As Shen Yue's melody came to an end, the audience was utterly captivated. A woman with exceptional musical talent would naturally be admired wherever she went, especially when she was also quite beautiful. At the very least, among the male attendees across the hall—excluding the too-young first-year students—many second and third-year youths had their eyes fixed in this direction. Though in the Hall of Extensive Learning, Qin Qing might surpass her in looks, Qin Qing's haughty temperament could never compare to Shen Yue's gentle charm.
"Your sister plays quite well," Feng Anning said grudgingly. "I wonder where she found such a skilled qin master. I’ll have to ask my mother to find me a renowned teacher too."
This was the age when competitiveness ran highest. Just as when Shen Miao had first been named Empress, she had been indifferent to most things—except when it came to guarding Fu Xiuyi's affections. The slightest hint of his favor toward another woman would send her into a frenzy. And in the harem, where schemes and betrayals were commonplace, she had been the type to retaliate immediately when wronged, earning herself many enemies. Now, though her temperament remained unchanged, she no longer resorted to self-destructive methods.
"Speaking of which, the Second Miss of the Shen family is truly a rare combination of beauty and talent," Prince Zhou remarked, his admiration evident. "What a pity."
What exactly was pitiable? Others might not understand, but the princes certainly did. Shen Yue was delicate, charming, and endlessly talented. To have such a flower by one's side would be a delight—were it not for the fact that she wasn’t born of Lady Shen, nor was she from the main branch of the family. Instead, she belonged to the third branch.
Meanwhile, Shen Xin, who commanded formidable military power, had sired Shen Miao—an utter incompetent. Even if she seemed somewhat different today, people’s impressions couldn’t change overnight. They believed her current composure was merely the result of coaching, and that beneath it all, she remained the same clueless fool.
After Gao Yan left the stage, Pei Lang gradually calmed down. This was the first time in his life he’d encountered such a situation, and though perplexed, he tried to reassure himself. Hearing Prince Zhou’s words, he couldn’t help but glance once more at the purple-robed girl seated among the female attendees.
She held a chess piece, tilting her head in thought. Though too far away to discern her gaze, he could imagine the scrutiny and depth within it—just like when Shen Miao looked at him. How could someone like that be an incompetent?
Yet people didn’t change overnight. Had Shen Miao’s past stupidity all been an act? And if so, why?
Even someone as astute as him couldn’t unravel this mystery.
The "Selection" for the women’s group concluded with Shen Yue’s "Ode to the Moon." Naturally, she earned First Class honors, yet today, instead of delight, she felt only humiliation.
She glanced at Shen Miao, who was absorbed in her chess game, paying her no attention. Shen Yue knew Shen Miao had no skill in qin, chess, calligraphy, or painting—her apparent focus on the game was nothing but a deliberate snub. Noticing her expression, Chen Ruoqiu whispered a reminder, "Yue’er, you’re losing composure."
Chen Ruoqiu demanded her daughter remain poised under any circumstance—whether genuinely or feigned—to project an air of grace. A woman’s elegance lay in her calm; flustered behavior was unbecoming of an aristocratic family. Objectively, Chen Ruoqiu’s methods were sound, and she herself embodied them well. Unfortunately, Shen Yue was still young, unaccustomed to failure, and had yet to learn restraint.
Heeding her mother’s words, Shen Yue reined in her resentment. Her maid, Shuxiang, handed her a cup of tea. "Miss, have some tea to soothe your throat."
Shen Yue accepted it, meeting Shuxiang’s eyes. The maid smiled knowingly, and Shen Yue’s expression softened into something more genuine. "It’s rather warm. I’m quite looking forward to the 'Challenge' later."
Shen Qing, having earned First Class in chess earlier, was in better spirits and chimed in, "This year, they’re not separating the groups by gender or year. The competition will surely be fiercer."
After all, the "Challenge" was the most anticipated of the three events. The "Drawing" might not pit the best against each other, and the "Selection" allowed participants to showcase their strengths. But the "Challenge" invariably brought the most outstanding contenders face-to-face. Among the women, these duels were less intense—young ladies preferred to maintain harmony and feign indifference to the results. The men, however, reveled in competition, eager to prove superiority at this age of heightened rivalry. Thus, the "Challenge" was always the most heated.
This year, the "Challenge" would mix genders and years, allowing any student to challenge another. Though in practice, cross-gender challenges were unlikely.
As expected, no one stepped forward for the literary challenges this year, leaving the martial events as the main attraction.
This effectively excluded most female participants. Though some daughters of military families were skilled in martial arts, women were naturally disadvantaged in strength compared to men, making success improbable.
Then, from the male section, Cai Lin strode onto the stage.
The examiner asked what he wished to challenge. Pointing to the mounted archery lot, he declared, "Mounted archery."
The audience understood. Cai Lin, the little tyrant, was hopeless in literary pursuits but excelled in martial skills—particularly archery. His arrows never missed their mark, and he had claimed First Class in mounted archery the previous year.
But who would he challenge? Scanning the room, no one surpassed him in this skill.
Cai Lin lifted his chin and suddenly pointed toward the female section.
A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd when they realized his target wasn’t among the men. When they saw exactly whom he was pointing at, their jaws dropped, and even whispers ceased.
He made sure to announce loudly, "I challenge her—Shen Miao!"
The purple-robed girl, immersed in her chess game, lifted her head. Her clear gaze met his directly, her expression unreadable, her movements flawless, as if this earth-shattering declaration were nothing more than a casual greeting—one she couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge.
Chen Ruoqiu frowned. She had devoted herself to teaching Shen Yue grace, yet Shen Miao seemed to have mastered effortless poise.
From a distant pavilion, a handsome youth sipping tea spat it out in shock, his usual carefree demeanor cracking. "Has that Cai boy lost his mind?"
Shen Miao stood. On the chessboard before her, a black piece had crossed the river, advancing toward her side.
The first pawn had made its move.
She picked up a white piece and, with a swift motion, captured the black one, tossing it into the basket with flair.
"I accept," she said.
Author’s Note:
Correction from last chapter: It was Shen Yue’s personal maid (╯3╰)
Tea Tea’s been busy with graduation projects lately, sometimes heading to school early, so updates might be irregular. But I’ll try to post by 7 AM when possible. Once the defense is over in a week, updates will be back on schedule. Thanks for your patience!
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