My Young Master Was Frightened Faint

His Highness the Crown Prince had never done the job of teaching someone to write before, nor did he have the patience for it. Xiao Hanye frowned deeply, swiftly running through all sorts of vicious methods in his mind. Silently reminding himself that there was plenty of time ahead, he swallowed his anger. "I'll teach you when I have time."

Shen Tingjue narrowed his eyes, disbelief written all over his face.

Xiao Hanye coughed twice and looked away. "I have matters to attend to. I'll be leaving first."

Shen Tingjue clutched his sleeve and refused to let go.

His Highness the Crown Prince gritted his teeth. "I'll take you to Drunken Immortal Tower for dinner tonight."

Shen Tingjue released him, smacked his lips, and said with deliberate refinement, "Such generous hospitality is hard to refuse."

The very picture of getting the advantage and still acting coy.

Unable to endure it any longer, Xiao Hanye bent a finger and flicked Shen Tingjue on the forehead.

Caught off guard, Shen Tingjue hissed in pain, covered his forehead, and stared wide-eyed in disbelief.

You actually had the heart to hit me?!

Having recovered a point, His Highness the Crown Prince felt somewhat better. He did not dare linger here and, with wind beneath his feet, strode away without looking back, afraid someone might catch up and pester him.

The first afternoon class was history. Most of the students sat in a loose, slovenly manner, chatting in twos and threes about flowers, birds, and beauties. Every now and then, a few lewd remarks popped out, drawing laughter that sent them reeling in all directions. Yet none of it affected the lecturing scholar at the dais, who sprayed spittle as he discoursed on ancient and modern times.

Suddenly, there came a thunderous bang, and splinters flew everywhere.

Young Master Xiang, who had been discussing which beauty in the pleasure quarters played music more sweetly, broke off mid-sentence. Staring at the desk before him, torn apart as though by five horses, he froze stiffly, his mind filled with only one thought: Who am I? Where am I?

The air fell into an eerie silence.

Standing above them, Shen Tingjue swept his gaze around the room, his expression indifferent. "Do none of you understand respecting your teacher and honoring the Way?"

When his brows and eyes darkened, a cold, ruthless air arose from nowhere, making people fear him for no reason at all. For a moment, he had everyone thoroughly cowed.

Xiang Cheng was the descendant of a noble family. Though he had always been arrogant and overbearing, at most he merely enjoyed mouthing off and waving his fists in threats. He had achieved nothing in letters or martial arts, knowing only how to put on a show and flaunt his power by relying on his status.

Now, faced with Shen Tingjue, who had shattered a wooden desk with one palm strike, he could not help feeling fainthearted.

With so many eyes watching, Young Master Xiang had to preserve his dignity. He stiffened his neck and confronted him head-on, pointing at Shen Tingjue with ferocious bluster masking inner weakness. "Damn it! You dare wreck my desk? Are you looking to die?"

Shen Tingjue said expressionlessly, "Disturb my studies again, and I'll..."

Xiang Cheng silently told himself he could not lose in bearing, then rolled up his sleeves. "And what?"

Shen Tingjue replied unhurriedly, "Go cry to His Majesty."

Xiang Cheng: "..."

Xiang Cheng's eyes went round as coins. Grinding his teeth, he finally forced out, "You win," through the gaps between them, then sat down in a huff.

Because of Shen Tingjue's threat, which did not follow the usual script, all the young dandies in Imperial Academy Hall fell silent. They no longer made a racket, though every one of them looked deeply displeased.

Cry.

Cry to your father.

Pretty boy who did not play by the rules.

If you had the guts, do not lodge a complaint before the Emperor. Come outside and fight one-on-one.

The history scholar was surnamed Liu. He looked refined and scholarly, and knew full well that he could not afford to offend this crowd. Nor did he wish to worry himself sick over their studies like Administrator Tao, exhausting himself only to earn no gratitude. Thus, he had always taught by the principle of "listen if you want, do whatever you please if you don't."

Experiencing such a quiet classroom for the first time, Scholar Liu opened his mouth. He did not even notice when the book in his hand fell to the floor. He stared blankly at Shen Tingjue, a deep respect rising in his heart.

As expected of someone with such a powerful backer—his presence was truly formidable.

Scholar Liu came back to himself, cleared his throat, picked up his book, and resumed his spittle-flying, sleep-inducing rhythm. After speaking for a while, his gaze inadvertently drifted toward Shen Tingjue. He saw him leaning back against his chair, a book covering his face, his breathing long and even as he slept like the dead.

Scholar Liu: "..."

Had he not said he wanted to attend the lesson?

As soon as history class ended, the hall became noisy again. The Fourth Prince wandered over to Shen Tingjue, pulled over a chair, and sat down openly. Setting two copybooks on the desk, he smiled amicably.

"Didn't Cousin say you wanted to practice calligraphy? I happened to have some copybooks left over from those I bought before, so I'll give them to you."

Shen Tingjue turned his head to look at him, swiftly searching his mind for information about this man.

The Fourth Prince, Xiao Jinhong, had been granted a title at the age of eight and invested as Prince Jing. His birth mother was Consort Xian, and his maternal grandfather was a Grand Academician who had served three reigns.

According to Shen Tingjue's father, this Prince Jing was a hypocrite who fished for fame. On the surface, he was generous and elegant, widely befriending guests and friends, with righteousness, benevolence, wisdom, and trust constantly on his lips. In truth, he was sanctimonious and reckless, with a belly full of rotten schemes.

Shen Tingjue glanced at Prince Jing's stomach, clicked his tongue twice, and gave him a meaningful look.

Xiao Jinhong: "?"

Shen Tingjue shook his head inscrutably, picked up the copybooks on the desk, and casually flipped through them. Then he suddenly discovered several dead spiders, motionless and stuck to the pages, bloodstains all around them. They were dead beyond all doubt.

Shen Tingjue remained calm and snapped the copybook shut. Yet the person beside him seemed to have gone mad, screaming as he sprang to his feet and stumbled several yards away. Not a shred of his elegant composure remained.

Shen Tingjue: "..."

What were you screaming for?

Hadn't you brought these to frighten me?

Xiao Jinhong's legs had gone weak. Supporting himself against the doorframe, his face deathly pale, he kept retching.

Several young noblemen who were usually closest to Prince Jing hurried to Xiao Jinhong's side and, in a flurry of activity, helped him over to sit down.

The Second Prince had never gotten along with Xiao Jinhong. Seeing this scene, he could not help pounding the desk and laughing loudly, full of gloating delight.

Aside from Shen Tingjue, nearly everyone knew that Prince Jing feared spiders. The only culprit Prince Jing could think of who would dare tuck dead spiders into a copybook to frighten him was Xiao Chongrui.

After all, he had a prior record.

Xiao Chongrui laughed so hard he rocked back and forth. From the corner of his eye, he saw Xiao Jinhong glaring at him through gritted teeth, his eyes seeming to say, You dare scare me? Just you wait.

Wrongly accused for no reason, Xiao Chongrui's anger flared at once. He slammed the desk. "What the hell do you mean by that? Do you think this prince was the one who scared you?"

The lingering pallor of fright remained on Xiao Jinhong's face. He coughed weakly. "This younger brother would not dare."

His voice was low and restrained. His hands clenched into fists, giving him the air of someone swallowing humiliation and seeking to calm the matter.

Among the students who supported the Fourth Prince, someone immediately could not bear it and stepped forward for him, making several sarcastic accusations. Naturally, those on the Second Prince's side could not stomach it either. The two groups began loudly quarreling, sending greetings to one another's parents and ancestors.

The scene instantly became a boisterous mess. Scholar Zhou, who had come to teach arithmetic, stood at the door holding an abacus, his expression calm. He was long accustomed to these two factions bickering and fighting from time to time. Their thunder was loud but their rain scant; after making a fuss for a while, they would part on bad terms, unable to stir up much trouble.

After all, beneath the Son of Heaven's feet, no one dared cause a truly serious incident. For such minor scuffles, the Chenghuan Emperor naturally kept one eye open and one eye shut, letting them carry on.

But this day seemed particularly inauspicious.

Scholar Zhou had watched the show only halfway through when he suddenly heard someone cry out, "Young Master! Oh no! My young master has been frightened unconscious!"

The two groups locked in a war of words instantly stopped and turned toward the sound. They saw Shen Tingjue, who had been perfectly fine moments ago, suddenly clutch his chest, close his eyes, and collapse without the slightest hesitation.

Having received their young master's blinking signal beforehand that he was about to faint, the two attendants reacted swiftly and caught him firmly. They howled at the top of their lungs with heartrending emotion, as though mourning at a funeral.

The sudden turn of events left everyone dumbfounded. They stood rooted in place, staring like stunned dogs, their heads full of question marks, utterly unable to make sense of it.

What the hell? The fighting had not even reached his side. How had he been frightened unconscious?

Hadn't he just been awesome enough to smash a desk with one palm strike?