When the tune ended, Shen Yunshu rose to her feet and performed a graceful bow.
Compared to Cao Haiyue’s earlier salute, this one was far more poised and proper.
As the final note faded, the entire hall was left in awe.
“What a wonderful piece! To compose both melody and lyrics in the time it takes to drink a cup of tea—its style is gentle and elegant, and the lyrics flow smoothly with perfect rhyme. Yunshu truly lives up to the title of being both talented and beautiful,” Wen Peihan said, clapping enthusiastically, her face filled with pride as if it were her own achievement.
Li Xiangyi’s expression, however, turned ugly. She had wanted Shen Yunshu to embarrass herself, not to steal the spotlight. She refused to believe that this piece had been composed on the spot.
“Hmph. A tune this polished, complete with lyrics, and you claim it was just written? That’s rather far-fetched.”
“I, too, enjoy music,” Zuo Yuxuan said in rebuttal. “Of the popular compositions in our dynasty, I’ve heard eight or nine out of ten. Yet I have never encountered this song. Such a beautiful piece would never remain unknown if it had been written earlier. There is only one explanation—it is newly composed.”
After speaking, he gently closed his eyes, as though still savoring the melody.
County Princess Xiangyi was about to retort when the maid beside her tugged at her sleeve and whispered a reminder: the one who had just spoken was Zuo Yuxuan, the eldest legitimate grandson of the Left Chancellor.
Li Xiangyi was not foolish. It was obvious that Shen Yunshu was far more popular here than she was. Before coming to the capital, her father had warned her not to go too far—this was the emperor’s seat, not Yunzhou. Offending both the Zhenbei Prince’s residence and the Left Chancellor’s household, two towering powers of the capital, would bring her father no good consequences either.
In truth, she was merely unwilling to accept that Shen Yunshu was competing with her for the title of “talented lady.” Her looks were average—among the imperial clan and nobility, she could only be considered passable. Since she couldn’t boast about beauty, she could only emphasize talent. After all, for women, these were the two aspects that drew the most attention.
She simply hadn’t expected the capital to be a place where hidden talents abounded. This was not Yunzhou, where everyone gave her face out of respect for her father.
In the end, Li Xiangyi could only swallow her resentment and remain silent.
“Red gauze skirts, golden round fans, rouge parasols—these are common accessories for women. Green bamboo flutes, jade pendants, white jade crowns—these are often seen on men. Setting women’s ornaments against men’s creates a novel contrast.
“Spring snow reflects the slanting sun; petals fall into clear streams. Withered trees sprout new buds; an old man trades wine for coins. New and old coexist, all brimming with the vitality of spring.
“Green mountains stand ever present; morning mist and drifting clouds. Evening winds brush the face; raindrops tap the eaves. Morning mist and evening wind—early and late; mountains and rain—still scenes of spring.”
The Crown Prince finished his commentary on Shen Yunshu’s composition, then rose and gave her a scholar’s salute.
A scholar’s salute was a gesture reserved among scholars, offered to respected peers or those whose learning one acknowledged.
Although Shen Yunshu, separated by a screen, did not notice the Crown Prince’s movement, everyone on the men’s side saw it clearly.
Many minds began racing. Some thought the Crown Prince truly possessed the temperament of a gentleman-scholar, willing to honor talent wherever he found it. Others believed he was merely putting on a show of humility to attract capable people, without sincere intent. Still others felt he was elevating Shen Yunshu because of the Zhenbei Prince’s household, hoping to secure their firm support.
For instance, the Second Prince, Li Yuanshen, merely snorted inwardly when he saw this. He felt that his elder brother truly understood what their father favored and was always adept at putting on a performance before outsiders to win the emperor’s approval.
“Yunshu, this piece is exceptionally well done. Does it have a name?” the Crown Prince asked, seemingly unconcerned with what others thought.
“Your Highness flatters me,” Shen Yunshu replied, rising and returning a restrained bow. “It was composed on impulse, and I haven’t had time to name it yet.”
“Do you have any ideas?”
Shen Yunshu paused. Naming it—now that was the real challenge. Compared to writing poetry, she was terrible at coming up with titles.
“Since it was composed at the Spring Qionghua Banquet, perhaps we can simply call it ‘Spring Banquet.’”
The Crown Prince considered it briefly and nodded. “With both men and women present, and every line describing spring, ‘Spring Banquet’ is indeed a fitting name.”
Shen Yunshu offered a polite, official smile, her expression clearly saying, Whatever makes you happy.
“‘A youth hidden among bamboo groves, a flute’s melody lulling him to sleep’—so this is your ideal type?” Wen Peihan teased softly after Shen Yunshu sat down, covering her mouth with her hand and leaning closer, her face alight with the joy of discovering a secret.
Needless to say, the term “ideal type” was also something she had learned from Shen Yunshu.
Shen Yunshu sighed helplessly. If she said she had really only written it that way for the rhyme, would anyone believe her?
At that moment, Le’an reached into the jar again and pulled out another slip of paper.
“Yan Jinshu!”
As her voice fell, a tall, powerfully built man—eight chi in height, imposing and heroic—stood up from the men’s side and bowed toward Le’an.
“This humble servant is unskilled in refined arts such as music, chess, calligraphy, or painting. I am only passable in martial skills. I ask that Your Highness grant permission for me to perform a sword dance.”
Qionghua Terrace was located within the inner palace. Any external official entering the inner court was required to remove their sword, so Yan Jinshu needed Le’an’s permission to retrieve it.
Le’an nodded and ordered someone to return Yan Jinshu’s sword.
Sword in hand, Yan Jinshu closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, his aura had completely changed.
His steps were light and precise. Though there was no music, his movements carried their own rhythm. One hand tucked behind his back, he raised the sword and struck—silver light flashed, swift as a gale scattering fallen leaves. Wherever the sword light passed, petals burst apart, riding the wind and dancing through the air, lingering before finally falling.
“Yan Jinshu’s martial style is bold and expansive. Judging from his techniques, he is clearly an upright and forthright man,” Le’an said in admiration. “I’ve heard that Minister Yan of the Ministry of Justice was once the top martial scholar of his year. It seems Yan Jinshu truly carries much of his father’s bearing. If I had only heard his name and not seen him wield a sword, I would have thought him a frail scholar.”
“I heard that Minister Yan always wanted to raise a son devoted to literary pursuits, which is why he named him ‘Jinshu,’” Shen Yunshu added. “But Minister Yan’s genes were simply too strong. Once grown, his son still leaned toward martial arts—and proved quite talented at it.”
Le’an nodded in sudden understanding. She had no idea what “genes” were, but she had long since grown used to Shen Yunshu occasionally blurting out novel terms and no longer bothered to ask.
After Yan Jinshu, several more rounds followed, and the banquet concluded before nightfall.
The young ladies and gentlemen of the various households each displayed their talents. Though nothing was particularly groundbreaking, it was all quite pleasing to the eye.
Everyone arrived in high spirits and left thoroughly satisfied.
Those who had found clear targets during the banquet hurried home especially quickly, eager to discuss matters with their families and arrange for matchmakers to discreetly inquire—should a marriage alliance be possible, it would be a joy for both sides.
As for the very few who left dissatisfied, no one paid them any mind.