In late spring, the breeze from the waterside pavilion of the Imperial Tutor's Mansion still carried the lingering fragrance of wisteria. The pale purple petals floated on the bluestone slabs, their delicate fragrance wafted by the embroidered shoes of the passing guests. Chen Weiwan had just silenced Wang Lang, her pearl hairpins still swaying gently, when she was surrounded by a group of gorgeously dressed noblewomen. Their silk fans fluttered like fluttering butterfly wings, and their cacophony of praise rained down upon her like shattered jade.

"Sister Shen's two lines just now, 'Cow dung can also nourish jade trees, and worn-out shoes can still step on the blue sky', are truly astonishingly brilliant!"

"That's right, Prince Wang's face is as green as the lotus leaves outside the pavilion!"

"Tell me quickly, how did you come up with such a wonderful metaphor?"

Shen Weiwan was jostled and swayed, only to smile and reach for the hairpin on her temples. "Slow down, ladies! My 'Double Lotus' hairpin is about to be pushed off!" The hairpin was made of South Sea pearls and red gold, with two pigeon-blood rubies embedded in the lotus center, gleaming softly in the sunlight. As she finished her words, she felt a gentle tug at her sleeve. It was Zhang Mingyue, the daughter of the Prime Minister's family. She had stepped back half a step to avoid damaging her jewelry.

Liu, hiding behind the rockery beside the Nine-Curve Bridge, watched the entire scene unfold. The brocade handkerchief in her hand had long since been twisted out of shape, its moon-white satin stained with sweat, and her knuckles as white as the white marble railings beneath the waterside pavilion. Beside her, Shen Ruoruo stood on tiptoe, her embroidered shoes impatiently rubbing the moss on the ground. A perverse flush of jealousy etched the corners of her eyes. "Mother, look at Shen Weiwan's seductive side, seducing me again! Why is she so admired by so many young ladies?"

"Shut up!" Liu suddenly came back to her senses, her voice as cold as ice. "Didn't you see that the Taifu's wife was watching over there? How shameful!" She stared at Shen Weiwan's charming smile, and suddenly her mind flashed back to the scene of catching this girl secretly reciting poems in the storeroom three days ago. She dug her nails into her palms fiercely, "She must have known in advance that there would be a poetry gathering today, and she recited some crooked poems on purpose to show off! I don't believe she really has such quick wit!"

"Madam Liu, you're wrong," a gentle voice came from behind her. Liu turned in surprise to see the Minister of Personnel's wife, Li. She was waving a round fan painted with a picture of a winter plum blossom, looking at her with a gentle smile. "Just now, Young Master Wang improvised the topic of 'cow dung' and 'broken shoes'. Those topics are so vulgar that even a man would have needed to ponder them for a moment. Yet, Miss Shen was able to answer them so quickly. How could such agility come from rote memorization?"

Madam Liu next to her also came over. She always cared for her clumsy son and nodded repeatedly at this moment: "Madam Li is right! If my boy had half the cleverness of Miss Shen, I would be willing to live ten years less!" Before she finished speaking, several familiar ladies around her couldn't help laughing, and their eyes were cast towards Shen Weiwan in the center of the water pavilion, and the admiration in their eyes almost overflowed.

Liu felt a surge of anger rushing to her head, yet she had nothing to say in response. She watched helplessly as Shen Weiwan accepted the sour plum soup handed to her by Zhang Mingyue and bowed to Madam Taifu. Even the usually solemn old lady smiled, beckoning her to come closer to talk. Shen Ruorou saw her mother's face turn pale and stamped her feet anxiously, "Mom! Think of a solution! If she continues to be so prominent, father will value her even more!"

Liu's eyes rolled around in her sockets, and she suddenly raised her voice. The sharp tone startled the sparrows on the waterside pavilion and made them flutter into flight. "Wanwan! After you finish talking to Madam Taifu, come and meet your Uncle Liu! He just got back from his duty at the palace, and when he heard you were here, he made a special detour to see you!"

The crowd parted at the sound, revealing a middle-aged man in crimson official robes, hands behind his back, strolling out. He sported a goatee, and the smile lines at the corners of his eyes concealed a hint of arrogance. He was none other than Liu Chengfeng, the Minister of Rites—Liu's biological brother. His hawk-like gaze swept over Shen Weiwan, from her slightly disheveled hair to the specks of grass dusting the hem of her skirt. A subtle scorn curled his lips. "I've long heard of Miss Shen's talent and fame. I'm honored to meet you today. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Chen Weiwan lowered her eyes to hide the sarcasm in them, but put on an expression of being flattered: "Uncle, please stop embarrassing your niece! My little cleverness is just like a blind cat catching a dead mouse. How can it compare to your rich knowledge and profound learning!" As she spoke, she even knelt down and bowed, and an almond kernel in her sleeve fell to the ground with a "click".

"Oh?" Liu Chengfeng raised his eyebrows, his goatee trembling slightly with his movements. "In that case, let's write a seven-character quatrain with the title 'old woman'." He deliberately emphasized the word "old woman" and glanced vaguely at Liu's slightly fat waist. The meaning was obvious - he wanted to see if this girl dared to make fun of her own aunt.

The air around them froze instantly; even the ripples on the water seemed to stop. Hiding behind another rockery, Seventh Prince Xiao Yu, fiddling with his Biluochun teacup with the lid, nearly burst out laughing upon hearing this, quickly covering his mouth with his sleeve. The guard beside him, Mo Shu, whispered a warning, "Your Highness, if you laugh again, the tea will come out of your nostrils."

"Nosy." Xiao Yu glared at him, but couldn't help but stick his head out again. His eyes seemed to be glued to Shen Weiwan, and he didn't even notice that the teacup in his hand tilted a little.

Shen Weiwan blinked her sparkling almond-shaped eyes, and suddenly clapped her hands. The crisp sound startled the wind chimes under the eaves: "'Old woman'? How difficult is that—" She cleared her throat, and her voice suddenly rose, with a bit of the clarity unique to young people:

"The thread in the hand of a loving mother,

The clothes on the wanderer's body.

Sewing tightly before leaving,

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