With the commotion finally settled, the atmosphere of the banquet grew truly lively.
Young nobles and refined ladies from various esteemed households engaged in spirited exchanges of poetic couplets, their voices overlapping, the hall abuzz with cultured merriment.
At this moment, Dou Ming had already made up her mind. If she could not, like her elder sister Dou Zhao, marry into the prestigious Jining Marquis Estate, then she would rather remain unmarried for life than lower herself to consort with any of these so-called noble sons.
Thus, though she warmly entertained any conversation from other young ladies—be it light chatter or poetic contests—she would turn a cold shoulder whenever any gentleman sought to engage her in couplet exchange.
Wang Yingxue, observing this behavior, grew increasingly anxious. She frantically sent Dou Ming sharp glances in warning. But today, for the first time ever, the usually obedient young lady openly defied her mother's silent commands.
This rebellious scene did not escape Wu Shan's eyes. He had, as of late, developed a fondness for Dou Ming. Yet each time he approached her, she responded with nothing more than cool indifference—an affront that wounded his pride deeply.
These self-proclaimed scholars often possessed narrow hearts. To be so thoroughly ignored by a maiden in public—Wu Shan felt his dignity trampled. With his thoughts spinning, he quickly formed a malicious scheme.
To offend the First Miss of the Dou family, now the Jining Marchioness, would be folly. And to target the Second Miss, who had already become the banquet's centerpiece, would bring undue attention. But her closest companions… now that was another matter.
"The Marchioness of Jining is the eldest daughter of the Dou family. Surely, her literary talents are no less than those of the younger sister?" Wu Shan's tone was sweetly polite, yet it veiled a hidden blade. "And Miss Miao and Miss Zhao, being her close confidantes, must possess no less refinement. Why then have the two of you remained so silent this evening?"
At this, both Miao Ansu—who had been silently stealing glances at Wei Tingyu—and Zhao Zhangru—who had been nibbling snacks in leisure—were dumbstruck.
What in the world? We've been sitting here quietly, neither provoking nor offending anyone. Why has this man suddenly set us in his sights?
"We sisters were raised in the countryside. We are not well-versed in the literary arts," Zhao Zhangru spoke boldly. Now that Dou Zhao sat at the host's seat, Zhao had become the spokesperson for the trio. Brash and straightforward, she had no patience for such contrived elegance.
As for poetry and pairings—who cared? She was here to eat, drink, and make merry. The rest could go to the dogs!
Miao Ansu, on the other hand, grew tense. She cast a furtive glance at Wei Tingyu, fearing he would show disdain. But seeing that his expression remained calm and unbothered, she exhaled a small sigh of relief.
Her heart's desire was simple—if she could follow her friend Dou Zhao and marry into the Marquis household, even as a concubine, it would suffice. But above all, she did not wish to lose face in front of Wei Tingyu. If he were to scorn her, she would truly be devastated.
"Miss Zhao jests," Wu Shan chuckled, surprised by Zhao Zhangru's unreserved honesty. Who would have thought she'd declare herself unlettered at a banquet? Still smiling, he pressed on: "It is the ladies who are the true hosts this evening. Might the two of you favor us with a couplet?"
"This man is insufferable! Why won't he just stop?" Miao Ansu muttered angrily under her breath, feeling her palms grow damp with nerves. The last thing she wanted was to be embarrassed before Wei Tingyu.
"Pedantic scholars are always the same!" Zhao Zhangru sneered. "Puffed up with their own importance, and when slighted, they brood like children."
Yet this turn of events pleased Wang Yingxue immensely. She had been seeking a chance to humble Dou Zhao, but the girl now stood protected beneath Wei Tingyu's public favor. Unable to act against her stepdaughter, shifting focus onto her companions presented the perfect opportunity.
With a sharp glance, Wang Yingxue signaled a servant. A maid quickly approached Miao Ansu with ink and brush in hand.
At once, Miao Ansu's face flushed crimson. Business came naturally to her—but poetry and prose were another matter entirely. The thought of humiliating herself before Wei Tingyu brought tears of panic to her eyes.
Seeing this, and feeling the warmth of wine loosen her restraint, Zhao Zhangru abruptly stood.
"Poems and couplets? Fine. I'll write one for you fools!" With no further ado, she snatched the tray from the maid's hands, leaned over the table, and began to write.
Dou Zhao, watching this unfold, couldn't help but cover her lips with a laugh. She had intended to intervene on her friends' behalf—but it seemed Zhao Zhangru had beaten her to it.
Knowing her friend's fiery temperament, Dou Zhao now simply sat back to enjoy the spectacle. After all, who in this room had ever come out on top in a war of words with Zhao Zhangru?
Before long, Zhangru finished writing. She balled up the parchment and, with a flick of the wrist, sent it soaring over the screen, where it landed among the men's tables.
A young gentleman in green, seated beside Wu Shan, picked it up and read aloud:
"A yellow-mouthed child herding in the northern fields—
Watches sheep, watches cattle, watches stars."
The hall erupted into laughter. The couplet was crude, even irreverent—certainly lacking the scholarly flair expected at such an occasion.
"I have a reply!" the green-robed youth cried theatrically, snapping open his folding fan with flair. "A black-cloaked thief skulks in the midnight hour—
Hugs, kisses, and dares to devour!"
Even before the crowd responded, he burst into uncontrollable laughter.
The room descended into raucous hilarity, while the Dou family—seated at the hosts' table—wore expressions of deep discomfort.
To have such vulgar verses spoken at a supposedly refined banquet was a disgrace to the house.
Dou Ming's brows knitted tightly. These so-called scholars? These refined sons of noble families? Not a one of them could hold a candle to her brother-in-law.
Her gaze drifted to her mother, Wang Yingxue, her meaning clear: You expect me to find a husband among this rabble?
Wang Yingxue was stunned. She had not expected such crudeness. Zhao Zhangru's couplet had been cheeky at best—but this man's response? Outright vulgar!
And the worst part? He sat beside Wu Shan, conversing merrily just moments before.
Could it be… Wu Shan himself was of similar ilk?
If such a man were to wed her daughter—then far from matching Dou Zhao's prestige, her daughter would become the family's laughingstock.