Chapter 25: Mastery of Poetry! Ruoruo’s Coaxing: Brother Changsheng, Teach Me, Please~ The dining hall was brightly lit, the table set with several delicate dishes. At the center was a large steaming bowl of fish soup, its milky-white broth exuding an enticing aroma. Li Yunrui personally served Li Changsheng a small bowl, carefully removing all the bones from the fish. “Try it,” she said, handing him the bowl. Lin Wan’er watched eagerly. “I want some too! I want the fish Brother caught!” Li Yunrui smiled helplessly and served her a bowl as well. “Eat slowly. Be careful, it’s hot.” Li Changsheng picked up a small spoon and took a sip. The broth was rich and sweet, the flavor of the fish perfectly preserved. It really was delicious. He glanced at Li Yunrui, who was watching him and Lin Wan’er with gentle eyes. In the candlelight, the sharp edges of her usual cold demeanor softened, replaced by a maternal warmth. Lin Wan’er sipped the soup in small, careful mouthfuls, her little face brimming with happiness. The three of them sat together—a family. The atmosphere was warm and peaceful. Li Changsheng knew this tranquility might not last. But for now, he cherished it. “Brother’s fish makes the best soup!” Lin Wan’er’s face glowed with satisfaction as she looked at Li Changsheng with sparkling eyes. She scooped up a spoonful of the milky broth, blew on it carefully, and then took a sip. The delicious taste made her narrow her eyes in delight. Li Changsheng smiled faintly at her adorable reaction and reached out to pat her little head. “I’m glad you like it.” “If you want more in the future, I’ll take you fishing again.” Lin Wan’er nodded vigorously. “Yes! I want to go again!” “But Mother says the river is dangerous, so Brother can’t go alone.” She turned to Li Yunrui for confirmation. Li Yunrui set down her jade chopsticks, her gaze shifting between the two children. In the candlelight, Li Changsheng’s expression was calm—far more composed than a child his age should be. Lin Wan’er, on the other hand, was innocent and wholly dependent. Looking at them, a corner of Li Yunrui’s heart seemed to fill with warmth. A long-forgotten sense of peace quietly took root. Once upon a time, she had pursued supreme power with single-minded devotion. She had been willing to sacrifice everything, even tying her heart to the Emperor of Qing—the man who sat upon the throne. But that love had been nothing more than another form of her thirst for power. Now, the time she spent with Li Changsheng stirred ripples in the icy lake of her heart. This boy—her nominal son—was unfathomably intelligent, yet occasionally displayed childlike innocence, like today’s fishing trip. This contrast inexplicably brought her a strange sense of security, despite the layers of ambition that encased her heart. The goal she had pursued all her life. The Emperor of Qing, that lofty man, had once been her shortcut to power, the twisted projection of her desires. Li Yunrui watched the young boy sipping his soup quietly. His features bore a faint resemblance to that man’s, yet there was a purity in him that she had never sensed in the Emperor. A thought, like a wildly growing vine, suddenly coiled around her heart. What if she placed Changsheng on that supreme throne? He was the Emperor’s son. And he was also her child in all but blood. If he became Emperor, wouldn’t she stand at the pinnacle of power as well? The idea made her breath quicken slightly. This seemed like a more perfect path. It would satisfy her hunger for power while allowing her to keep this boy—who had grown increasingly important to her—firmly under her wing. Li Yunrui lifted her wine cup, hiding the flicker of fervor in her eyes. Time flowed like sand through fingers, quietly carrying away the years. In the blink of an eye, Li Changsheng was now twelve. The small boy from before had grown taller, his childish features giving way to a more refined and handsome appearance. Over the years, he had grown up alongside Lin Wan’er and Fan Ruoruo. The three children had formed a deep bond. Lin Wan’er remained the clingy little follower, though her temperament had grown calmer. Fan Ruoruo, a year younger than Li Changsheng, was now an eleven-year-old girl. Her admiration for “Brother Changsheng” was practically written all over her face. The training grounds of the suburban estate. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground. Li Changsheng had just finished practicing a sword form. He sheathed his sword and stood still, fine beads of sweat rolling down his temples. His breathing was slightly labored, his chest rising and falling gently. Dressed in a fitted dark blue martial outfit, his posture was straight and poised—a young man coming into his own. “Brother Changsheng, here.” A clear, melodious voice rang out. Fan Ruoruo, holding a clean white handkerchief, hurried over to him on light feet. Rising slightly on her tiptoes, she carefully dabbed the sweat from his forehead. Her movements were gentle, carrying a hint of barely concealed shyness. Over the years, Fan Ruoruo had blossomed into a graceful young girl. Thanks to the pills Li Changsheng had discreetly provided, she was no longer the frail child she had once been. Now, her skin was fair and luminous, her figure slender and elegant. Dressed in a simple white dress, she exuded an ethereal charm—like an orchid blooming in a secluded valley. Her bright eyes were fixed on Li Changsheng, filled with undisguised admiration and dependence. Li Changsheng let her wipe his sweat away, his gaze lingering on her slightly rounded cheeks. In the sunlight, her long eyelashes fluttered faintly, her skin so delicate it seemed to glow. Fan Ruoruo was undeniably beautiful—lively yet tempered by a quiet, scholarly grace. “Brother Changsheng, that line you recited last time—’The mountains have trees, and the trees have branches’—what comes next?” Fan Ruoruo lowered the handkerchief and looked up at him, curiosity shining in her eyes. Over the years, Li Changsheng had occasionally “borrowed” poetry from his past life to tease this increasingly renowned young literary prodigy. Fan Ruoruo was naturally brilliant and adored poetry. Every time, Li Changsheng’s “astonishing” verses left her itching to know more. Yet he always gave only half, leaving her to agonize over the rest. Li Changsheng’s lips curled into a smirk as he deliberately played coy. He picked up a teacup from nearby and took a slow sip. Fan Ruoruo nodded repeatedly, her eyes brimming with anticipation. Li Changsheng set down the cup, amused by her eagerness. “Aiya, Brother Changsheng!” Fan Ruoruo stomped her foot lightly, her tone laced with a hint of coquetry. She stepped closer, tugging gently at his sleeve and swaying slightly. “Please, Brother Changsheng, tell me. I’ve been racking my brain over this for days.” Her voice was soft and sweet, dripping with coaxing charm. Li Changsheng felt a stir in his heart. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. He paused deliberately, watching as Fan Ruoruo held her breath in suspense. Then, slowly, he uttered the words: “My heart admires you, but you do not know.”