Chapter 195 Out of Control

Chapter 195: Loss of Control

When he heard the eunuch announce that the person had arrived, Zhou Zhan nearly lost his composure and rushed out the door.

But to keep up the Crown Prince's dignity, he held himself back, forcing himself to sit calmly behind the desk.

Soft footsteps echoed as Cheng Ge shuffled into the hall, his head drooping.

Seeing that familiar figure, Zhou Zhan’s gaze followed closely, the fingers holding his brush tightened almost imperceptibly.

The nameless fire that had burned within him for days seemed to settle oddly for a moment.

Cheng Ge shuffled into the hall, stiff and reluctant, each step heavy as if weighed down by lead.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest, the pounding making his eardrums ring.

With a thud, he knelt to pay his respects, his forehead nearly touching the cold floor, his voice carrying a barely noticeable tremble: “Your subject… pays respects to the Crown Prince.”

A silence hung over him for a moment, broken only by the curling incense smoke and faint breaths.

Cheng Ge could feel that gaze upon the top of his head, with a scrutiny that made his scalp tingle.

Finally, Zhou Zhan’s voice sounded… it didn’t seem as fierce—there was even a hint of awkwardness? “Rise… rise.”

Cheng Ge grew even more uneasy. Trembling, he got up, still keeping his eyes fixed downward, not daring to meet his gaze.

He could feel the Crown Prince’s eyes roving over him, sending a strange chill down his back.

Zhou Zhan looked at the head of fluffy hair below him. Today, Cheng Ge wore his crimson imperial censor’s uniform, which accentuated his fair skin.

His lashes were lowered, casting a faint, delicate shadow under his eyes.

Zhou Zhan’s gaze slid uncontrollably over Cheng Ge’s slightly pursed lips.

His fingers curled unconsciously, tightening around the purple sandalwood brush handle.

He cleared his throat, trying to dispel the momentary strangeness. His voice tried to stay steady but still revealed a hint of dryness: “Well…”

He paused, as if searching for words, “I… I heard that you were ill some days ago…”

Cheng Ge’s eyes shot up, then quickly dropped. What game was Zhou Zhan playing?

Wasn’t he here to settle accounts? Why was he asking about his health instead?

Cheng Ge answered cautiously, “Thanks to Your Highness’s concern, I have… already recovered fully.”

“Oh… good to hear.” Zhou Zhan seemed relieved, his gaze shifting away to the auspicious beast paperweight on the corner of the desk.

His fingers unconsciously stroked its patterns, “You… as a censor, working tirelessly for the state, loyal to the sovereign and devoted to the kingdom—very good.

Considering your hard work, I’ll reward you with a few things as a token of appreciation.”

Cheng Ge: “???”

Before Cheng Ge could react, Zhou Zhan raised his voice, speaking with a rushed urgency as if eager to finish, “Someone! Bring the set of ivory-tubed, purple-tipped brushes presented by Min Prefecture the other day, along with that She stone melon-ridge inkstone, and two bolts of Suzhou-made dark-pattern variegated brocade.”

Cheng Ge instinctively looked up at Zhou Zhan, wondering if the poison last time had messed with his brain.

Or maybe the gifts were meant to lower his guard, then strike him down in one blow? Damn! That’s some vicious psychological warfare!

“Your Highness, these gifts are too generous—I can’t accept them! I…”

“Just take them and don’t argue!” Zhou Zhan interrupted impatiently, his eyes darting around.

The young eunuch quickly brought in the rewards, laying them out in a dazzling display.

Cheng Ge could only force himself to thank the Crown Prince, but inwardly, his nerves grew tauter. He couldn’t figure out Zhou Zhan’s intentions at all.

Zhou Zhan looked at Cheng Ge below, and his mind uncontrollably drifted back to that night.

Watching Cheng Ge stand there with downcast eyes and a humble look,

The tangled worries that had plagued him for days seemed to ease a bit, but another, stranger feeling surfaced.

He spoke on impulse, his voice strained, “You… come closer.”

Cheng Ge’s heart skipped a beat. Was this it? Was revenge finally coming? He cautiously shuffled two steps forward.

“Help me… tidy up this desk. It’s too messy.” Zhou Zhan pretended to study the pile of books, but his full attention was on Cheng Ge.

Cheng Ge: “…”

Sensing something was off, Cheng Ge didn’t dare ask, and quickly cleaned up the desk with nimble fingers.

Zhou Zhan watched those slender, well-defined hands reach out, smoothly placing the wolf-hair brush into the celadon brush rest,

Stacking the scattered books in order, the faint breeze stirred by his movements seemed to stir the air around him.

He found those hands so pleasing, making his throat dry, his heart thumping.

Once the desk was neat, Cheng Ge stepped back two paces and said respectfully, “Your Highness, it’s done. If there’s nothing else, I… I’ll take my leave…”

“Wait!” Zhou Zhan called out, not wanting him to go.

He grabbed the nearest book, pointed at a random spot, his voice nearly cracking, “Here… I don’t quite understand this part. You used to be a Tutor—explain it to me again.”

Cheng Ge had no choice but to lean in once more, his gaze falling on the spot Zhou Zhan’s finger was pointing to.

A quick glance made him frown almost imperceptibly—

Zhou Zhan was pointing at the phrase, “When surrounding an army, leave a way out; don’t corner a desperate enemy.” The meaning was obvious, a basic military principle.

Though Zhou Zhan wasn’t usually a diligent student, he shouldn’t be ignorant of something so simple.

But Cheng Ge said nothing, keeping his voice calm and patient: “Your Highness, this phrase is from the ‘Maneuvering’ chapter of *The Art of War* by Sun Tzu.

It means that when surrounding an enemy, you should leave a gap to give them a way out, to prevent them from fighting to the death out of desperation. As for a cornered foe, don’t push them too hard…”

Zhou Zhan’s mind had long since wandered from the page.

As Cheng Ge leaned in, a faint scent of cedar mixed with pine soot from the inkstick wafted toward him.

It was different from the stronger, warmer scent he remembered from that night, but it still made his head spin.

He couldn’t concentrate on what was being explained, his eyes kept drifting from the page to Cheng Ge’s face.

His gaze traced the other’s contours—the fluttering long lashes, the straight jade-like nose, finally settling on those lips parting and closing.

Zhou Zhan’s eyes stared blankly. Those lips looked soft, with a faint, glossy redness, like peach blossoms in March.

As they opened and closed, the white teeth and soft tip of a tongue were faintly visible inside.

“This is the way of warfare, and also something to consider in governance and daily conduct…”