An early summer breeze, wrapped in the sweet fragrance of wisteria, swept across the waterside pavilion of the Taifu Mansion, vibrating the spiderwebs hanging from the corridor like harp strings. Chen Weiwan used a small gilded hairpin to pick up the osmanthus sugar cake on the plate. The icing crumbled into gold dust in the sunlight. Suddenly, behind her, she heard the crisp sound of folding fans clapping, more deliberate than Wang Lang's sour and scholarly movements yesterday.

"Miss Shen is so elegant."

She turned, chewing the soft, glutinous cake, to see a young man in a dark purple gown with a floral pattern approaching, waving a folding fan made of gilded clay. The pigeon-blood rubies inlaid on his jade crown shone in the sunlight, but his deliberately raised chin made it look like a piece of cheap agate. Shen Weiwan swallowed the cake and pointed at his fan with her frosted fingertips. "Master Liu, this gilded clay fan...did you just buy it on credit from the sauce factory in the south of the city? It smells strangely of aged vinegar mixed with soy sauce."

Young Master Liu's fanning hand froze, the fan bone brushing against his chin, nearly leaving a red mark. The ladies whispering among them suddenly burst into laughter. Liu Shi hurriedly covered her lips with her embroidered handkerchief, but subconsciously leaned towards Young Master Liu. "Don't blame me, Young Master Liu. My niece has always been straightforward and blunt in her words..."

"Straightforward?" Young Master Liu sneered, the plum blossom painting on the fan wrinkling from his grip. "I heard Miss Shen's poems about 'chamber pot' and 'spider web' amazed everyone the other day. I'm not very talented, but I'd like to ask Miss Shen to improvise a poem on the theme of 'willow branches'."

The waterside pavilion was suddenly so quiet that one could hear the plop of koi carp leaping from the pond. "Willow Branches"—this title apparently describes an object, but implicitly suggests that Shen Weiwan's mind, like Liu's, is entangled and calculating! Liu's hands, hanging in her sleeves, clenched quietly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Shen Ruoruo's knuckles whiten as she pinched her handkerchief. The mother and daughter exchanged a smug look.

Chen Weiwan blinked her sparkling almond-shaped eyes and looked in the direction Young Master Liu pointed. The branches of the old willow tree outside the waterside pavilion were wildly whipped by the wind, their messy silk threads sweeping across the lake, reminiscent of Liu's loose hair when she was throwing a tantrum. She suddenly clapped her hands and laughed out loud, "Willow silk? How difficult is that!"

When Young Master Liu raised his eyebrows, Shen Weiwan had already walked around the willow tree three times, her skirt lifted. The moss on the bluestone slabs rustled as she swept it. She suddenly stopped in front of Liu, her fingertips almost touching the upper of her shoes embroidered with lotus flowers, cleared her throat and said loudly:

"There is a willow tree by the roadside,

The branches are shaking.

New buds sprout in spring,

In summer, everything is green like silk.

The autumn wind blows and the trees sway.

In winter, the bridge is bare.

Huh?

Why does she look like my aunt?

From spring to autumn!"

The moment the last syllable fell, the pavilion fell into a deathly silence, then erupted into laughter. Young Master Liu's face flushed from crimson to a rosy purple, and his folding fan snapped shut, nearly breaking the ribs. Pointing at Chen Weiwan, his hand trembled, "You... what kind of poem is that! It's clearly a pretext for personal attack!"

"Attack?" Chen Weiwan tilted her head and wiped the frosting off the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief, but her eyes were like needles tempered with honey. "Young Master Liu, look at these willow branches. They sprout in spring, they're full of life. They provide shade in summer, they're useful. They sway freely in the autumn breeze, and they wither in winter, they're just their true nature. Why is it that when it comes to my aunt, she has to imitate the parasol tree, pretending to be noble, only to end up with withered branches and scattered leaves?"

"You're talking nonsense!" Young Master Liu was furious. "Poetry is about expressing one's thoughts. How can you be so blasphemous to the elegance of poetry?"

"Oh? Poetry expresses one's aspirations?" Shen Weiwan raised her voice as if suddenly realizing something, suddenly turned towards Liu, and recited in a rhythmic manner:

"When the sun is high in the sky,

Sweat drips onto the soil.

Who knows the food on the plate,

Every grain of rice is hard-earned."

After finishing the poem, she turned to Master Liu with a serious expression, "Master Liu, this poem talks about the hardships farmers endure in farming. Do you understand?" She suddenly turned her gaze to Madam Liu and said, "Aunt, when you withheld the monthly wages from the servants in the past, did you ever remember that 'every grain of rice is hard-earned'?"

The teacup in Madam Taifu's hand clanged against the table, and the surrounding noble ladies burst into laughter. Liu's face turned pale and red, and she wanted to bury her head in her clothes. Shen Ruorou was so angry that her whole body trembled, and her nails dug deep into her palms.

“Good poem.”

A cold voice echoed from behind her. When Shen Weiwan turned around, she saw the Seventh Prince, Xiao Yu, standing beneath the wisteria trellis. A few willow catkins fell on his moon-white brocade robe, but his eyes were startlingly bright. He looked at her, his admiration undisguised in his tone: "Miss Shen's poem is a thousand times better than those whining, hypocritical poems."

Young Master Liu raised his head abruptly: "Your Highness! How can such slang and village language be..."

"How can it compare to the artistic conception of your winter plum painting?" Xiao Yu interrupted him, a cold smile curling his lips. "I think that the straightforward comparison of willow branches to 'the tumult of spring to autumn' is a hundred times better than the melancholic winter plum painting on your fan. What do you think, Master Liu?"

Young Master Liu was choked to the point of turning pale. Seeing this, Madam Liu hurried forward to smooth things over: "Your Highness, calm down. Young Master Liu was just impulsive..."

"Excited?" Shen Weiwan blinked, and suddenly pointed at Liu's bun and exclaimed, "Aunt, look! There's a willow catkin on your temple - it's exactly the same as the willow strands just now!"

Liu subconsciously reached out to brush it away, causing another round of laughter from the people around her. Shen Ruorou could no longer hold back and screamed, "Shen Weiwan! Don't get carried away! If you have the ability, write another one!"

Shen Weiwan raised her eyebrows: "What title does my cousin want me to use? 'Aunt's Abacus Beads' or 'Cousin's Jealousy'?"

Shen Ruorou was so angry that her whole body was shaking. Liu forced a smile and pulled her daughter back. She looked at Shen Weiwan with a fake smile and said, "Wanwan, don't be angry with your cousin. Since you are so talented in poetry, why don't you write a more serious poem on the theme of 'Bright Moon' for everyone to appreciate?"

My dear, there is more to this chapter. Please click on the next page to continue reading. It will be even more exciting later!