The grubby piece of parchment slipped from Yan Zheyun's listless fingers and back onto the mahogany top of his study desk. He allowed himself a moment of weakness as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose and remind himself for the nth time that if he could drag Lixin kicking and screaming through high school physics, he could conquer anything.
But…
His eyes drifted back to the black splotchy writing that was sloppy even for a ten-year-old, let alone one that had been raised rigorously as a prince and apparently the secret heir apparent. Looking back at copies of Liu An's previous work, which, while containing the immature views of a young child was at least done conscientiously, this was a serious setback.
