Chapter 123: The Flower Viewing Gala (Part II)

An Yi was not intimidated by his reckless words. Her eyes darted as she asked, "If I were to scream, do you think the guards of the Princess's Mansion would come running immediately to capture you?"

"The security of the Princess's Mansion is very tight. If you screamed, they would indeed rush out at once. However," Lin Ximin smiled, unfazed, "you won't scream."

An Yi smiled, stepped back, and made a gesture as if she were about to call out.

"Are you sure you want to scream?" Lin Ximin narrowed his eyes and asked.

"Why wouldn't I?" An Yi raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you afraid that once they arrive, I'll tell them I admire you and only came here to see you?" Lin Ximin remained shameless to the end. "Your reputation would be ruined by then."

An Yi was not flustered in the slightest, her expression calm. "They won't believe you."

"Why wouldn't they? A fair maiden, a gentleman seeks. A gentleman climbs a wall to see a fair maiden—that makes for a romantic tale."

An Yi curled her lips in a cold sneer. "It’s a pity you are no gentleman. Moreover, if you truly admired me, you should have gone to the General’s Mansion, not the Princess’s Mansion. They would assume you are coveting the treasures of the Princess's Mansion and give you a sound beating."

Lin Ximin pulled out the fan tucked into his belt, opened it, and fanned himself gently. "When you put it that way, it does seem to make some sense. It seems I really can't use that to scare you. How about this: for the sake of Xiaobai, pretend you didn't see me, alright?"

"No."

"Why not?"

An Yi’s expression darkened as she said coldly, "Your nonsense has made me very angry."

Lin Ximin looked at her. "Then what must I do for you to forgive me?"

"Write a poem for me, and I will consider this matter settled." An Yi had been worrying about writing a poem; since a great talent had been delivered to her, she might as well make use of him.

"Why don't you write the poem yourself?"

"I can't," An Yi replied bluntly.

Lin Ximin was stunned. "You can't write poetry, yet you came to participate in the Flower Viewing Gala?"

"Could I have refused the Princess's Mansion's invitation?" An Yi retorted, annoyed.

Lin Ximin tilted his head and thought for a moment before asking, "Does this count as walking into a trap of my own making?"

"It does not, because I didn't know you would come," An Yi answered his question earnestly.

"Then was it a chance encounter? No, that's not right, it should be..."

"This is the path one must take to view the flowers," An Yi interrupted his rambling.

"What is the topic?"

"The Longevity Guest—the Chrysanthemum."

Lin Ximin chuckled twice and said, "Using the Twelve Guests of Flowers as a topic—Madame Min certainly enjoys making things difficult for people. The Longevity Guest Chrysanthemum, the focus should be on... Someone is coming!"

The moment the word "coming" left his lips, Lin Ximin had already vaulted over the painted wall.

An Yi pretended to be looking at the flowers nearby.

Two young ladies walked over from the other side, chatting as they approached. Seeing An Yi, they smiled and nodded.

An Yi smiled and returned the greeting with a nod.

Once the two had moved away, Lin Ximin appeared before An Yi again. "The north wind sweeps away the idle flowers and grass; it prolongs life and does not wither with the autumn light. A cup of immortal nectar toasts the fragrant clusters; the grand banquet in the Jade Pool celebrates the arrival of a good year."

"The north wind sweeps away the idle flowers and grass; it prolongs life and does not wither with the autumn light. A cup of immortal nectar toasts the fragrant clusters; the grand banquet in the Jade Pool celebrates the arrival of a good year." An Yi repeated the lines twice.

"Have you memorized it?"

"I have. Many thanks."

"It is my honor to serve a beauty." Lin Ximin gave her a flirtatious wink. Hearing faint footsteps approaching again, he dared not say more and flew away.

An Yi had solved the problem of the poem, but another difficulty remained: how was she to write it on paper? Her calligraphy was not exactly shameful, but it was a style of its own, bearing no resemblance to the Yan or Liu schools. If she had known this, she shouldn't have told Madame Min that she was practicing the calligraphy of Master Yan.

An Yi walked along, searching for a solution. She encountered two more young ladies on the way, exchanging polite nods.

"Sister An! Sister An!" Qing Rou’s voice came from the left.

An Yi turned to see Qing Rou walking toward her and smiled. "Princess."

"Sister An, where did you go? I turned around and you were gone," Qing Rou asked, pouting slightly as she reached her.

"I turned around and didn't see you either. Why are you alone?" An Yi asked.

Qing Rou hesitated for a moment. "I was with Zhuang Manru just now. She kept asking me about my brother—asking and asking, it was so annoying."

An Yi recalled the gossip Fang Rong had mentioned: Zhuang Manru was so infatuated with Qing Xi that she was determined to marry no one else. She smiled and said, "Perhaps she couldn't find a better topic and just used your brother as one. You don't need to be so angry."

"That's not it. She covets my brother, and I don't like her." Because of her illness, Qing Rou had almost no companions growing up; only Qing Xi had been by her side. She was extremely possessive of him and had never liked the women who coveted him. "Sister An, you are the best. You have never asked me about my brother."

"I have two brothers of my own." An Yi couldn't very well say that Zhuang Manru only wanted to know about Qing Xi because she liked him; she herself had no feelings for Qing Xi, so why would she inquire about him?

"Zhuang Manru has a brother, too," Qing Rou muttered, pouting.

An Yi did not want to continue this topic, so she changed the subject. "You've been looking at flowers for so long; are you tired? Let’s go back to the pavilion to rest."

"I am a little tired. Let’s go back." Qing Rou remembered something and looked at An Yi. "By the way, Sister An, are you writing a poem, a ci-poem, or painting?"

"Writing a poem." A thought crossed An Yi's mind. "Princess, I have a favor to ask of you."

"What is it? Tell me, I will certainly help you." Qing Rou agreed wholeheartedly, showing great loyalty.

"I ran into Huang Yuan just now, and she tried to strike me. I grabbed her hand, but used too much force, and now my hand is cramping and won't straighten, so I can't write." An Yi lied.

"Let me see your hand." Qing Rou looked concerned and reached for An Yi's hand.

An Yi extended her right hand, fingers slightly curled to create the illusion that she could not fully straighten them.

"That wretched Huang Yuan! Sister An, I will teach her a lesson for you," Qing Rou said angrily.

"Princess, please don't. Huang Yuan is a guest at the Flower Viewing Gala. As a hostess, you must treat her well. Don't let such a small matter ruin the event. If you want to teach her a lesson, there will be plenty of opportunities later." An Yi had seen clearly that Zheng Yun did not want any conflict between Qing Rou and Huang Yuan earlier.

"Next time, I will definitely teach her a lesson and vent your frustration." Qing Rou had been protected so well by her parents and brother that her likes and dislikes were very straightforward; she protected those she cared for.

"Good." An Yi had successfully resolved her two problems and was in high spirits. Once she got through today, she would go home and cram her literary knowledge.

"Let's go find a physician and look at your hand."

An Yi laughed, amused. "Princess, you forgot—I am a physician myself."

Qing Rou stuck out her tongue in embarrassment.

When they returned to the Mifang Pavilion, many young ladies had already returned from viewing the flowers. The three judges and Zheng Yun had gone to a private room on the second floor.

Some of the ladies had already begun to paint. An Yi and Qing Rou walked to a corner; An Yi recited the poem in a low voice, and Qing Rou transcribed it.

"I haven't been practicing the Yan style for long, and my calligraphy isn't very good. What should I do?" Qing Rou asked with a look of shame.

"You write very well. I haven't been practicing the Yan style for long either, and mine is not as good as yours." An Yi smiled and blew on the ink on the paper.

"Sister An, don't just say that to make me feel better," Qing Rou said.

"Why would I lie to you? It's true," An Yi smiled.

Qing Rou wrote the poem she had prepared on the paper, and the two went upstairs to submit their work. Back downstairs, they saw Zhuang Manru. Qing Rou gave a cold snort and turned her head away. "Sister An, let's go over there."

An Yi noticed Zhuang Manru biting her lip, her head lowered in sorrow. She felt a bit of sympathy for Zhuang Manru, who had been rebuffed and was now disliked by Qing Rou, but it had little to do with her, and she wasn't the type to meddle in other people's business. She walked to the side hall with Qing Rou to sit, drink tea, and chat.

A while later, Zhuang Manru entered, followed by Qin Baoyun and others. The small side hall became crowded. The Princess had invited thirty-five young ladies; counting Qing Rou, there were thirty-six participating in the gala.

A crisp bell rang again, signaling that half an hour had passed. Zheng Yun and the three judges returned downstairs. Madame Li announced the results: neither An Yi nor Qing Rou's entries had made the top three.

There were eighteen ladies who wrote poems; the top three were Zhuang Manru, Jiang Xinhui, and Lu Yinrang. Twenty ladies wrote ci-poems; the top three were Zhuang Manru, Min Bingjie, and Qi Jiayin. Seventeen ladies participated in painting; the top three were Jiang Xinhui, Fang Lanzhi, and Li Sixun.

Next, it was time for the ladies participating in the music competition to draw lots to determine the order, and then select one of the poems or ci-poems to set to music.

Sixteen ladies participated in the music competition, including Zhuang Manru. Besides painting, she had participated in three of the four competitions. Not only did she have stunning beauty, but she was also incredibly talented. Such a woman...

An Yi sighed softly. Such an outstanding woman would only make men feel inferior and keep their distance.

Huang Yuan drew the sixth lot. She chose the ci-poem "The Auspicious Daphne" written by Min Bingjie, and her instrument was the zither. Zhuang Manru drew the fourteenth lot; she chose the ci-poem "The Reclusive Orchid" which she had written herself, and her instrument was also the zither.

Based on An Yi’s own appreciation, she thought Huang Yuan’s zither technique was quite good; the melody was fluid, soaring, and very pleasant to the ear. However, Madame Min did not agree. "The zither playing is fluent and the fingering is skilled, but it lacks emotion. It failed to convey the mood of the poem. In the phrase 'a dream of fragrant soul,' one should use long notes here, so the lingering sound creates the sense of a dream. 'Dream of fragrant soul'—it is both dream and soul, ethereal. Miss Huang, to improve your zither playing, you must not only practice diligently but also possess exceptional insight."

Huang Yuan’s face reddened, and she stepped back.

Madame Min critiqued every lady after her performance, and soon it was Zhuang Manru’s turn.

Zhuang Manru’s zither technique was clearly a cut above Huang Yuan’s. The music was soaring, like a gentle breeze brushing against one's cheek, or like lovers whispering in each other’s ears in the dead of night. It tightly gripped the essence of "reclusion," leaving the listener intoxicated.

After the song ended, Madame Min smiled. "Truly skilled zither playing not only involves playing the piece fluently but also moving the listener to empathize and grasp the meaning of the music. Miss Zhuang is indeed worthy of being a personal disciple of Master Lin."

Zhuang Manru won first place in the music competition once again, with Qin Baoyun in second place and Liang Xiaoyue in third.