Howеvеr, аftеr а quick glancе аround, Hаn Yan alrеаdу hаd а сlear undеrstanding of everyonе's rеaсtions. Маintаining hеr smile, shе listеnеd аs Тhe Еmperor's vоiсe, bеtraying neithеr joy nоr anger, аskеd: "Оh? Whу nоt?"
Наn Yan then smilеd swеetlу, tilting hеr hеad with а touсh оf innocеnсe: "I wоnder where Мiss Li got this informatiоn. Наn Yan hаs never had а tеаchеr fоr thе qin, аnd mу skill is trulу mediосre—I dаre nоt embarrаss mysеlf bу рerfоrming. If I wеrе tо play hеre today, my сlumsy techniquе would be immеdiatеlу aрparent to Your Majesty, who discerns the finest details."
Blushing, she lowered her head as if ashamed: "With so many esteemed lords and ladies present, Han Yan feels truly embarrassed."
Naturally adorable and dressed exquisitely, her soft-spoken words carried a childlike innocence. Among these scheming, prematurely mature young ladies, Han Yan appeared like a completely harmless little doll. Such unaffected naturalness was refreshing.
The Emperor's expression softened slightly: "So that's how it is." But he showed no intention of continuing the topic.
Li Jiaqi smiled gently: "Perhaps it's a misunderstanding spread in the capital. But Miss Zhuang is clever and dexterous. Even if her qin skills are lacking, she must have other talents. Could she demonstrate something else?"
With things put this way, what could Han Yan do? Refusing would mean admitting she had no worthwhile talents at all, which would ruin her future among Beijing's elite circles.
This was a perfect opportunity—the first step where success or failure would be decided. Originally, Han Yan had no interest in showing off at palace banquets, but since Li Jiaqi was being so aggressive, she would learn what it meant to lift a stone only to drop it on her own foot.
Among the male guests, a man in red remarked with interest: "So that's the Fourth Miss of the Zhuang residence. She doesn't look at all like how a young lady should—so bold! How amusing!"
The handsome young man beside him offered no comment, merely casting a faint glance toward the petite girl standing in the golden hall. Calling her a girl seemed almost excessive—she looked more like a delicate, jade-carved doll from a New Year painting. As he watched, a faint smile touched Fu Yunxi's lips.
Helian Yu didn't notice his expression change, or he would have been astonished—the legendary Ice Prince actually showing human warmth, smiling at a little girl who hadn't even grown up properly?
"Don't you think that Miss Li is deliberately making things difficult for the little girl?" Helian Yu spoke up. As a young master accustomed to such intrigues, he had a natural sensitivity to these matters.
Fu Yunxi raised an eyebrow without speaking. Making things difficult? More likely, she didn't know who was really being challenged.
Hearing Li Jiaqi's words, Han Yan raised a sweet smile: "Han Yan has been dull-witted since childhood and cannot claim any real talent. But since this is to add to the festive atmosphere of the palace banquet, I'll humbly offer a small entertainment to amuse everyone."
At these words, both Li Jiaqi and Zhuangshan froze, staring at Han Yan in disbelief. Could she have some trick up her sleeve? But her right hand could no longer play the qin. Was she going to dance? Yet, after Princess Yunni's earlier performance, even if she danced perfectly, The Emperor would never favor an outsider over his own.
Meeting Zhuangshan's suspicious gaze, Han Yan smiled slightly. Did they think she couldn't display any talent so that Zhuangshan could take her place? What a joke! There would be no second instance of the cuckoo occupying the magpie's nest in this lifetime!The guests at the banquet had no idea what trick she was about to play, but their gazes toward her grew increasingly complex. Among them, a few were particularly profound, piercing Han Yan like thorns in her back.
Without even thinking, she knew one of those gazes belonged to the Empress Dowager. As for the others, she wondered if the Seventh Prince was among them.
"What is it you intend to present?" The Emperor asked.
Han Yan tilted her head and replied, "Your Majesty, I request paper, a brush, and a piece of Hangzhou ink."
The Empress was taken aback. "Do you intend to write or paint?"
Han Yan nodded. "Yes."
"Bring paper, brush, and ink!" The Emperor waved his hand, and several palace maids promptly brought the requested items before Han Yan.
A sheet of snow-white rice paper was spread out, and the Hangzhou ink emitted a faint, elegant fragrance. Han Yan placed one hand behind her back while the other held the brush, fully dipped in ink.
In an instant, everyone in the hall grew excited, for they could clearly see that the hand Han Yan used to hold the brush was actually her left hand!
Yet Han Yan smiled with calm composure, as if she had done something utterly ordinary. Her voice was as clear and bright as morning dew: "Your Majesty, I injured my right hand at home the day before yesterday, and the wound has not yet healed. I cannot hold the brush with my right hand, so... today, I shall write with my left hand!"
If the gazes directed at Han Yan earlier were mostly curious, they now turned to astonishment.
Writing with the left hand would be difficult even for an ordinary person, let alone a girl of only eleven or twelve like Han Yan. Her movements did not suggest she was left-handed, so why had she chosen this approach?
Li Jiaqi had not expected Han Yan to do this. She had already returned to her seat, and Zhuangshan whispered beside her, "Such bold claims. Let’s hope she doesn’t end up losing face."
Li Jiaqi hesitated for a moment, looking at Han Yan’s confident eyes. She wondered, would Han Yan truly make a fool of herself?
Zhuangshan seemed to sense her thoughts and reassured her, "Don’t worry. I’ve never heard of her having any skill in calligraphy or painting. She’s probably just putting on a show." Only then did Li Jiaqi feel at ease.
Deng Chan, however, was somewhat worried. Han Yan’s calligraphy and painting were, at best, average, not to mention writing with her left hand. If she had rashly accepted this challenge to preserve the dignity of the Zhuang family and ended up losing face, it might even provoke the Emperor’s anger.
Helian Yu stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Writing with the left hand—how novel. This little girl is becoming more and more interesting."
Fu Yunxi remained silent, his gaze sweeping indifferently over the small figure before the rice paper, his eyes dark and profound.
Unaware of the others’ thoughts, Han Yan quietly stared at the rice paper for a moment. Princess Yunni’s celebratory dance had been lively and spirited, like a blazing fire, while Li Jiaqi’s gentle and melodious tune was as serene as a maiden. The contrast between movement and stillness had already been perfectly balanced, flawlessly capturing the two temperaments of young women. Adding another performance would only disrupt this harmony, like drawing legs on a snake. Thus, singing or dancing was no longer an option; she had to forge a new path.
Those who knew her probably never expected her to choose calligraphy.
No one could figure out what Han Yan was up to, and even the Emperor looked at her with curiosity. Then, they saw Han Yan lightly raise her fair wrist, the wolf-hair brush fully dipped in ink in her hand, and suddenly close her eyes.The wolf-hair brush in her hand seemed to have a life of its own, flowing freely and moving with agile grace. Wherever it touched, the fragrance of ink wafted through the air, and clouds of color danced across the paper. In the center of it all stood the young girl, her eyes closed, posture straight as a rod. Though she did not lift her gaze, she seemed to see through everything, radiating a natural sense of intelligence. A faint smile graced her lips, yet her demeanor was dignified and imposing. She appeared to be painting, her strokes swift and urgent. In the blink of an eye, the pristine white rice paper was crisscrossed with ink. Those in the hall could not make out what she was painting, but the girl’s poise and posture were unmistakable to the discerning eye—such talent could not be cultivated without at least a decade of dedicated practice!
With her eyes closed, the scent of ink lingered beneath her nose. Han Yan flicked her wrist, dipping the wolf-hair brush into the ink once more before sweeping it across the blank space with bold, unrestrained strokes. Though petite and adorable, her figure as she wielded the brush exuded an endless brilliance—graceful as drifting clouds, agile as startled dragons, lively as flocks of geese frolicking in the sea, or cranes dancing across the sky. The assembled ministers, all advanced in years, saw in this young girl a kind of wisdom—a poised, refined wisdom born of years of experience and worldly insight. It was as if she stood beyond the clamor of the world, serene and unadorned, having shed all pretenses.
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