Peng Yuyan twisted her handkerchief awkwardly. She naturally didn't know that this was an allusion to the "Preface to the Lanting Collection," just as she didn't know that Jiang Yuyao was looking at not Yu Huanshen but the Prince of Xi, fanning himself by the stream.
"Forget it." Jiang Yuyao took her hand and said, "Have you memorized the 'Midnight Song' I taught you the other day? We'll have a poetry gathering later."
"Miss Jiang," a clear male voice interrupted. Yu Huanshen approached, holding a jade wine jug. "I just wrote a poem called 'Ode to the White Peony.' I'd appreciate your feedback."
Jiang Yuyao lowered her eyes and smiled faintly, her handkerchief clutched tightly in her sleeve. The poem was clearly the fragment of the one she had written on Xue Tao's paper last month. A glimpse of Peng Yuyan's bewildered expression suddenly relaxed her brow. "Mr. Yu's metaphor of 'jade bones and icy skin' is similar to Sister Yuyan's poem 'Ode to Snow' written the other day."
Peng Yuyan's face flushed instantly. She had no idea how to compose a poem about snow; yesterday she'd even misremembered a line from "Suddenly, like a night of spring breeze." She was about to wave her hand away when Jiang Yuyao winked at her. The stream reflected her beautiful eyes, like a deep pool.
Jiang Yuyao stepped onto the bluestones by the stream, her embroidered shoes crushing a few fallen petals. The noble ladies who once surrounded her leaned in groups of three or four under the wisteria trellis. Only Peng Yuyan stood up to greet them, her hair studded with royal jewels swaying in a way that was disturbing.
"Yuyao, come quickly!" Peng Yuyan pulled her to sit on the Xiangfei bamboo mat. "Just now, when the Feihua Ling came to the word 'spring', Sister Mei insisted on using 'Yulouchun' to start the theme..."
The eldest daughter of the Mei family slowly stirred the tea foam: "Last year at the Peony Banquet, Sister Yuyao used 'Spring is locked up with the two Qiao sisters' to contrast with 'Autumn is old and trapped in a lonely boat'. It was quite a clever idea."
It sounded like praise, but who didn't know that Jiang Songyi had ghostwritten the poetry for last year's poetry gathering? Jiang Yuyao clutched the winding branch pattern on the hem of her skirt. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the Qi family girl playing with the mutton-fat jade pendant Jiang Qingmo had given her—the treasure she had been begging for but couldn't get when she came of age.
Suddenly, a clapping sounded from the other side of the stream. The blue-clad students of Bailu Academy gathered by the winding stream. Yu Huanshen, waving a piece of gold-sprinkled paper, shouted, "Miss Hao, you've arrived just in time! What's the refrain for 'The spring breeze doesn't reach Yumen Pass'?"
"You should call me Miss Jiang." Yang Shuyin chuckled, stroking her armband. "After all, I've been raised in the Yongding Marquis' Mansion for fifteen years. How strange it would be to suddenly change my surname?"
Ripples formed in the plum soup in the icy jar. Jiang Yuyao stared at the golden peony on Yang Shuyin's skirt—it was the tribute satin awarded by the Imperial Concubine, a piece the Fourth Prince had given her yesterday.
"Miss Yang, be careful with your words." She pinned the lily of the valley flowers to her hair. "The elders in the Marquis's Mansion still call me Yao'er, but I wonder when it will be the turn of outsiders to criticize me?"
Yu Huanshen's Xiangfei bamboo tube slammed into the stream with a "bang": "That's right! Feihua Ling only cares about talent, why bother with family background!" The koi were frightened and fled in all directions.
Yang Shuyin's silk handkerchief was twisted into a knot. She hated Jiang Yuyao's aloof appearance the most. She was clearly a fake phoenix who had usurped the throne, yet the Fourth Prince fell for it.
"Speaking of talent—" Yang Shuyin suddenly clapped her hands, "I heard the other day that the Fourth Prince got a painting called 'Fishing Alone on a Cold River.' Sister Yuyao, would you be willing to write an impromptu poem on it?"
The streamside suddenly fell silent. Who wouldn't know that the painting was a gift from Jiang Songyi? Peng Yuyan tugged at Jiang Yuyao's sleeve, but was shaken off.
"Since Sister Yang has spoken, how could Yuyao refuse?" Jiang Yuyao dipped her brush in plum juice and wrote on the gold-sprinkled paper, "An old man in a straw hat and raincoat is fishing alone in the cold river in the snow."
Before the ink had even dried, the eldest daughter of the Mei family burst out laughing: "How dare you use Liu Zongyuan's poems to make up the numbers?"
"Wrong." Jiang Yuyao threw the poem into the stream. "Is this asking Sister Yang to emulate Jiang Taigong—" Her fingertips brushed across the phoenix hairpin on Yang Shuyin's temples. "Those who are willing will take the bait."
Yu Huanshen clapped his hands in admiration, his tea spilling. Yang Shuyin, furious, pinched her kodan into her palms. Just as she was about to explode, she heard the jingle of her rings and pendants. The eldest princess, supported by a court lady, sauntered forward, her skirt sweeping past everyone, who moved aside.
"What a wonderful 'Fishing Alone in the Snowy Cold River'." The princess picked up the soaked paper. "But the handwriting..." She glanced at Jiang Yuyao's trembling fingertips. "It looks like a copy of Su Shangshu's 'Lanting Preface'?"
Jiang Yuyao's back straightened instantly. She had indeed secretly copied the calligraphy in Jiang Songyi's room, which was covered with Su Sheng's annotations.
"Princess, you are wise." Yang Shuyin took the opportunity to attack, "The second young lady of the Yongding Marquis's Mansion is the best at copying calligraphy and paintings. Last year..."
"The poem 'Ode to the Orchid' at the Peony Banquet last year," the Princess suddenly interrupted her, "I remember it was written by Song Yi?"
The stream suddenly became turbulent, carrying the poem paper with it and rushing towards the Nine-Curve Corridor. Jiang Yuyao looked at the disappearing gold foil, as if she saw the splendid future she had carefully woven drifting away with the current.
The azurite tiles of the Peony Garden burned hot from the sun. Yang Shuyin, twisting her apricot-red handkerchief, stole a third glance at the Fourth Prince, fanning himself by the stream. Amidst the incense of agarwood wafting from the gilded incense burner, she heard Jiang Yuyao's clear, spring-like voice: "Miss Yang's beautiful words, may I read them to you?"
Peng Yuyan chuckled, the tassel of her silver hairpin swaying. "She, from the 'Spring' word card to the 'Moon' word card, she even used 'Bright Moonlight Before the Bed' to fill in the gaps." She deliberately raised her voice and said, "Didn't she just say that she wanted to win the first place in the aristocratic girls' competition?"
The gazes of the crowd pierced Yang Shuyin's temples, and sweat broke out. She had specially copied "Ode to the Peony" into her sleeve this morning, but the princess suddenly decided to play with the "Four Seasons." The paper in her sleeve felt like a branding iron, burning her fingertips.
"Miss Yang, since she dares to sit at the same table with the scholar from the academy..." Jiang Yuyao gently waved her round fan, the ink bamboo on the fan covering the corners of her lips and sneered, "I guess she must have had it in mind..."
"Why don't the three Jiang sisters come over and sit here?" Yang Shuyin suddenly pointed to the corridor. "After all, they are sisters connected by blood, so they should be of the same blood."
Jiang Qingmo tapped the teacup in his hand. They had searched for half an incense stick of time, even searching the fake cave, but there was no sign of Jiang Songyi. Hearing these provocative words, he felt even more annoyed: "Miss Yang, if you have the time, why don't you..."
"Ah!" Jiang Yuyao suddenly covered her mouth with her fan. "Just now, when we were crossing the White Jade Bridge, I seemed to see Sister Songyi chasing someone..." Her voice trembled just at the right moment. "Maybe I was dazzled."
The sound of the stream suddenly fell silent. On the other side of the river, the chess piece in the hands of the Fourth Prince dropped into the jade jar with a thud. Seven or eight noble ladies exchanged meaningful glances. Jiang Qingzhi suddenly stood up, her skirt sweeping over the gilded tea tray. "Sister Yuyao, be careful with your words!"
"Sisters, why are you so anxious?" Jiang Yuyao's eyes were slightly red, like a crabapple tree hit by rain. "I'm also worried that Sister Songyi will get lost. After all..." She looked at the pavilion where Su Sheng was, "This garden is full of twists and turns."
Peng Yuyan suddenly tugged at Jiang Qinghe's sleeve: "I remember now! Princess Songyi is wearing a gilded and jeweled forbidden robe today. If..." Before she finished speaking, Jiang Qingmo had already hurried towards the moon-shaped gate on the west side. Pearls were scattered on the bluestone slabs, gleaming faintly in the sunlight.
"This is..." Jiang Qingzhi squatted down to pick up the pearl, her fingertips stained with a faint medicinal fragrance. The calming sachet Jiang Songyi had made last month had exactly this scent.
"It seems the county lady has really encountered something interesting." Yang Shuyin hid her gloating smile with her handkerchief. "I heard that the young Marquis Su loves playing hide-and-seek with others."
Suddenly, a commotion erupted from the other bank. The Fourth Prince's attendant hurried over, bearing a lacquer tray. Inside lay a broken gold hairpin. The pattern on the head of the hairpin, a vermilion bird holding a pearl, was the gift bestowed upon Princess Jiaqing as a coming-of-age gift.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
