In the rear residence of the villa, flowers bloomed in vibrant clusters, and the young ladies had long taken their seats.
The elderly madams gathered with their daughters-in-law to watch opera performances.
Young maidens chased butterflies in the garden.
In the main hall's central seat.
The Grand Princess held Song Chuyu's hand, speaking with profound concern: "You and His Majesty grew up together since childhood, it would be perfect to strengthen familial bonds through marriage. Yet the Empress Dowager insists…"
Song Chuyu smiled without responding, thinking: If you have the nerve, say it louder.
Her aunt was not the Emperor's birth mother. When the Empress Dowager married into the imperial family, the previous emperor was already fifty, and her aunt never bore children in her lifetime.
"In my opinion, you two are most suitable. If you insisted, wouldn't the Empress Dowager comply with your wishes?"
Did the Emperor, seeking to assume personal rule, only come up with the idea of marrying the Empress Dowager's niece? As useless as ever, no wonder he was later replaced by Prince Qi: "Sister, what are you saying? His Majesty has always treated Chuyu as a younger sister."
The Grand Princess looked awkward: "Look at me, getting old, so old. Oh? Why is it so noisy outside?"
"Reporting to the Grand Princess, kites from the front courtyard have landed in the rear courtyard."
The elderly madams present laughed: "These children, they can't wait for even a moment."
The Grand Princess also smiled, releasing Song Chuyu's hand: "These are all things you young people enjoy. Go quickly and see if there are any kites you like. No need to accompany us old bones."
"The Grand Princess isn't old at all."
"Your words are so sweet, no wonder the Empress Dowager dotes on you. Even I adore you."
…
In the rear courtyard separated from the front by just a wall, various kites already covered the ground.
Some landed on tree branches, some among flower beds, while others were picked up by maids and neatly arranged on stone platforms for selection.
This was an old tradition of the Autumn Frost Banquet—Flying Wings.
Unmarried men would write unsigned poems or paintings on kites that would fly over the high wall for unmarried women inside to appreciate and critique.
Women could select their favorites and attach their silk flowers to the kites. Each woman held three silk flowers, and the kite receiving the most flowers would earn its owner the right to take home a pot of the King of Flowers from the Flower Sea Villa.
This was both an honor for the men and a testament to the women's taste.
Song Chuyu's arrival brought a momentary hush to the garden.
The women felt conflicted—afraid she would choose the ones they admired, yet equally afraid she wouldn't.
Everyone knew that although Anguo County Princess was self-assured and flamboyant, having been raised by the Empress Dowager since childhood, her taste was undoubtedly refined. If she didn't appreciate their choices, wouldn't that imply they had poor judgment?
Jiang Zheng bounced over cheerfully, with only two silk flowers remaining in her hand: "County Princess, have you seen any you like along the way?"
Song Chuyu helped remove a petal from her hair: "They're all quite acceptable."County Princess, you're being perfunctory.""
"More kites are coming over."
…
Cao Zhao lost sight of Lin Qingyuan in the blink of an eye and hurried over in panic: "What are you doing? You scared me to death." Understanding dawned when he saw where Lin was standing.
The ground was covered with diverse kites, with ink and brushes already laid out.
"Let's go, the new Number One Scholar has arrived. I'll take you to see him."
Lin Qingyuan didn't move.
Cao Zhao looked at the materials on the ground, then at him: "You're not—" He immediately jumped up: "I won't do it!"
Lin Qingyuan dragged Cao Zhao forward! "I dictate, you write."
Cao Zhao refused—his handwriting was embarrassing.
Lin Qingyuan didn't mind, having already pulled him over.
Suddenly, commotion arose at the Chrysanthemum Garden entrance.
Some people stopped writing, and discussions erupted intermittently.
"It's Kang Rui."
"Is that Old Mr. Yi with him?"
More people ceased writing to greet Old Mr. Yi.
Cao Zhao wanted to flee.
Once again 'invited' back by Lin Qingyuan.
Cao Zhao lamented bitterly: "Brother Lin, even the Number One Scholar is here. Anything I write would just make up the numbers. Besides, my handwriting truly doesn't do justice to your poetry."
Lin Qingyuan insisted, yet still glanced toward the doorway. Of course he knew this person—or rather, he had studied everyone participating in the imperial examinations.
Lin Qingyuan withdrew his gaze, ground the ink, and shoved the brush into Cao Zhao's hand.
Lin Qingyuan recited line by line, while Cao Zhao wrote miserably, his scrawl resembling chicken scratches and smudging in places.
Kang Rui stood among the crowd, as refined as jade, gentle and elegant.
Elder Yi looked at him earnestly: "Don't always focus on case files. Mingle more with your peers." After speaking, the old man entrusted his prized student to the son of his closest friend and departed.
"Respectfully seeing off Elder Yi."
Cao Zhao hurriedly finished the last few characters, his face turning ashen. Now all the women in Shangjing City would know his handwriting was ugly.
"Since you're the new Number One Scholar, your literary talent must be extraordinary," someone in the crowd challenged.
Kang Rui seemed not to notice the provocation, politely cupping his hands: "I dare not claim such praise."
Jiang Shizi of Changhou Manor was somewhat displeased; Kang Rui was his guest.
The speaker showed no fear—after all, everyone here was from noble families in the capital: "We have long admired Scholar Kang's brilliance. How about composing a poem to enlighten us?"
Just as Jiang Shizi was about to speak,
Kang Rui stepped forward gently: "I shall humbly display my incompetence."
Cao Zhao immediately glanced at Lin Qingyuan, deeply feeling his own attendant was outclassed by another's grace. Look at that one, then look at his own subordinate who dressed in drab gray and overstepped—simply no comparison.
Lin Qingyuan's expression remained indifferent: "Why look at me? Is the ink dry yet?"
"I'll blow on it right away."
Lin Qingyuan nodded. Cao Zhao had one virtue: he was obedient and knew his place. That was why he had chosen him.
Not far away, a new kite had already been laid out, brush and ink prepared.
A circle of people gathered around.
Lin Qingyuan also walked over.
Kang Rui lifted the brush, moving as if guiding dragons and snakes, his strokes sharp:
Fallen though I am, I wither not nor flourish,Aloof, overlooking abysses, steadfast against frost.I hide not in verdant realms beyond this world,Yet see the land embroidered with splendor vast.
"Excellent! Superb calligraphy!""Aloof, overlooking abysses, steadfast against frost!""I hide not in verdant realms beyond this world!""Marvelous poetry!"
Cao Zhao emerged from the crowd, utterly defeated: "Are we done for?"