Xie Fu offered the invitation with both hands.
In three days, it will be Jiangning City's annual Splendid Banquet.
In previous years, this banquet only invited aristocratic families, government colleagues, and literary factions to jointly admire the grand sights of Jiangnan's silk weaving.
But this year, the master specifically instructed that since the Hundred Flowers Pavilion has established a foothold in Jiangning, it naturally deserves a seat.
Please, County Princess Xu, you must grace us with your presence.
Hearing the words Splendid Banquet, the surrounding crowd stirred again, but this time it was no longer out of shock, but rather with a bit of schadenfreude.
Everyone in Jiangnan knew that the Splendid Banquet was nominally for admiring flowers and tasting wine, but in reality, it was a place where major aristocratic families carved up interests.
In past years, many arrogant newcomers who did not know their place tried to squeeze in, only to end up with not even bone scraps left.
How was this an invitation? This was clearly a trap!
The gold-stamped invitation was tossed onto the red sandalwood table.
The invitation was exquisitely crafted, using gold-flecked paper that smelled faintly of pine soot ink.
On it were a few lines of small regular script, stating that on the night of the Little New Year, at the Spring in Jade Pavilion by the Qinhuai River, the young talents of Jiangnan were invited to make friends through literature.
The signatories were the Jiangnan Silk Weaving Bureau and the Xie Clan of Jiangning.
Xu Qinghuan leaned back in her armchair, looking at the invitation with cold eyes.
The four great families had suffered a loss at the Hundred Flowers Pavilion and lost face, so they were planning to win it back in their area of expertise.
They lost when competing with money, and when competing with power, the Emperor suppressed them. So, they decided to compete in elegance.
In a place like Jiangnan, what people looked down upon the most was a lack of culture, especially for a County Princess who ran a brothel.
Xu Qinghuan curled her lip and set down her teacup.
A bunch of pedantic scholars, shaking their heads as they recite a few sour poems and flatter each other. Just listening to it makes one sick.
If it were in the past, she would have long ago had Li Sheng use this invitation to start a fire.
But a few days ago, a secret agent from the capital had slipped a note into the back kitchen of the Lingering Garden under the guise of delivering vegetables.
It was the Emperor's oral decree.
It contained only four words: Muddy the waters.
His Majesty the Emperor felt that Jiangning was not chaotic enough, and that the aristocratic families had not lost enough face.
He wanted Xu Qinghuan to deal with the aristocratic families and tear off their fig leaf.
Since I cannot avoid going... Xu Qinghuan tapped her finger on the table twice. System, come out and do business.
After calling out a few times, the system finally replied for the first time.
What does the host require?
I want to compose poetry. Xu Qinghuan spoke with absolute justification. The kind of eternal masterpiece that can stun the entire venue, make those old scholars tear off their beards on the spot, and make those gifted scholars and beautiful ladies die of shame.
Although she had memorized a few poems in her past life, those were the products of exam-oriented education and had long been returned to her language teacher.
To show off at this kind of literary gathering, she had to have presentable poetry.
Host requirement detected.
Opening the paid cultural search function...
In the past, this broken system only knew how to issue quests. Now, it had actually learned to offer value-added services.
A blue panel unfolded before her eyes.
It was densely packed with various options: Three Hundred Tang Poems, Selected Song Lyrics, Three Hundred Yuan Poems... there were even the examination papers of past top scholars.
Xu Qinghuan reached out and tapped the Tang Poetry column.
The next second, she almost jumped out of her chair.
One hundred taels of silver for a single word?!
Xu Qinghuan stared at the price tag, her voice rising an octave. Why do you not just go rob someone?
The system remained completely unruffled: Host, please note that this is cross-dimensional cultural transportation, involving copyright maintenance and causality shielding. One hundred taels per word, fair and square.
Xu Qinghuan laughed out of sheer anger.
Fair and square? A single Quiet Night Thought has twenty words, and you have the nerve to ask me for two thousand taels? Does Li Bai know his homesickness is worth that much?
If the host finds it too expensive, you can choose the doggerel section, ten taels of silver per poem. For example, One piece, two pieces, three or four pieces, flying into the reeds and disappearing.
Get lost. Xu Qinghuan rolled her eyes.
Taking that kind of thing out would only be making a fool of herself, not crashing the party.
She re-examined the price list.
She used to think this system was black-hearted, but now it seemed it was simply trying to suck her blood dry.
However...
Xu Qinghuan turned her head to look at the corner of the room.
Stacked there were several large chests, all filled with the cash silver transported back from the Hundred Flowers Pavilion over the past few days.
The Butterfly Lovers project had made a massive profit, and just the merchandise alone had sold out. Right now, she was so poor that all she had left was money.
Fine.
Xu Qinghuan gritted her teeth. In the face of that massive sum of one hundred million taels, these tens of thousands of taels did not seem to hurt as much.
As long as the effect is good, money is not an issue.
Products from this system are guaranteed to be of premium quality. We support scene matching, emotional customization, and face-slapping specific searches.
Xu Qinghuan sneered and closed the panel.
Since she was going to compose poetry, they needed to talk about the price.
She wanted to see if the literary circles of Jiangning City were worth the hundreds of thousands of taels of silver she was about to spend.
Footsteps came from outside the door.
Li Sheng pushed the door open and entered, holding a piece of rice paper with a strange expression on his face.
Eldest Miss.
What is it now? Xu Qinghuan did not look up, using a silver pick to spear candied fruit from a plate.
Outside... the gambling houses have opened a pool. Li Sheng walked to the table and spread the paper out, which was densely covered with odds.
They are betting on whether you can compose a rhyming poem at the Splendid Banquet in three days.
Xu Qinghuan picked up a piece of dried apricot and put it in her mouth, chewing twice.
What are the odds?
One to one hundred. Li Sheng held up a finger, his tone indignant. The odds for you failing to compose one are one to one point one. These bastards are treating you like a joke!
One to one hundred.
Xu Qinghuan paused her movements.
These odds were essentially cursing her as a money-grubbing ignoramus.
Although the commoners of Jiangning City were moved by Butterfly Lovers, in their subconscious, Butterfly Lovers was just a storybook, popular reading material, which was a completely different thing from true poetry and literature.
Those who wrote storybooks were storytellers, part of the lower nine trades.
Those who could compose poetry at the Splendid Banquet were the true descents of the Wenqu Star.
Xu Qinghuan? A brothel keeper, how could she possibly understand such highbrow art?
Very well. Xu Qinghuan swallowed the apricot and clapped the sugar frosting off her hands.
Li Sheng.
Here.
Go, withdraw one hundred thousand taels of silver from the storehouse. Xu Qinghuan stood up and smoothed her skirt. In batches, find unfamiliar hands to place bets for me at the major gambling houses.
Li Sheng was taken aback: Bet on what?
Xu Qinghuan walked to the window, looking toward the distant Qinhuai River.
Bet it all on me winning.
...
The official road outside Jiangning City was constantly crushed by heavy salt-transporting carts all year round, making the surface so hard it was somewhat shiny.
Several ebony carriages blended into the merchant caravans entering the city. The wheels were wrapped in rubber, making little noise as they rolled over the cobbled road.
The carriages looked quite old, but in the corners, they bore crests that only the capital's elite could recognize.
The Xu Clan of Jingzhao, the Cui Clan of Chenjun.
The accompanying guards wore plain clothes, but their backs were straight and they had calluses on the webbing between their thumbs and index fingers.
Their eyes did not look at the bustling scene; they only stared at the necks and waists of the passing pedestrians.
This was an army from the capital.
