The autumn cicadas' chirping had nearly died down, yet it had stirred the hearts of the capital's powerful and influential. In Liu's boudoir, a gilded copper censer burned expensive ambergris, its smoke swirling as she adjusted the angle of her red gold hairpin before a diamond-shaped mirror. Fine lines appeared at the corners of the woman's eyes, her jade armor cast a cold gleam on her temples. The three thousand taels of silver bills, neatly stacked on the table, shone with an alluring golden glow in the candlelight.
"Madam, it's done." The housekeeper pushed the door open, her back hunched, beads of sweat still beading her forehead. She carefully placed a rosewood box on the table, her fawning smile deepening the wrinkles around her eyes. "Master Zhang accepted the money and promised with a pat on his chest that he would give Shen Weiwan a 'good question' for the finals."
A sinister smile appeared on Liu's lips, and she slammed her jade bracelet against the table. "What's a good question?"
"Write a five-character regulated verse on the theme 'Power and Intrigue.'" The old woman lowered her voice and leaned close to her ear. "Master Zhang said this topic requires both literary talent and parallelism, as well as court experience. That inexperienced little bitch will definitely make a fool of herself in front of the Emperor!"
"Okay!" Liu slammed the table, causing the foam in the teacup to splash. "Isn't Chen Weiwan proud of her ability to write a few doggerel poems? Let her use those slang words to write about political schemes! I want to see how she can save this situation in the Golden Palace!" Her eyes flashed with the fierceness of a gambler, as if she had already seen Shen Weiwan kneeling on the ground and begging for mercy.
Shen Ruoruo, who was standing aside, twisted her brocade handkerchief, her knuckles turning white, and a dark tide of jealousy swirled in her eyes: "Mother, this time I will make her lose all reputation and never be able to raise her head again!" She thought of how Shen Weiwan had repeatedly stolen the limelight at poetry gatherings and won the favor of the Seventh Prince, and her nails almost dug into her flesh.
Meanwhile, beneath the sycamore tree at the General's Mansion, Shen Weiwan was reclining on a soft couch, legs crossed, twisting a purple grape between her fingers, listening to Chuntao's breathless report. "Miss! Liu spent three thousand taels to bribe the chief examiner, Mr. Zhang, to ask the finals to be about 'political intrigue'!" Chuntao stamped her feet anxiously. "And it's a five-character regulated verse, which requires careful attention to rhythm and parallelism. Where can we get such a profound poem?"
Shen Weiwan slowly spit out the grape seeds, her eyes as cunning as a fox: "Power struggle? I know how to answer this question."
"Miss, can you do that?" Chuntao's eyes widened in shock, and the grapes in her hand almost fell to the ground.
"Of course I will." Chen Weiwan shook the hem of her lilac skirt, and the silver bells on her feet jingled. "Isn't it just Zhuge Liang's 'The Memorial to the Emperor on Leaving the Capital'? 'The late emperor died before his founding was halfway through,' wouldn't it be enough to just change it into a five-character regulated verse?"
Chun Tao was completely dumbfounded: "That's too... too straightforward, right? Will the Emperor like it?"
"Too what?" Shen Weiwan raised her eyebrows, sat up straight and moved closer to Chuntao, her fingertips drawing circles in the little maid's palm, "Too down-to-earth? Don't worry, this lady has her own tricks." She whispered a few words in a low voice, her eyes shining with pride when she spoke, which made Chuntao open her mouth in surprise at first, and then she laughed so hard that she fell backwards and even cried.
Three days later, the finals of the Royal Poetry Competition kicked off at the waterside pavilion in the Imperial Garden. Outside the white marble railings, withered lotus leaves swayed in the rain, while within the pavilion, the lights were ablaze. The Emperor sat high in the throne, his bright yellow dragon robe gleaming brilliantly in the candlelight. Seventh Prince Xiao Yu stood beside him, his dark brocade robe embroidered with soaring clouds and auspicious dragons. His gaze drifted repeatedly to the figure in plain clothes and a thorny hairpin below the stage.
Liu's mother and daughter sat in prominent positions in the front row. Liu was wearing a gold brocade skirt and her hair was covered with pearls and jade, while Shen Ruoruo was wearing a newly made pomegranate red skirt. The two of them looked at Shen Weiwan, who was only wearing a moon-white skirt and no makeup, and a contemptuous smile flashed in their eyes.
The chief examiner, Master Zhang, straightened his robes, cleared his throat, and raised his voice deliberately: "The final question for this poetry competition is to write a five-character regulated verse on the theme of 'Power and Intrigue'. The time limit is one stick of incense!"
The moment the topic was announced, the whole room erupted in an uproar. The word "power and intrigue" referred to the court, making it a taboo for a woman to write such a topic. Furthermore, it was a five-character regulated verse, which required both flat rhyme and antithesis between the middle couplets. Any inadvertent mistake could incur the wrath of the Emperor. Liu hid her hand behind her hand, chuckling, and nudged Shen Ruorou with her elbow. The mother and daughter exchanged a determined look.
Chen Weiwan, however, looked calm as she took the wolf-hair brush from Chuntao and dipped it into the inkstone. Chuntao was so nervous that her palms were sweating. She whispered, "Miss, are you really going to write as you say? Do you want to think about it again?"
"What else?" Chen Weiwan blinked at her, the tip of the pen moving like a dragon and snake on the Xuelang rice paper, the ink spreading on the paper, there was an indescribable elegance.
Seeing her writing so quickly, Liu felt a pang of fear, but she quickly felt relieved. What could a girl in the boudoir know about politics? She must have just been scribbling on the paper. Shen Ruorou craned her neck, eager to see the joke on the paper immediately.
An incense stick of time passed in a flash. Lord Zhang collected the manuscripts one by one, unfolding Shen Ruorou's scroll first. He spoke aloud: "Power and scheming hidden within one's sleeve, calculating the glorious years. White dew falls on the jade steps, smoke rises from the golden palace..." Though the rhetoric was ornate, it was filled with the boudoir's imaginary thoughts about the court, empty and meaningless. The Emperor merely nodded, his gaze fixed on Shen Weiwan's manuscript.
Master Zhang took a deep breath and unfolded the rice paper. His face instantly turned pale. He coughed twice and read in a trembling voice:
"The late emperor had a difficult time starting his business, and he died midway.
Today the rain falls in three parts, and Yizhou is so tired that it cries.
Prime Minister Liang bowed until his death.
Be close to the virtuous and stay away from the villains. This was the reason before the rise of the Han Dynasty.
Being close to villains and distant from virtuous people, the Han Dynasty will fall from grace.
Your Majesty should also carefully examine this matter and not be partial.
The palace and the government are all one..."
When he reached the line "Yizhou is so tired that he cries," Lord Zhang nearly bit his tongue. How could this be a pentasyllabic regulated verse? It was clearly a parody of "Chu Shi Biao" (The Memorial to the Emperor on Leaving the Capital) and a plain-speaking jingle, even with the slang "tired enough to cry" crammed in!
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