After the chess match concluded and the victor was made clear to all, the large model board replicating the players' moves on the pavilion was removed. Preparations then began for the next competition—one of qin performance.
"A Qiao, who do you think will win this round?"
"Of course it must be Murong Lianyu. You're wondering why, aren't you? I've heard her play before. Though I wasn't present for the previous round, her music is exquisitely moving. Each melody conveys its emotions so vividly that it leaves one stunned.
Not only did she make it to the final round of the qin competition, she also advanced in the painting contest. What's more, I suspect she may soon become a candidate for the position of crown prince's consort. Even though she hails from a collateral branch, I heard that the Marquis of the Murong clan supports her."
"You're remarkably well-informed about others."
The conversation between the bespectacled young man and his friend drew the attention of three elegantly dressed young men. Though the two were whispering softly, the men behind them were martial artist, their senses far keener than the average person's.
The man in azure glanced over briefly before lowering his long lashes and returning to his calm silence. The man in black, standing behind, furrowed his brows in response.
Meanwhile, the refined young man in white, standing beside the man in black, seemed rather intrigued. He stared at the backs of the two ahead with a grin and nudged his companion, whispering:
"A Qi, how can she know more about my family than I do?"
Though dressed as a man, the two individuals ahead—a delicate youth and a sweet-faced man with glasses—betrayed their true identities the moment they spoke, for their voices were clearly those of women.
"Your family is ever ambitious. Others cannot help but take notice," the man in black, called A Qi, replied flatly.
"I, too, am curious who your family will choose—will it be the arrogant beauty, the charming yet irritating young miss, or perhaps the talented beauty from my household?"
The three ladies in question were all daughters of influential families within the imperial court.
"I am not him."
At that moment, the women in front resumed their conversation, naturally cutting short the dialogue of the two young men.
"A Qiao, who do you think will win the Battle for the Rotten Li Fish this year?"
A Qiao chuckled softly. "I can't help but laugh every time I hear that title. How did she earn such a nickname?"
"When I was little, I raised li fish(Carp). One day, he—or rather she—urinated in my pond, and all the fish died. I was furious and pushed him in out of revenge. I did it poorly though, and ended up grounded for almost a month."
The latter half of her story was whispered so softly that the man in white couldn't catch any of it—only the laughter between the two women.
"Where did 'Rotten Li Fish' even come from?" he nudged the man in black again, but received no reply.
Instead, the man in azure offered an answer, "She's likely referring to the second son of the Qi household..."
That explanation made the man in white pause before his eyes widened in shock, realization dawning.
"The Crown Prince!" he gasped, covering his mouth with both hands. He cast a glance at the petite girl with her pristine white face, chatting casually with the bespectacled woman.
"Whose daughters are they? To be so bold... and so odd."
No one answered, and his question faded into the sunlit breeze.
---
When the qin performance ended, it was met with thunderous applause and countless praises. The young lady bowed shyly in thanks and stepped down from the pavilion, allowing her opponent to take the stage.
As the two passed each other, their shoulders brushed as if by accident. Their eyes met briefly before they parted without another word, as though nothing had happened.
"It's starting!" A Qiao clapped her knees in excitement, eyes sparkling as she stared toward the stage.
"Wei Jiaozhu still can't keep her jealousy in check…" Li Wan'er shook her head with a sigh.
Wei Jiaozhu was a devoted admirer of the Crown Prince. In the past, Yan Feirong had often come to her residence just to tease her to tears—it was something he seemed to enjoy.
When Wei Jiaozhu discovered this, she began targeting her openly. But she never stopped to consider who she herself was… or who the other truly was. Though that girl had neither a mother nor strong backing, she was still a princess by title.
Even someone like Wei Jiaozhu had to gauge the mood of the Yan clan before acting. To insult her was to insult the Yan name. And Yan Feirong, proud of his noble dragon lineage and ever mindful of appearances, would hardly stand idly by.
To allow his younger sister—one who bore the Yan name—to be bullied while he stood by? If word of it spread, it would ruin his reputation. His half-sister understood this well.
Wei Jiaozhu, truthfully, was just a pretty-faced fool.
From that point onward, it was clear that one of the people Yan Feirong most disliked and avoided—was none other than Wei Jiaozhu.
A Qiao giggled, leaning close to whisper, "Surely you've given her a name too. What would you call this Miss Wei?"
Li Wan'er sighed. "What else? A sow."
The music began.
As Murong Lianyu played her third piece, many in the audience closed their eyes, silently absorbing the sorrowful, haunting notes—deeply touching and moving. By the middle of the song, the entire pavilion was lost in her melody. Only when her hands left the strings did people begin to return to their senses.
Silence reigned for a moment, followed by thunderous applause and praise that far exceeded anything earlier. Murong Lianyu offered a grateful smile and sat upon the stage to await the results.
Wei Jiaozhu took her seat on the opposite side. Attendants circulated, collecting engraved wooden flowers from the audience.
"Who will you choose?" A Qiao asked, then grinned before finishing, "Surely not the sow."
Li Wan'er surveyed the two women on stage. Sitting side by side, the contrast was stark. Wei Jiaozhu wore a pink dress embroidered with delicate flower petals—sweet and cheerful. Her face was delicate and charming, her skin glowing, with rosy cheeks that made her one of the court's beauties. However, her demeanor was spoiled and childish, like a willful noble miss.
To put it plainly—she looked rather dim, even if she might not be truly foolish. A girl like her could manage a noble household, but as a Crown Prince's consort? She'd likely meet an early end.
Murong Lianyu, on the other hand, wore a white gown layered with soft pale yellow. Her gentle appearance was complemented by full lips and a warm gaze. Though her skin wasn't as smooth as a capital-born noble lady's, she had a striking presence and grace. Her manner was composed yet humble, proud but not arrogant.
When Wei Jiaozhu intentionally bumped into her earlier, she remained calm and unprovoked—clearly aware of how to act in such moments.
A woman like that… was no ordinary person.
It wasn't long before all the wooden flowers were gathered and the votes tallied. The name of the victor would soon be announced, and all eyes turned to the scorekeeper.
A Qiao leaned in and asked, "Why did you choose Wei Jiaozhu?"
Li Wan'er smiled gently, "So she'd be less humiliated."
A Qiao raised her brows in confusion. But when the winner was announced—Murong Lianyu—she understood.
"...Because no one else would vote for her," Li Wan'er said with a smirk.
A Qiao nodded in agreement.
"I'd wager she only made it this far thanks to her father's influence. But this time, the judges were all young ladies of equal standing," Li Wan'er explained, unwrapping a pastry to snack on.
"No wonder… her playing really was just average."
On the other side of the stage, upon hearing the results, Wei Jiaozhu's expression turned sour. Glaring at her rival, she attempted to shove her in frustration—but missed entirely. Her hand struck nothing but air, and she lost her balance, falling flat on the ground in an undignified heap.
Though most in the crowd stifled their laughter, a few giggles escaped. Burning with embarrassment, Wei Jiaozhu fled without a backward glance.
"Don't ever act like her, I beg you," A Qiao muttered with her head in her hands. "She's the worst kind of villain—brainless."
Li Wan'er's eye twitched at that and cast her friend a side-eye.
At that moment, Murong Lianyu descended from the pavilion and made her way through the crowd, heading directly toward where Li Wan'er and A Qiao were seated. The two were so caught up in conversation that they failed to notice until she was nearly upon them.
They exchanged puzzled glances.
"Do you know her?" Li Wan'er asked.
A Qiao shook her head, even more confused. "No…"
Murong Lianyu merely smiled and walked past them, not saying a word. But then she addressed those behind them in a sweet tone:
"Lianyu greets Your Highness, Young Master Yan, Brother Baiyun. Did my qin performance meet your expectations?"
The moment those words left her lips, both Li Wan'er and A Qiao stiffened in shock. They dared not even breathe.
What were such high-born figures doing seated so silently behind them? And how much had they overheard? Sweat began to form on Li Wan'er's brow, despite the cool breeze.
A Qiao, who had been secretly observing the three men for some time, thought they were all strikingly handsome—but especially the man in azure.
"A Qiao, run!"
Before she could protest, she was tugged and dragged along. Li Wan'er went from walking to power-walking to near sprinting, like a mouse fleeing from a cat. A Qiao gave her a questioning look.
"We'll talk later. Let's go," Li Wan'er whispered urgently.
A Qiao couldn't help glancing back wistfully. What a scene they were missing!
As if Heaven itself took pity on her, the man in azure was now casually walking after them—not hurried, but closing the distance easily.
"Wait—! The Immortal is following us!"
Li Wan'er froze and turned, her face draining of color.
Why was he following them?
In her heart, she prayed that he would simply walk past.
The man in azure wore a calm expression as he walked by the gossiping duo, not even glancing their way—as though they were no more than air.
Li Wan'er breathed a sigh of relief.
But then, without warning… he stopped.
"Next time, when yo
u speak…"
In a deep, steady tone that revealed nothing of his thoughts, he spoke then turned and walked away, never sparing the woman behind him so much as a glance.