The Prime Minister's Darling
Chapter 1167 - 1167 565 Late Night Warmth (second update)_3

Chapter 1167: 565 Late Night Warmth (second update)_3 Chapter 1167: 565 Late Night Warmth (second update)_3 Prince An looked at the paper in his hand and said sheepishly, “I just glanced at it.”

“No problem, go ahead and read it.” Xiao Hen entered the house.

Prince An pointed next door, “Is it… like this every day?”

Xiao Hen hummed a confirmation, “When Jiaojiao isn’t here, he’s like this.” Bathing is like going to battle.

Recalling how even in the next room he was disturbed to the point of a tingling scalp, Prince An could hardly imagine how Xiao Liulang managed every day.

Thinking this way, Xiao Liulang seemed to have it quite tough.

“By the way, what are all these?” Prince An asked, pointing at the stack of papers on the table.

“Arithmetics.” Xiao Hen replied.

“Arith…metics?” Prince An furrowed his brows in confusion.

Xiao Hen glanced at the paper in his hand, “What you’re looking at is the ratio calculation.”

Prince An’s expression turned even more perplexed, “Shouldn’t ratio calculation be done by the Circle-cutting Technique?”

He recognized the Circle-cutting Technique, clearly, this wasn’t it.

Xiao Hen explained, “This is another method.”

Prince An was still puzzled, “With these strange patterns?”

Xiao Hen thought seriously for a moment, “Strictly speaking, they should be considered another form of writing.”

Prince An asked, “Another kind? From beyond the Six States? The Turkic script?”

Xiao Hen replied, “No, the Turks use Jin Country’s script, with some differences, but generally the same.”

The origin had to be traced back to the ancestors of the Turks and Jin Country. Back then, it wasn’t Jin Country, but a dynasty many eras prior, supposedly a part of what was the Turks, which later became a separate tribe.

But there are also accounts claiming the Turks were a part of that ancient dynasty of Jin Country, a version recorded in historical texts. However, history belongs to the victors, so who can say that the chroniclers of that old dynasty of Jin Country didn’t modify the annals?

Curiosity piqued, Prince An set aside his pride and began to seek knowledge from Xiao Hen.

Previously, he would have never been able to swallow his pride like this.

Tonight… Who knows what got into him tonight.

Xiao Hen was never one to hoard knowledge, willing to share all he knew with anyone who sincerely sought instruction.

He started with simple numbers and gradually moved to basic formulas.

Prince An never knew mathematics could be so fascinating; it was like he had opened the door to a new world and stumbled right in.

And it seemed he understood why the students of the Guozijian and scholars of the Hanlin Academy were eager to learn from Xiao Liulang — he never showed off when teaching, always imparting knowledge people could truly comprehend.

It wasn’t until this moment that he finally realized Xiao Liulang didn’t get where he was today through connections; everything he had achieved was earned through his own talent.

“Why are you laughing?” Xiao Hen asked.

Prince An smiled, “I never truly admired you when you became the top scholar.”

Xiao Hen looked at him, “Do you truly admire me now?”

Prince An opened his mouth and then nodded, “You could say that.”

Xiao Hen put down the paper in his hands, seeing through to the essence with piercing clarity, “You can stay the night, one tael of silver per night.”

Prince An choked, “Cough, let’s not talk about money, it hurts the feelings.”

Xiao Hen said indifferently, “You can put it on a tab, with three percent interest.”

With interest?

Wait, how did he know I was going to ask for credit!

Prince An coughed lightly, “Which room will I be staying in?”

Xiao Hen flicked his finger nonchalantly, “Next door.”

Prince An’s face darkened.

He couldn’t lose face in front of Xiao Liulang.

“Let’s get it straight, I’m not homeless, it’s just that I couldn’t refuse your warm invitation, so I’ll reluctantly stay for the night,” he said.

With that, he strutted off toward the old Sacrificial Priest’s place, proud as a peacock.

The main house was fully occupied; there was only a small room left.

He maintained the pride and dignity befitting of a prince right up until he crossed the threshold.

When Xiao Hen left and casually closed the door behind him, he instinctively looked at himself in the copper mirror.

In the dead of night, there erupted a string of pig-slaughtering screams—

Ahh ahh ahh!

This beggar with a nest-like hairdo, a straw stuck in it, a face smeared with blood and dirt, his robe gaping open, and three tears in the sleeve wasn’t him!!!

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