Mrs. Shen quickly informed her son about the matter and left it to him to handle.
Shen Sushang alone naturally couldn’t uncover the mastermind behind it, so he directly reported it to his teacher.
Jiang Kangyou, who had been idle lately, was incensed to learn someone had dared to bully his disciple. Rolling up his sleeves, he began investigating. This inquiry led to three more names being crossed off the list.
These people were downright disgraceful—instead of focusing on self-improvement, they resorted to underhanded tricks. And with such behavior, they still dreamed of becoming Divine Consorts? What a joke.
This series of events also made the imperial harem realize one thing: strength comes from within. As long as they could offer enough benefits, men would flock to them willingly. To live like Yu Miaohua—that was the epitome of success.
A few days later, the grasslands finally presented their three candidates.
All of them were strikingly handsome men with toned waists and impressive physiques, including the Fifth Prince, Ceren. When these three appeared before the crowd, their audaciously revealing attire left everyone stunned.
Each of them bared their chests, proudly displaying their perfectly sculpted eight-pack abs.
"This—this is utterly indecent!" a minister sputtered in outrage.
The last time the grassland envoys visited, they hadn’t been this shameless. Today, they weren’t even pretending—this was outright seduction.
Fifth Prince Ceren explained, "Back home, in weather like this, we usually go shirtless. Out of respect for Great Qi, we even put on extra layers."
He spoke as if they were making a great sacrifice.
The minister nearly fainted from anger. Those scraps of fabric could hardly be called clothes!
Pei Yuheng remarked sarcastically, "Aren’t you cold dressed like that?"
Ceren replied, "Our bodies run hot—too many layers would suffocate us. I didn’t expect the Young Master to be so frail."
Pei Yuheng gritted his teeth. "Who’s frail? We just don’t want to offend the Divine Maiden’s eyes."
Ceren turned to Yu Miaohua, his demeanor instantly shifting from a wild wolf to an obedient puppy. "If the Divine Maiden wishes us to wear more, we’d gladly comply—anything for her."
Yuan Huirou couldn’t tear her eyes away from the three men.
If it were her, she wouldn’t know whom to choose. She hadn’t envied Yu Miaohua when she was named Imperial Noble Consort, but now? She was genuinely jealous.
Nine Divine Consorts seemed too few—they should’ve selected more. If it were up to her, she wouldn’t have the heart to reject any of them.
Yu Miaohua’s lips twitched. "I think it’s best to follow local customs."
For the sake of her Divine Maiden image, she had to make this small sacrifice.
The ministers sighed in relief.
Ceren, however, seemed to have anticipated her response. He promptly presented a booklet, respectfully handing it to Yu Miaohua. "Which of these outfits does the Divine Maiden prefer? What would you like us to wear?"
Before she could answer, her system screamed in her mind:
[Ahhh! He’s totally trying to get you to personally groom him! Ceren is so smooth!]
[The "Miracle Ceren" game is officially live!]
Pei Yuheng, witnessing this, was seething. Who said grassland men were simple and unpretentious? They were downright cunning, resorting to any cheap trick to seduce the innocent Divine Maiden.
Pei Yuheng scoffed, "You’re not children. Surely you know how to dress yourselves?"
Ceren smiled. "The Young Master is still a child, so he wouldn’t understand the saying, 'Men dress to please their admirers.'"
Though he played meek in front of Yu Miaohua, his attitude toward rivals was entirely different—only fueling Pei Yuheng’s fury.
Yu Miaohua took the booklet. "I’ll look through it later."
The grassland delegation’s boldness was overwhelming, and she needed time to recover.
She didn’t dare open it publicly, fearing it might contain something inappropriate that would shatter her composed image.
Ceren knew when to retreat.
Once the three grassland candidates made their official debut, the next selection round was scheduled for the twenty-fourth of March.
Pei Lingyue hosted a perfunctory banquet for the grassland envoys.
After all, no matter whom Yu Miaohua chose, his son was already on the list—such was the confidence of divine favor.
After the banquet, Pei Yuheng couldn’t help but vent to Pei Chiyan. "How can you stay so calm? Are you just going to let those flamboyant upstarts from the grasslands overshadow us?"
The fact that he used the term "flamboyant upstarts" showed just how furious he was.
Pei Chiyan replied, "There was no need to make a scene. It would’ve only put Miaohua in an awkward position."
Pei Yuheng sneered. "How very 'virtuous and dignified' of you, like a proper main wife."
He suspected that, given Yu Miaohua’s close relationship with the Empress, Pei Chiyan was practically guaranteed a spot.
Feeling the pressure, Pei Yuheng resolved to brainstorm ways to highlight his own charms.
Pei Chiyan watched him leave before returning to the Central Palace.
He had a decent grasp of Yu Miaohua’s personality. While the grassland men’s antics might intrigue her temporarily, she’d eventually grow bored. Letting them indulge her with their flirtatious tactics now would inoculate her against future schemes.
Besides, though their methods were bold, at least they weren’t underhanded. Having them occupy spots was better than leaving room for more unpredictable contenders.
Thinking about the final selection of nine consorts, Pei Chiyan massaged his temples.
Perhaps he should seek more advice from his mother.
---
Back in her palace, Yu Miaohua finally opened Ceren’s booklet.
Each page featured clothing designs alongside illustrations of three figures modeled after the grassland candidates.
After flipping through a few pages, she patted her chest in relief.
She’d been terrified it might contain erotic artwork and hadn’t dared to open it publicly. Turns out, her imagination was the indecent one—they were far more restrained than she’d assumed.
She carefully browsed, circling the outfits she liked.
Admittedly, Ceren and the others had excellent taste—their selections accentuated their best features.
But as she progressed, the fabric grew increasingly sparse.
By the last few pages, some "outfits" were little more than strings.
Yu Miaohua snapped the booklet shut, her ears burning.
Thank goodness she hadn’t opened it in public. She’d overestimated their restraint—the early pages were just a decoy.
She decided to avoid the grassland candidates until the selection. One glance at them, and her mind would conjure those scandalous images. If she ended up nosebleeding in public, her carefully crafted Divine Maiden persona would be ruined.
Yu Miaohua still carried herself with the air of a divine maiden, mindful of her image.
[System, can you turn these designs into actual clothes and create a fashion show video?]
[Of course, Host. Several of these outfits are truly stunning—such a feast for the eyes. You really know your stuff, opting for a runway format. We’re eating well.]
The system hadn’t expected this. Originally, it was meant to guide her into becoming a legendary imperial consort, but her divine maiden persona had only grown stronger, leading her down an entirely unprecedented—and remarkably stable—path.
[Ahem, don’t get the wrong idea. This isn’t for my own enjoyment. It’s desensitization therapy.]
That’s right. By watching it repeatedly, she’d grow accustomed to the sight and stop getting nosebleeds from overactive imagination.
For the sake of her divine maiden image, she was sacrificing so much!
……
The bold and unrestrained behavior of Ceren and his companions had undoubtedly shocked the relatively reserved people of Great Qi.
The Great Qi citizens declared that if they couldn’t even outshine the steppe tribes in the art of winning favor, then those men were utterly useless.
Yu Miaohua had heard that many candidates for the position of divine consort had recently been commissioning custom-made outfits.
Her younger sister, Pei Miaoping, had gathered some intel for her.
"Don’t let their disdainful words fool you. Privately, the styles they’re ordering are quite similar to what the steppe princes wear."
Yu Miaohua’s lips twitched.
"That’s completely unnecessary."
Ceren and his group naturally exuded a rugged, masculine charm. The men Pei Miaoping mentioned, however, were more the refined, scholarly type—totally unsuited for this style.
Pitting their weaknesses against others’ strengths? That was just handing victory to the opposition.
They’d be better off finding ways to highlight their own strengths.
These men didn’t seem particularly bright—Yu Miaohua considered this and decided she’d exclude them from the selection later.
Pei Miaoping added, "Sister, who would’ve thought Zhao Qian is the one behind the Imperial Inspector series, the elusive ‘Plum Blossom Hermit’?"
Zhao Qian?
Yu Miaohua thought for a moment. This was the eldest son of the Duke of Zhao, wasn’t it? He’d passed the provincial exams last year and was a renowned talent in the capital.
She asked in surprise, "Are you sure it’s him?"
Pei Miaoping nodded. "He hasn’t admitted it outright, but his friends spotted the plum blossom seal in his study."
"He hasn’t released any new works in the past six months—apparently, he’s been preparing for the imperial exams."
The imperial exams were held every three years, and this year was one of them.
Yu Miaohua mused, "He kept this identity tightly under wraps before. Now that he’s letting it slip, it’s probably because he heard I enjoy reading novels."
He was trying to appeal to her tastes.
Clearly, Ceren and the others had rattled him, making him fear he might not be chosen.
Pei Miaoping agreed. "When his friends asked when his next work would be released, he only said, ‘In a few days.’"
Aside from the Plum Blossom Hermit’s works, Yu Miaohua hadn’t found any novels that truly captivated her. The news left her quite eager.
Would he still place his new work in the library pavilion, as before?
……
In the central palace, Pei Chiyan was writing furiously.
He’d learned that Pei Yuheng had already commissioned several sets of avant-garde outfits. Though Pei Yuheng openly scorned the steppe men as "vulgar vixens," he’d been quick to imitate them in secret.
Pei Chiyan had no intention of following suit. He had his own path to walk.
A mindless rush to copy would only make Yu Miaohua grow weary faster—and push her further away.
Lately, inspiration had struck him, so he’d picked up another old pursuit.
After finishing this segment, Pei Chiyan set down his brush and called for refreshments, planning to resume after a short break.
Just then, a subordinate quietly approached with a report.
"Zhao Qian, the son of the Duke of Zhao, has been hinting that he is the Plum Blossom Hermit."
"He’s also been investigating the true identity of the Plum Blossom Hermit in secret."
Pei Chiyan glanced at the dozens of pages on his desk, his expression turning peculiar.
If Zhao Qian was the Plum Blossom Hermit… then what did that make him? The Lotus Blossom Hermit?
This was outright identity theft—and aimed at him, no less.
The Crown Prince: I must maintain the dignity of the primary consort and not stoop to their petty tactics.
[Meanwhile, scribbling away in secret, writing novels through the night.]
