The upward gaze was uncomfortable, but when an elegant face came into view, Qu Zhan couldn't help holding his breath. "You… what are you doing here?"
After speaking, he lowered his head and turned away, already too ashamed and angry to face He Yunzhao.
Even the most foolish person would understand by now that he had been schemed against. Qu Zhan bit his lip tightly, his face alternating between green and pale, looking as unpleasant as someone dug up after being dead for half a month.
This couldn't be blamed on others—it was all because he had been arrogant about his talent and couldn't stand others being better than him!
Moreover, he had preconceived notions that he was the most knowledgeable among the young people at the Literary Gathering, and when provoked, he immediately believed that He Yunzhao had stolen his opportunity.
If he weren't such an arrogant and conceited fool, he wouldn't have fallen into such a situation now!
Qu Zhan was angry at himself, and even more unable to face He Yunzhao. Was he here to laugh at me? To return the humiliation?
He Yunzhao couldn't peer into his chest through flesh and blood. Seeing that he had turned away and didn't want to talk, she didn't particularly mind.
He Yunzhao lightly raised her right hand and shook her sleeve, her feather-like eyelashes slowly lifting. "I heard from Elder Qi that your parallel prose is quite good."
She watched as the head before her turned back, feeling rather amused. She said gently, "Today's banquet already has Elder Qi writing the preface, but adding a piece of parallel prose would be the icing on the cake."
"Everyone has left a poem or lyric. Wouldn't it be a pity if you didn't contribute?"
Qu Zhan slowly raised his head, cautiously looking up at He Yunzhao. A purple bamboo brush appeared before his eyes.
He Yunzhao said, "This is the brush I just used. Sir—" Before she could finish, Qu Zhan suddenly lowered his head, his face flushed red with shame and anger.
She glanced at her surroundings from the corner of her eye, chuckled softly, and was about to lower her hand when the brush was suddenly snatched away.
Qu Zhan's eyes were moist, his ears and neck completely red, all traces of his former arrogance gone.
"I'll write!" he shouted hoarsely.
The brilliant talent who had shone brightly was the center of the Literary Gathering. Having disappeared for just a moment, he was immediately dragged back by others.
He Yunzhao stumbled as someone pulled her toward the center, carefully answering questions about her recent study progress and understanding of classical texts.
Among the crowd, the young man's skin was fair and luminous, his eyebrows boldly arched, yet his demeanor remained humble. With a helpless smile at the corner of his mouth, he was pulled by the elderly scholars to write, then flustered as he repeatedly declined the precious seals they insisted on giving him.
Qu Zhan stood dumbly holding the brush, watching his retreating figure, almost spellbound.
Not until dusk fell did everyone reluctantly leave, the calligraphy treasures left behind naturally being claimed by the overbearing Qi Jun.
Once in the carriage, He Yunzhao wiped the smile from her face, expressionless. It wasn't an act—she was just tired from smiling too much during the social interactions. Weary, she removed her outer garment and leaned against the pillow in her inner robe.
Mu Yan, who followed her into the carriage, was still buzzing with excitement. Only under Cuiling's meaningful look did he settle down, though he couldn't control the smile on his face as he took He Yunzhao's hand, constantly rubbing and kneading it.
He Yunzhao: "…"
I'll never understand you straight men.
A push came from behind as the carriage slowly started moving. The noisy sounds gradually faded away, returning to quietness.
Mu Yan truly couldn't understand. "Why were you so nice to that idiot Qu?" he asked puzzled. "If not now, when would be a better time to crush him?"
He Yunzhao opened her eyes and, seeing Mu Yan's puzzled expression, explained: "This Literary Gathering is mostly held for Master Fang's disciples—the main purpose is to build their reputations."
With a shrewd gaze, she analyzed carefully: "When discussing classical texts, I also heard Elder Qi mention that Qu Zhan's parallel prose is quite good—at least among those present, his parallel prose is the best."
"To receive instruction from a great scholar and have Elder Qi persuaded to sing his praises, this young man has both deep connections and genuine talent. It's just that his temperament is a bit foolish, making him easily used by others."
Mu Yan slapped his knee, suddenly understanding. So Xiaozhao was adopting a magnanimous posture to polish her own image thoroughly. If anyone were to attack her in the future, they would appear as utterly petty villains. Any scholar in the capital who still cared about face would stand by He Yunzhao's side.
He couldn't help saying: "You're still the clever one."
He Yunzhao chuckled lightly. What kind of cleverness was this? She hadn't even revealed her real calculations yet.
Since Qu Zhan possessed true talent and learning, albeit with some impulsiveness, and she had already gained fame while maintaining a flawless image, why not see this goodwill through to the end? Offering a kind gesture cost nothing—just a few words, after all.
Mu Yan was still too naive, failing to grasp the true essence of hype! A rival is the best nourishment for generating buzz.
A young talent, fresh on the scene, being provoked yet maintaining composure to comfort his opponent—then the opponent, genuinely convinced, writes an article recounting his inner journey. What a perfect script!
As long as Qu Zhan's family had any sense, they would realize what a great opportunity this was. Only a twisty story could ignite everyone's curiosity.
Being a supporting character in her legend would be far more useful than mere fame achieved through conventional means.
But what if Qu Zhan still harbored jealousy and conspired with his family to suppress her?
Even better!
With those words she had spoken to Qu Zhan, she was certain they would haunt him, keeping him awake at night. In a fit of agitation, he might write an article attacking her.
The script would be equally perfect: a young scholar of impeccable virtue, magnanimous and unforgiving, yet still envied and repeatedly slandered, inevitably arousing righteous indignation and support from all who attended the Literary Gathering.
Whichever direction things went, she, He Yunzhao, would be the protagonist claiming all the spotlight—the absolute 'male lead' in top billing.
And if Qu Zhan took neither path? That would be fine too.
He Yunzhao thought to herself, those who debut with a blockbuster hit are few. She could climb step by step—rankings are ascended gradually.
These thoughts flashed through her mind in a mere moment. Meanwhile, Mu Yan had been chattering nonstop. When He Yunzhao finally looked at him, his eyes grew warm.
Having grown up together, he knew better than anyone how hard He Yunzhao had worked. Nearly ten years of study without a single day of slacking. He knew his own aptitude fell short, and even his efforts couldn't match hers.
But witnessing Xiaozhao shine so brilliantly at this moment, his feelings were complex and hard to articulate—both excitement for his dear friend's impending harvest from her hard work, and a faint sense of being left behind.
He Yunzhao reached out, crooking a finger to brush Mu Yan's cheek. She teased, "Don't worry, I saw it. When Elder Qi wrote the preface, he even included the part where you requested to grind the ink. Now you're someone with a name too."
As her words fell, Mu Yan's eyes welled up. He threw himself into He Yunzhao's embrace, burying his face against her fair neck.
"Huh?" He Yunzhao was surprised. Mu Yan was even a bit taller than her, so for such a large figure to throw himself into her arms was quite a challenge. She glanced down—their bodies weren't fully touching—and reached out to peel him away, but suddenly felt a warmth against the side of her neck.
Mu Yan was crying.
"What are you crying for? Did someone scold you while you were inside?"
A muffled voice came from her neck, "I'm happy for you."
He Yunzhao clicked her tongue. Mu Yan's habit of crying still hadn't changed.
When she was a child studying, she also found it exhausting. When it got too tough, she wanted to give up and cry out loud, but every time, Mu Yan would beat her to it and cry first.
Seeing the chubby little face covered in snot, He Yunzhao no longer felt like crying—it was too embarrassing.
She had always been extremely concerned about face. If her boyfriend were to cheat, her first reaction wouldn't be anger or sadness over the betrayal, but the thought that she had chosen such a person. Would others assume this was her standard? How humiliating.
It was this sense of self-respect and concern for reputation that drove He Yunzhao to keep pushing forward.
Her fair wrist paused mid-air. With a look of disgust, she patted Mu Yan's shoulder as a form of comfort. "If you get snot on me, I'll absolutely beat you to death."
Mu Yan remained silent, his sobs muffled.
How much influence can one poem have?
"Ru Meng Ling"—the stunning work of the Third Son of the He family.
Literati fond of bestowing elegant nicknames, filled with affection, gave him the title "Meng Lang."
He Yunzhao's pupils dilated in shock, but she felt relieved—at least it was "Meng Lang."