into a tree, leaving a large bump on her forehead.

“Unbelievable.” Ling Zhetian shook his head helplessly, brought her inside, and summoned the imperial physician.

After examining Feng Qiuji, the physician produced a jar of ointment and assured Ling Zhetian there was nothing serious. As long as she applied the medicine daily, she’d be fine in two or three days.

Once the physician had left, Ling Zhetian began applying the ointment himself.

“Ow, that hurts! Can’t you be a bit more gentle?” Feng Qiuji couldn’t help but cry out at his rough touch. “I’m not a slab of pork, you know!”

“If you know it hurts, why did you walk into a tree? Can’t you behave like a proper lady?”

“If you like proper ladies so much, why did you marry me?” Feng Qiuji bristled at his scolding. She’d never claimed to be a refined lady—why was she expected to act like one? It was utterly unfair!

**

The banquet was as grand as ever, with all the civil and military officials in attendance, making for a lively scene. Princess Kimura Kana, in particular, caught Feng Qiuji’s attention—she was quite beautiful, her manners graceful and poised, every inch a princess. Seeing her, Feng Qiuji recalled Ling Zhetian’s admonition from that afternoon.

How hard could it be to act like a lady? She could do that too.

Throughout the banquet, Feng Qiuji sat beside Ling Zhetian, only occasionally picking up her chopsticks to sample a few dishes within reach. After a few elegant bites, she set her chopsticks down, not touching her food again. Instead, she smiled serenely, watching and listening to the conversations around her. On her forehead, a plaster was carefully hidden beneath newly styled bangs, chosen specifically to conceal her injury.

Ling Zhetian was astonished by her comportment. Tonight, Feng Qiuji seemed like a different person entirely. In the past, she would pile all the dishes into her bowl, devouring everything within arm’s reach until the table looked as though a typhoon had struck. Afterward, she’d wipe her oily mouth with her sleeve and rub her stomach, loudly declaring how full she was.

But tonight… she was unrecognizable. Even if she was putting on a show, this was too much.

After the meal, Feng Qiuji rose early, bowed to Ling Zhetian, and, moving with graceful steps, quietly exited his line of sight.

“Brother, what’s wrong with Sister-in-law? Did she take the wrong medicine?” Ling Zexin materialized out of nowhere, nudging Ling Zhetian and whispering. He’d sensed something was off with Feng Qiuji all evening, and now his suspicions were confirmed.

“I don’t know.” Ling Zhetian frowned. He would have to observe her closely when they returned to Chaoyun Palace. Something was definitely amiss.

“Could her soul have wandered again?” Ling Zexin suddenly remembered how, a year ago, Feng Qiuji’s spirit had been forced out of her body.

Ling Zhetian had always been troubled by that incident as well. But now, in this body, she should be herself—there ought to be no way for anyone else to take her place. Still, hearing Ling Zexin’s suggestion left him uneasy. He needed to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible. If it were true, things could get complicated.

During the banquet, Feng Qiuji had noticed another detail—Arno’s eyes had been fixed on Princess Kimura all evening, a glimmer of admiration in his gaze. She guessed that Ling Shunuo had developed a crush on the princess. But as for their prospects, the chance of success was virtually nil.

Feng Qiuji had originally hoped to find Princess Kimura a suitable noble husband at court. She couldn’t become Ling Zhetian’s consort or Ling Zexin’s concubine. That left only the sons of the top ministers. In terms of status, Princess Kimura would be a suitable match for Ling Shunuo. But the boy was only five, and the princess at least fifteen. Age might not be the greatest barrier, but their heights certainly were. Even if she wished to play matchmaker for Ling Shunuo, it was hopeless. She had already given up on the idea. Another day, she ought to advise Arno to do the same.