"It's just that the scene reminded me of something." Shen Weiwan nodded modestly, but she caught a glimpse of the door to the side hall from the corner of her eye. Shen Ruoruo's personal maid Xiaolian was hiding behind the door. Her face was as pale as paper, and her fingers were shaking as she twisted a handkerchief.
The poetry gathering ended on a sour note. Shen Weiwan climbed into Xiao Yu's ebony carriage, its wheels gurgling as they rolled over the bluestone pavement. Chuntao enthusiastically recounted Shen Ruoruo's embarrassing barefoot escape, gesturing and describing it: "Her socks were covered in mud, and her hair was disheveled like a ghost!"
"You," Shen Weiwan smiled and shook her head, looking out the window. In the twilight, Xiao Yu's profile was soft and his nose was as high as a distant mountain. "Why did you invite Wen Ziran here?"
Xiao Yu held her hand, his fingertips warm. "It was just that we met by chance in the Imperial Garden the day before yesterday. We mentioned the poetry gathering at the Imperial Tutor's Mansion, and Wen Ziran happened to be interested." He paused, a cunning glint in his eyes. "Who told a certain Second Young Lady to choose today to 'show off her talents'?"
The carriage drove into the general's mansion. As soon as Shen Weiwan stepped off the carriage, the old housekeeper hurried over, his gray beard shaking like dry grass in the autumn wind: "Miss! The second young lady is making a fuss in Ciyun Temple!"
"Oh?" Shen Weiwan raised an eyebrow and took the cloak handed to her by Chuntao, "She still has the nerve to make trouble?"
"That's right!" the old housekeeper said, wiping his sweat. "He said he wanted to return to secular life, and even smashed the jade jar in the Guanyin Temple! The abbot sent someone to report it, saying that if he doesn't stop, he will report him to the authorities!"
Xiao Yu chuckled beside him: "It seems that Miss Shen is planning to embarrass herself to the ninth heaven."
"Well done." Shen Weiwan tied her cloak tightly, a cold light flashing in her eyes, "She owes me more than just this one."
In the stillness of the night, Shen Weiwan stood by the window, gazing at the crescent moon. Shen Ruorou's farce was merely the beginning; next up was Li Xiu's turn. The lame scumbag was probably currently fretting over the rumors of his "gay sleeve" relationship, unaware of a bigger "surprise" in store.
"Miss," Chuntao said, bringing over some soothing soup, the steam shrouding the bronze mirror on her dressing table, "Young Master Li has sent someone with an invitation, hoping to meet you at Deyue Tower tomorrow."
Shen Weiwan took the soup bowl, the warmth of the porcelain wall ironing her palm: "Oh? He still has the nerve to see me?"
"They said they wanted to explain the 'Duanxiu' rumor." Chun Tao curled her lips. "In my opinion, they are desperate."
Chen Weiwan put down the soup bowl, walked to the desk, spread out paper and ground ink, a sly smile on her lips: "Urgent? Then make him more anxious." The wolf hair brush danced on the rice paper, and wrote eight words: "See you at Deyue Tower, we'll see you there." The handwriting was cunning, just like a cat playing with a mouse.
"Send the letter," she handed it to Chuntao, "and tell the delivery boy that I'm 'very much looking forward' to meeting Master Li."
Chun Tao took the order and left. Shen Weiwan walked to the bronze mirror and looked into her clear eyes. For the first time since her rebirth, she felt so happy - those who had trampled her into the quagmire were now chess pieces on her chessboard.
"Father, Mother," she murmured to the moonlight, "Look, I have stepped on them all."
Outside the window, a night owl cried loudly, but Shen Weiwan showed no fear. She knew that Li Xiu's fate would be even worse than Shen Ruorou's. She had already prepared the script, waiting for the drama at Deyue Tower to begin tomorrow.
At that moment, in the Guanyin Hall of Ciyun Temple, Chen Ruorou, her hair disheveled, kicked the incense table. The broken jade bottle shards pierced her foot, staining her plain monk's shoes with blood. She stared at the compassionate eyes of the Guanyin statue and suddenly laughed sharply: "Chen Weiwan! Xiao Yu! Even if I were to transform into a fierce ghost, I would peel off your skin!"
The nuns hid far outside the hall. The abbot sighed and ordered the young monk to report to the general's residence, her eyes filled with helplessness. But Shen Ruorou didn't know that every frantic struggle she made only added a more ridiculous footnote to Shen Weiwan's story. By the time her reputation as a "poetry thief" spread through the capital with the morning mist, her status among the noble ladies had been shattered more completely than the jade bottle at her feet.
Shen Weiwan extinguished the candle and lay back on the quilt, a confident smile on her lips. Tomorrow, at Deyue Tower, the teacup was already filled with the poisoned wine called "despair" for Li Xiu. And she was looking forward to that magnificent final performance.
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