How could Jun Qingnian not be anxious? Watching the daughters of noble families perform in the hall, she, as a concubine-born daughter, could not step forward unless Jun Ning performed first.
In other words, if Jun Ning chose to do nothing, all of Jun Qingnian’s days of practice would be rendered meaningless.
“Second Sister, you… you can’t do this to me…” Jun Qingnian’s face showed panic, thinking Jun Ning truly intended to sit idle. Her reaction was exactly what Jun Ning expected, and it bored her. She rose and walked to the center of the hall.
Emperor Yongchu had not noticed her before, wondering why he hadn’t seen this girl today.
Now, suddenly, a young woman in red appeared. In his clouded eyes flashed a moment of astonishment, and when he saw her face clearly, he was even more surprised.
Jun Ning usually favored plain colors. Though beautiful, she resembled her mother—dignified and steady. But now, dressed in red, she was dazzling, adding a brilliance that caught every eye.
Not only did the Emperor think so. Even when Jun Ning had been seated, many had already noticed her. Now, standing tall in the hall, her red attire radiant, she drew murmurs of admiration.
“Your Majesty, I am Jun Ning of the Pingkang household. I pay my respects.”
“Mm, rise. Jun Ning, what will you perform?”
“Though unworthy, I wish to present a sword dance.”
Her words caused an uproar.
Xiao Moyuan, who had been resting his head with little interest in anything, suddenly lifted it, turning toward the sound. A sword dance—if only he could see it.
Jun Qingnian stared in disbelief at her maid Chun Hen, spitting out each word through clenched teeth: “How could this happen?!”
Chun Hen’s expression mirrored her mistress’s, kneeling beside her, equally at a loss.
“M‑Miss, I repeated your instructions word for word to Miss Shen. She agreed as well. I don’t know what went wrong.”
“Useless! Always ruining things!” Jun Qingnian was nearly beside herself with rage. Jun Ning’s greatest skill was the sword dance. Others might not know, but she had seen it with her own eyes.
What was Shen Qingtang playing at? She hadn’t tricked Jun Ning into dancing, and now all of Jun Qingnian’s painstakingly practiced zither pieces had no stage to shine on!
Was it that Jun Ning had grown clever, or that Shen Qingtang had grown foolish?
On the dais, Emperor Yongchu raised his brows. His eyes, usually narrowed from habit, widened slightly at Jun Ning’s words. “I have never seen a young lady perform a sword dance. You are truly unique.”
“Zhao De, bring a sword.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Zhao De acted swiftly. In moments, he returned from outside the hall and placed a sword in Jun Ning’s hands.
Jun Ning grasped the hilt and gave it a casual swing, the corner of her lips curving into a sly smile.
In her previous life, Jun Qingnian had struck first, forcing her into disgrace. Today, she would repay in kind, letting Jun Qingnian taste what it meant to be trapped.
“Your Majesty, I have a concubine-born elder sister. She has practiced the zither for days, intending to accompany me.”
As Jun Ning spoke, Jun Qingnian’s sense of dread grew stronger. Jun Ning would never kindly mention her—what was she planning?
Soon enough, Jun Qingnian realized exactly what Jun Ning intended.
“Earlier, I did not know there would be prizes. Now I wish to perform together with my elder sister. I only wonder if this breaks the rules?”
As soon as Jun Ning finished speaking, Emperor Yongchu burst into laughter. “Jun Ning, you never forget your concubine-born sister. Very well, since you ask, I’ll make an exception and allow you both to perform together. What do you all think?”
Everyone: “…” Since His Majesty had already spoken, what else could they say?
“His Majesty is wise!” the crowd chorused.
With the Emperor’s decree, Jun Qingnian, though suspecting a trap, had no choice but to bring her zither and join Jun Ning.
Jun Qingnian forced a smile as she stood beside Jun Ning, her voice dripping with false sweetness: “Jun Ning, what exactly are you trying to do?”
Jun Ning turned with her sword, leaned close to her ear, and whispered: “You’ll know soon enough, Sister.”
Straightening, Jun Ning cupped her hands in salute. “I must trouble my elder sister. Surely Sister knows *The Dingzhou Melody*?”
Jun Qingnian clenched her teeth, sat to one side of the hall with her guqin, and placed her hands on the strings. Music rang out while Jun Ning stood in the center, sword resting behind her.
*The Dingzhou Melody* carried a vast, majestic aura—it was a tune born of the army, imbued with natural grandeur.
Jun Ning twisted her wrist, the long sword spinning into a flower of steel, rising and falling with her movements.
Jun Qingnian was no pushover. Her playing suddenly shifted, sharper and more urgent.
Jun Ning anticipated it. She lowered her body, sword carving a graceful arc through the air. To the astonishment of the crowd, she leapt upward, toes lightly touching the golden dragon pillar. Borrowing its force, her body and sword became one, piercing the air with a ringing cry of steel.
In Xiao Moyuan’s pale eyes, a flash of red appeared—the figure of Jun Ning. Yet his gaze remained calm, without a ripple, simply fixed in that direction.
Behind him, Cang Ying’s heart twisted painfully at the sight.
“I remember that Prince Xuan once performed a sword dance here in the hall. Let me think, it must have been four or five years ago.” Prince Ding, Xiao Xinze, spoke to Prince Jing, but deliberately raised his voice so all nearby could hear—including Xiao Moyuan.
“Third Brother, your memory is sharp. I also recall Fourth Brother’s sword dance in this hall. His bearing was unforgettable. I only wonder when we might see him perform again.”
Xiao Yunjie sighed theatrically, his words outwardly wistful but clearly mocking, joining Prince Ding in ridiculing Xiao Moyuan.
Cang Ying was furious, ready to speak, but Xiao Moyuan raised a hand to stop him. He seemed accustomed to such barbs. His face showed no anger, only a calm reply: “In my current state, I fear I must disappoint Fifth Brother.”
Xiao Yunjie: “…” Xiao Moyuan had truly changed—he was even mocking himself now.
“Good! Excellent!”
Cheers rang out from the dais. Emperor Yongchu’s clouded eyes lit up, and he could not help but rise to his feet and applaud.
The military generals present were equally impressed, shouting their praise for Jun Ning from the heart. They were rough men who had clawed their way up through battlefield merit, and Jun Ning’s sword dance struck them as uniquely brilliant.
“Ah!”
Just as the applause subsided, a shrill female cry suddenly pierced the hall.
Everyone turned toward the sound. There, the concubine-born daughter of the Pingkang household, Jun Qingnian, who had been playing the guqin, was now sprawled on the floor in an utterly disgraceful posture, her head buried deep within her sleeves.
Emperor Yongchu’s enjoyment was spoiled. His eyes narrowed even further, a flash of icy killing intent gleaming within them.