Ji’an sighed. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest, which was still comfortably flat thanks to the artifact.

"Your Highness," Ji’an called out lazily. "Back so soon? Did you run out of people to annoy at the Guest Pavilion? And who is this? Your hired thug?"

The guards gasped. The maids stopped throwing petals.

To call the Second Prince a "hired thug"? That was treason. That was an execution-worthy offense.

Princess Ling’er looked ecstatic. "See?! See, Brother?! He’s doing it again! He has no respect for the Imperial Family! Kill him! Cut out his tongue!"

Xiao Yichen finally turned his gaze toward Ji’an.

Ji’an braced herself. She gripped the rolling pin she had instinctively grabbed from the counter. She prepared for a verbal battle, or perhaps a quick Shadow Step escape.

Xiao Yichen looked at her. His eyes scanned her face, the messy hair, the smudge of flour on her nose, the defiant tilt of her chin.

His smile deepened. But it didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes remained dark, observant, and disturbingly intelligent.

He took a step forward.

"You are Lin Ji’an?" he asked softly.

"If I say no, will you leave?" Ji’an retorted.

"Insolent!" The Princess screamed. "Kneel when the Prince speaks!"

Xiao Yichen raised a hand, silencing his sister instantly. He continued to walk toward Ji’an, stopping only when he was within arm’s reach.

He looked at the rolling pin in her hand. Then he looked at her face again.

Suddenly, he swept his robes back.

And bowed.

A perfect, ninety-degree bow of deep respect. A bow a junior gives to a senior.

The silence that followed was absolute. The birds stopped chirping. The squirrel dropped its nut. The Princess’s jaw unhinged and hit the floor.

"Xiao Yichen," the Prince said, his voice clear and respectful, "greets Royal Uncle."

Ji’an blinked. She looked left. She looked right. She looked behind her to see if General Lin was hiding in the pantry.

"Who?" she asked intelligently.

Xiao Yichen straightened up, his smile now tinged with amusement.

"Royal Uncle," he repeated. "Or perhaps, Little Uncle Ji’an. Since you are younger than me by a year."

’Uncle? Is he calling me an old man? Am I old? Do I look that old to people?’

Lin Ji’an was confused as she looked at Xiao Yichen with a dumbfounded expression, not being able to get what he wanted.

"Uncle?!" The Princess screeched. It was a sound that shattered glass. "Brother! Have you gone mad?! He is a cook! A concubine’s son from the Lin family! How can he be our Uncle?!"

Xiao Yichen turned to his sister. His expression didn’t change, but the air around him grew heavy.

"Ling’er," he said gently. "Do you not know the history of our Father, the Emperor, and General Lin?"

"General Lin is Father’s general!" Ling’er stomped her foot.

"General Lin," Xiao Yichen corrected, "was adopted by the late Grand Emperor. He grew up in the palace with our Father. They swore an oath of brotherhood in the Imperial Temple. They share the same cup, the same blood oath."

He looked back at Ji’an.

"By Imperial Decree, General Lin is the ’Iron Hat King’, a rank equivalent to a Prince of the First Rank. His children are considered honored kin to the Royal Family. Therefore..."

He gestured gracefully to the flour-covered chef.

"...Lin Ji’an, as the General’s son, is of the same generation as the Emperor. Which makes him... our Uncle."

Ji’an’s rolling pin slipped from her hand and clattered onto the stone floor.

’What the hell?’

She knew General Lin was powerful. He was known as the "Pillar of the Empire." But she didn’t know he was effectively the Emperor’s brother! The original novel never mentioned this!

’Wait,’ Ji’an realized. ’The original Lin Ji’an was so estranged from her father that she probably never knew. And the original plot focused on Wangchen getting revenge, not on Lin family politics.’

"So..." Ji’an pointed at herself. "I’m... your uncle?"

"Technically, yes," Xiao Yichen beamed. "Though, since we are in the Sect, we should use disciple ranks. But privately... etiquette must be maintained."

He turned to the Princess, who looked like she was having a stroke.

"Ling’er," Xiao Yichen’s voice dropped an octave. It was still soft, but now it sounded like silk wrapped around a knife. "You brought guards to attack your Elder? You insulted the son of the man who guards our borders?"

"B-But..." Ling’er stammered, pale with shock. "He... he’s just..."

"Kneel," Xiao Yichen said.

It wasn’t a shout, just a gentle whisper. But the command in it was absolute.

The Princess, terrified by her "gentle" brother’s tone, collapsed to her knees in the dirt. Her red dress pooled around her like spilled blood.

"Apologize to Little Uncle," Xiao Yichen ordered pleasantly.

"I..." Ling’er looked at Ji’an. At the cook. The person she called mud previously. Tears of humiliation welled up in her eyes. "I... I apologize... Uncle Ji’an."

Ji’an stood there, staring at the kneeling Princess. She felt a strange mixture of vindication and absurdity.

"Stand up," Ji’an waved her hand awkwardly. "This is weird. I’m sixteen. Don’t call me Uncle. Just... stop bringing noisy people to my kitchen. You’re disturbing the yeast."

Xiao Yichen chuckled. He signaled for his sister to rise. She scrambled up, hiding her face, wishing the earth would swallow her whole.

"Ling’er, return to your quarters. Copy the ’Book of Rites’ fifty times. I will stay and... catch up with Little Uncle."

"Yes, Brother," Ling’er sobbed, turning and running away with her entourage trailing behind her like a deflated parade.

Now, it was just Ji’an and Xiao Yichen.

The silence stretched.

Ji’an picked up her rolling pin. She looked at the Prince.

"So," she said. "You knew?"

"Father wrote to me," Xiao Yichen admitted, walking closer. He inspected the kitchen door. "He said General Lin was furious about something at home and might send his son to the Sect. He told me to ’look after’ you."

He turned his gaze to Ji’an.

"But I didn’t expect... this."