"Esteemed envoy, has your tongue gone bad? This is clearly fine plum blossom wine, with an excellent flavor," a Da Qing official retorted loudly.
The Southern Chu envoy raised an eyebrow, glancing mockingly at Shen Wei, who sat at the head of the table. "How strange—mine happens to be sour and foul. It seems even the esteemed Da Qing Imperial Consort isn’t flawless in her arrangements."
Shen Wei’s delicate brows arched slightly.
She couldn’t help but study the Southern Chu envoy, a man in his thirties with an unremarkable face, towering height, and a robust build. Though his appearance was ordinary, his words were laced with thorns.
It was clear he was deliberately targeting her.
Under normal circumstances, the best way to handle such a provocation would be to replace the envoy’s wine.
But if Shen Wei ordered a new jug, it would indirectly admit there was an issue with the current one. Moreover, it would imply Da Qing had lost face in this verbal sparring with Southern Chu, damaging the nation’s dignity.
Li Yuanjing’s handsome brows furrowed slightly as he prepared to speak, but Shen Wei subtly pressed her hand over his.
Their gazes met.
Li Yuanjing smiled faintly, recognizing that Shen Wei had a plan to handle this minor conflict.
"My lady, should we replace the envoy’s wine?" Cai Lian whispered.
Shen Wei shook her head.
Setting down her teacup, she turned to Liu Ruyan with an air of nonchalance. "Consort Mei, this Southern Chu envoy claims the plum blossom wine tastes like swill. What do you think?"
Liu Ruyan was a devoted admirer of plum blossoms.
She wore robes the color of white plum blossoms, adorned her hair with plum blossom pins, used plum-patterned paper, painted plum blossoms, and loved drinking plum blossom wine—though her tolerance was poor. After just a cup or two, she’d already begun to sway.
Now, hearing Shen Wei’s question, Liu Ruyan pressed her fingers to her temples, her muddled mind latching onto the key phrase—the envoy had called the wine swill.
A cold smirk curled her lips as she fixed the Southern Chu envoy with a disdainful gaze, as if appraising some lowly creature.
"Plum blossom wine," Liu Ruyan enunciated, her voice crisp, "is brewed from white plum blossoms that bloom in the depths of winter, fermented for three years before yielding a single vat. Southern Chu has no winter plums. Coming from such a backwater, how dare you slander such a rare and exquisite drink?"
The hall fell silent.
No one had expected Consort Mei to openly mock the Southern Chu envoy for his lack of taste.
But it felt satisfying to hear.
The envoy rested his chin on his hand, lips quirking in amusement. "And yet, the wine in my cup truly is sour—"
Liu Ruyan, now thoroughly intoxicated, couldn’t bear to hear her beloved wine insulted. She sneered, "Reeds on the wall, top-heavy with shallow roots; bamboo shoots in the hills, sharp-tongued and hollow inside. A toad of a man, stumbling upon fine wine, dares to judge what he cannot comprehend."
The Southern Chu envoy: "..."
Liu Ruyan’s gaze swept over his plain features. "Even a rat has skin, yet you lack all decorum. In my view, the wine is sweet—it’s your foul mouth that turns it sour."
The Southern Chu envoy: "..."
From the women’s seating area, Zhang Miaoyu couldn’t suppress a giggle.
The other Southern Chu envoys looked displeased. Sensing the tension, Shen Wei interjected smoothly, "Consort Mei is drunk. Those in their cups often speak too freely—how improper. Attendants, escort her back to her palace to sober up."
Maids hurried forward to support the swaying Liu Ruyan.
Even in her stupor, Liu Ruyan managed to call out, "Imperial Consort Chen, plum blossom wine is precious. Don’t waste it on those who can’t appreciate it."
Shen Wei covered her lips with a handkerchief, feigning sternness. "Take her away at once."
Then, with a gracious smile, she turned to the insulted envoy. "Consort Mei has little tolerance for wine. Southern Chu is a land of propriety—surely such a distinguished envoy wouldn’t stoop to quarreling with a mere consort?"
The envoy’s gaze lingered on Shen Wei.
Her words were masterful—if Southern Chu took offense, they’d appear petty.
His expression unreadable, he set down his cup and clasped his hands in apology. "This envoy spoke clumsily. Perhaps my palate is too coarse for fine wine. I apologize for the misunderstanding, Imperial Consort."
The minor clash settled, dishes were served, and music filled the hall. After several rounds of wine, Li Yuanjing clapped his hands. Two armored guards entered, carrying a modified firearm and crossbow.
They demonstrated their marksmanship on a target in the center of the hall—a clear display of Da Qing’s military might, a warning to Southern Chu against any ill intentions.
The banquet continued, each guest lost in their own thoughts.
At the men’s seating, the mocked Southern Chu envoy drank and ate as if nothing had happened. Raising his delicate jade cup, his gaze flickered toward the beaded curtain where Li Yuanjing and Shen Wei sat.
The Da Qing Emperor, clad in black-and-gold court robes, exuded authority and nobility.
The Imperial Consort, resplendent in gold-and-red ceremonial dress, radiated elegance.
Their affection was evident—heads bent close, whispering words meant only for each other.
The entire court knew of Li Yuanjing’s favor toward Imperial Consort Chen. Though she came from humble origins, she wielded her influence with grace, caring for the people and the imperial harem alike—a model of virtue.
The Southern Chu envoy drained his cup and muttered, "This wine really is sour."
...
...
By the banquet’s end, Shen Wei had drunk more plum blossom wine than intended. Her tolerance was poor, and though her mind remained clear, the alcohol weighed heavily on her.
As the guests bowed and dispersed, Li Yuanjing ordered the attendants to escort Shen Wei back to Yongning Palace while he summoned officials from the Ministry of Rites and Ministry of War to finalize arrangements for the Southern Chu delegation.
The spring night was cool, palace lanterns lining the path as Shen Wei rode in a swaying palanquin. The motion churned her stomach, and she soon signaled to stop, opting to walk the rest of the way.
But after only a few steps, nausea overwhelmed her. She stumbled to a flowerbed and retched. Cai Lian, alarmed, patted her back gently. "My lady, Ji Xiang has gone to fetch sobering soup. Please hold on."
"I’m fine—" Shen Wei began, then sneezed violently.
The floral scent from the flowerbed assaulted her senses. Eyes watering, nose itching, she sneezed repeatedly, tears spilling over.
She wished she could rip out every flower in the palace.
Wiping her damp cheeks, she inhaled the cool garden breeze, the crisp air easing her dizziness slightly.
"My, my. What’s wrong with the Imperial Consort? Crying and vomiting—how pitiful."
A voice laced with mock curiosity rang out.
Shen Wei turned.
There stood the plain-faced Southern Chu envoy.
He emerged from the riot of blossoms, his deep purple robes fluttering in the wind. Moonlight bathed him, casting an eerie glow—like a specter stepping from the abyss.
