A few days later, Yu Fan set out with a group of men. On the day of their departure, the capital was blanketed in heavy snow.
Song Shihuan wore a pristine white fox-fur cloak, a scarf wrapped around her neck, accentuating her fair, jade-like complexion.
"Your Highness, are you truly attending tomorrow's poetry gathering?"
Song Shihuan's political essay had earned the admiration of scholars across the Great Qi, and even the annual year-end poetry gathering had sent her an invitation well in advance.
The invitation seemed to have been infused with plum blossoms, carrying their delicate fragrance.
"I'll go."
Song Shihuan deliberately glanced at Song Yu, who was engrossed in a book. "I heard this year's gathering has invited many provincial graduates preparing for next year's imperial examinations. It should be livelier than before—I’d like to see it for myself."
Hearing this, Song Yu’s fingers paused as he turned a page. He, too, had received an invitation—but not as Prince Qin, but as Guo Feng.
"These people truly have no regard for this prince," Song Yu grumbled. What kind of gathering invited the daughter but not the father?
"Does Father mean you also wish to attend?"
"No."
Song Yu spoke petulantly. "Time is more precious than gold to me now. I’ll compose a poem in advance and have Zheng Fang deliver it on my behalf."
He wouldn’t attend, but his presence would still be felt.
What was life without a little pretense to make it interesting?
"Oh—" Song Shihuan deliberately drew out her tone. "Then I’ll go in Father’s stead to witness this grand spectacle."
Rumor had it several provincial top scholars would be there. When kings meet, sparks fly—how amusing.
Song Yu looked up at her. "I heard Grand Tutor Shen’s invitation was intercepted by Shen Qingping."
Song Shihuan’s expression shifted slightly. Well then, the gathering was bound to be even more eventful.
......
The poetry gathering was held at the renowned Dengyun Pavilion in the capital. The pristine snow added a unique charm to the occasion, stirring excitement in everyone’s hearts.
"Her Highness, the Fuan County Princess, has arrived—"
Song Shihuan’s appearance elevated the gathering’s atmosphere to its peak. Everyone was eager to showcase their finest talents before her.
"Today is solely for composing fine poetry—no need for formalities."
The gathering officially began under the direction of Fei Shu, the Vice Minister of Rites.
"Very well, let the gathering commence. The top scholar of Ji'an Prefecture, Guo Feng, could not attend, but he has personally composed a poem and sent it here. We shall use this as our starting point."
Trampling the heights of Dengyun Pavilion,
Sweeping across the mists of the four seas.
Let none judge my deeds, right or wrong,
For heaven and earth shall sing for me.
After Fei Shu recited Guo Feng’s poem, the expressions of everyone present—except Song Shihuan—twisted in dismay.
Was this a joke? Using this as the starting verse?
If heaven and earth were already singing, what could they possibly add?
"Marvelous!" Song Shihuan clapped with a smile. "Truly befitting the top scholar of Ji'an Prefecture."
Zheng Fang and a few others joined in the applause, while the rest could only offer hollow praise.
"I have an idea," Shen Qingping’s voice rang out, instantly filling the crowd with a sense of foreboding.
Originally, the gathering had invited Grand Tutor Shen, yet for some reason, the younger Shen had appeared in his stead.
"Let us divide into pairs to compete, with the winners advancing to the next round. Repeat this until the finest poem remains, which we shall then compare to Guo Feng’s."
"The ultimate victor’s work will be presented before His Majesty, Emperor Yuanyou."
At the prospect of imperial recognition, the scholars’ eyes gleamed with ambition.
With unanimous agreement, Shen Qingping’s mischievous scheme was set into motion...
"Your Highness, might this official accompany you to admire the snowscape?"
"I’d be honored, Master."
Sensing Song Shihuan’s gaze, Shen Qingping touched his nose awkwardly. Anticipating the chaos ahead, he thought it best to escort the princess away from the brewing storm.
......
Half an hour later.
Fei Shu, bruised and battered, rushed to Song Shihuan’s side. "Your Highness, they’re fighting—everyone’s fighting!"
He had even taken a few punches while trying to intervene.
Song Shihuan moved to return to Dengyun Pavilion, but Shen Qingping stopped her, feigning surprise.
"Scholar Fei, how could scholars resort to violence? Such behavior is beneath them."
"Master Shen, you misunderstand—they fought over whose poem was superior," Fei Shu winced, nursing his injuries.
"Previous gatherings also crowned a winner. Why no brawls then?"
Shen Qingping’s question left Fei Shu bewildered. Why? Could the young master truly be oblivious?
Had he not dangled an irresistible prize, none would have fought so desperately.
"Worry not, Scholar Fei. It’s likely just a minor scuffle. Do me a favor, and I shall reward you handsomely." Shen Qingping lowered his voice. "Note down who struck whom—and what they said while doing so."
He patted Fei Shu’s shoulder. "Go on."
Fei Shu was dumbstruck. Minor scuffle?
And now he was being sent back into the fray?
But the promise of a reward steeled his resolve. Clenching his fists, he turned and marched straight back.
......
"What is the meaning of this, Master?"
Song Shihuan cupped a handful of snow. "Scholars pride themselves on refinement. After today, this gathering will be remembered as a disgrace."
"All under heaven chase profit—how many are truly noble?"
Shen Qingping smirked. "Those who brawl today lack the temperament for governance. I’m merely helping His Majesty sieve out the unworthy."
Come the palace examinations, the emperor could reference today’s records to dismiss the hot-headed contenders.
Song Shihuan glanced toward Dengyun Pavilion. "And Zheng Fang’s group...?"
"Your Highness, I play no favorites. They received no forewarning—their fate rests in their own hands."
If a trivial opportunity could unravel them, they were unfit to stand with Prince Qin’s faction.
The gathering lasted a full two hours.
The final victor was a provincial graduate, his eyes swollen nearly shut from the fighting.
"Master Shen, this is my humble composition... Might you...?"
Shen Qingping studied the poem briefly before smiling. "In my opinion, Guo Feng’s remains superior."
A collective gasp swept through the battered scholars.
After all that strife, the crown went to someone who hadn’t even shown up?
Shen Qingping’s gaze lingered on Zheng Fang and his unscathed companions, satisfied.
"I shall keep my word and present Guo Feng’s poem to His Majesty."
As a protégé of Ye Shijie, Guo Feng was already a target. With Shen Qingping’s maneuver, he was now thrust further into the spotlight.
Silently observing, Song Shihuan couldn’t help but pity a certain prince.
Indeed.
When no danger is present, the master becomes the greatest danger of all.
