Zhuo Qing followed behind Lou Xiwu, her head lowered as she slowly moved toward the designated spot. In the center of the garden, a small clearing had been left open. On either side of it were arranged five or six rows of benches. Zhuo Qing and Lou Xiwu were seated in the front row on the right. Once settled, Zhuo Qing closed her eyes, seeking a moment of quietude—out of sight, out of mind.
Soon, the surrounding noise faded into silence. Zhuo Qing opened her eyes to see the Empress Dowagers of the East and West approaching in grand procession, attended by an entourage of eunuchs and palace maids. Both women were meticulously adorned for the occasion, though in comparison, Yang Zhilan's attire remained relatively modest. Her face bore a gentle, kindly smile, while Lou Suxin, on the other hand, wore an extravagant dark red robe, cinched with a golden sash that accentuated her graceful figure. Around her neck hung a string of jade-green pendants, their brilliance magnified by her proud, imposing air—so much so that few dared meet her gaze directly.
Once the two dowagers were seated at the head of the garden, the entire assembly knelt in unison and greeted them with a formal chorus,
"Greetings to the Empresses Dowager. May Your Majesties enjoy everlasting peace and health."
Zhuo Qing, a beat slower than the rest, half-knelt belatedly. Lou Suxin's haughty voice rang out with cool indifference,
"Rise."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," they replied in perfect unison. The noble ladies then returned to their seats, bowing their heads in silent composure—a picture of refined grace, starkly contrasting with the earlier bustle.
Yang Zhilan turned to Lou Suxin. After receiving a subtle nod, she smiled and addressed the gathering in a clear, warm voice:
"Today, we have invited you, young ladies and noblewomen, to a palace banquet with the aim of selecting those blessed with both beauty and talent to perform during the upcoming celebration. It is a matter of dignity for Qiongyue. I shall say no more—you all know the tradition: music, chess, calligraphy, painting, poetry, or dance—whichever you excel in, let your skills shine."
"Let us begin with the zither. Who among you will play first?"
As Yang Zhilan swept her gaze across the assembly with a gentle smile, the young ladies blushed and murmured to each other, heads still bowed, none daring to step forward.
With a soft chuckle, she continued,
"Since you are all so modest, then allow me to name someone to break the ice."
"I have heard that the sisters of the Qing family are known throughout the Six Kingdoms for both their talents and beauty. At the grand celebration three years ago, Hao Yue's landscape scroll, Eternal Joy of the Mountains, took everyone's breath away—merely a casual piece of practice, I'm told. Today, we are fortunate to have two of the sisters among us. Why not ask the eldest, Qing Ling, to honor us with a performance?"
As she finished speaking, she cast a gaze full of benevolent affection toward Zhuo Qing.
The concubines nearby quickly chimed in,
"Indeed, an excellent idea. We have long heard of the eldest Miss Qing's exquisite zither skills—her melodies linger for days, hauntingly beautiful. What a rare opportunity to witness it ourselves!"
Zhuo Qing, who had previously been resting with her eyes closed, now opened them wide and met Yang Zhilan's gaze. Their eyes locked—Yang Zhilan's smile remained gentle, but Zhuo Qing's expression darkened. So this was her intention—to humiliate her in public as vengeance for her daughter?
Yang Zhilan, still smiling, called aloud,
"Someone, bring a zither!"
"Wait," Zhuo Qing stood, her expression calm. If they wanted her to fail, they'd have to try harder than this.
With the poise of a noble lady, she curtsied with practiced grace. When she raised her head again, her face was full of sorrow and grievance, her voice soft with melancholy:
"I thank you all for your regard. Unfortunately, I suffered a slight injury on my way to Qiongyue, and many of my memories have become hazy. The melodies I once knew well now escape me. I fear I must disappoint you today."
Having spent much time with Lou Xiyan, Zhuo Qing had learned more than a few tricks just by watching. Pretending? That was the easiest part.
Yang Zhilan opened her mouth to speak, but Zhuo Qing quickly took hold of the bewildered Xiwu beside her and continued,
"However, I can assure you that Xiwu's zither skills are no less than mine. Just the other day, Young Master Su Mufeng praised her playing most highly. Perhaps she could be the one to begin. She surely will not disappoint."
Lou Xiwu was stunned. Once she realized what was happening, she pinched Zhuo Qing's waist fiercely—this woman was unbelievable! Since when did she talk about her with Su Mufeng? And when did he ever praise her? She didn't even know who he was!
Zhuo Qing winced from the pain but dared not flinch. That girl had a brutal grip. Still, Zhuo Qing was only looking out for her. If Xiwu impressed the court, she might even be chosen for the performance, elevating her status.
"Oh?" Yang Zhilan turned to Lou Suxin with a smile.
"Sister, who would've thought Xiwu's music has improved so much over the years? In that case, let her play a piece."
Lou Suxin, usually proud and cold, showed a rare softness in her expression as she nodded at Lou Xiwu,
"Then Xiwu, go ahead and play."
"Yes, Your Majesty." With no way out, Lou Xiwu had no choice but to bite the bullet.
Zhuo Qing let out a quiet breath. Seeing Lou Suxin so warm toward Xiwu, it was clear she truly favored her. There was no need to worry—no one would dare chastise the Empress Dowager's niece, even if she failed.
Just as she was about to sit down, Yang Zhilan, not ready to release her grip, added with a seemingly gentle smile,
"But merely hearing a melody may be too plain. Ling'er, though you may have forgotten your tunes, surely you still remember how to write? The Eternal Joy painting still hangs in the royal study. Perhaps today, you can grace us with a new piece?"
Though laced in kindness, her words dripped with condescension. Zhuo Qing's temper flared. This woman was determined to humiliate her!
As she rose again, her face visibly darkened.
"I…"
She had barely uttered a word before a cold, clear voice interrupted,
"Your Majesty, we sisters often enjoy painting together for amusement. Perhaps today, I might join my sister in creating a piece for everyone. Would that be acceptable?"
Zhuo Qing looked up—it was Qing Feng. She was here too? Then again, with so many women across from her, it wasn't surprising she hadn't noticed. But together? Was she helping or sabotaging her?
Did grinding ink at the side count as 'painting together'?
Yang Zhilan turned once more to Lou Suxin, smiling,
"Sister, what do you think?"
Lou Suxin cast a sidelong glance at Zhuo Qing and sneered coldly,
"Very well. I too am curious to see what talent the Qing sisters truly possess."
So this was the woman who had compelled Lou Xiyan to plead for her audience multiple times. Lou Suxin was eager to see what made her so special.
Pointing to a pond filled with blooming lotuses, Yang Zhilan said with a smile,
"Sister, since it is lotus season, why not have them paint and play by the pond—beauty and blossoms together, what a lovely sight."
"As you wish," Lou Suxin replied indifferently.
"Someone, prepare the painting tools."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Soon, several nimble eunuchs had moved a large table beside the lotus pond. Behind it, a raised wooden platform was set up, extending over the water, offering the illusion of standing amidst the flowers.
Zhuo Qing, however, had no heart to enjoy the view. Anxiously, she whispered to the confident Qing Feng beside her,
"I really don't know how to paint!"
Qing Feng smiled reassuringly,
"Don't worry. I'll mix the colors. All you need to do is draw a few circles at the bottom of the paper."
"Circles?" Zhuo Qing blinked. Then asked,
"How big? How many? Perfect circles or ovals? Where exactly?"
If it was just drawing circles, she could manage—but she needed specifics! She'd treat it like solving a geometry problem!
Qing Feng replied casually,
"However you like."
"What?!" Zhuo Qing was dumbfounded. How was she supposed to do this?
Before she could protest further, the ink had been ground, the paper laid out, and the eunuchs stepped back, bowing with reverence.
"The tools are ready. My ladies, please proceed."
Zhuo Qing stood beside Qing Feng and watched as she skillfully poured a small amount of ink into a white porcelain dish, then carefully added clear water…