That single “spring fever” earned Xunqi a punishment—she was sent off to copy calligraphy model sheets, with no meals allowed until she finished. Yan Zhi’an, meanwhile, lay beneath the window, enjoying the view outside.
After that fierce quarrel with the Old Master, she actually felt much better.
The Old Master was getting on in years, lacking the decisiveness and foresight of his youth. He was always thinking of leaving more wealth to his incapable descendants, and he blamed Yan Zhi’an for giving up a mountain mine to win a good name for her daughter. Clearly, she cared only for her daughter and not for the Yan family.
How could that not make one angry?
Yan Zhi’an had acted first and reported later, never once consulting the family. Such a weighty matter, decided by her alone—that made them angrier still.
As for Yan Zhi’an, she had vented the anger in her heart. Satisfied, she lay down beneath the window and fell asleep.
Just then, someone slipped in from outside. Seventeenth Miss tiptoed over and tugged Xunqi out to talk. Xunqi glanced at her mother, then turned and left.
The two ran all the way to the covered walkway in one breath. Seventeenth Miss panted heavily, her cheeks flushed. “Xunqi, there’s a poetry contest. Want to go? The prize is a thousand taels of silver.”
“A thousand taels? That much?” Xunqi couldn’t help being tempted. “Wait, isn’t the family rich? Why would you enter a poetry contest over a thousand taels?”
At that, Seventeenth Miss rolled her eyes. “The one with money is the Yan family—not me.”
She was born of a concubine in the Sixth Branch, and her own father had been born of a concubine too—she was the concubine-born of the concubine-born. On ordinary days, all she had was a bit of monthly allowance.
She looked at Xunqi. “Does your mother give you money?”
“No.” Xunqi subconsciously glanced at the Sachet at her waist. Inside there was only dried fragrance, no money. Even she and the Madwoman together hadn’t managed to earn a full thousand taels yet. Her heart stirred. “Which day?”
“Tomorrow. I already gathered a group to go. I didn’t expect you to be back, so—we go, how about it?” Seventeenth Miss was a little nervous. “Listen, if you win, we split it. You take five hundred; the rest we divide among ourselves.”
Xunqi was new here and didn’t know the rules, so she nodded. “Alright, I’ll attend tomorrow. Can I tell my mother?”
“No.” Seventeenth Miss darted forward and covered her mouth, her heart leaping with fright. “Don’t say a word! The adults won’t allow it.”
The Yan elders looked down on such petty gains, thinking that going there would lower their status and disgrace the family. How could the elders understand the misery of having no money?
Seventeenth Miss couldn’t voice her grievances, but Xunqi understood at once. “Got it. Come pick me up tomorrow.”
The two huddled together, discussing the plan in hushed tones for half an hour before parting.
Xunqi snuck back into the room. Her mother still hadn’t woken, so she went back to practicing calligraphy.
When Yan Zhi’an woke, Xunqi had already finished. She handed over her practice sheets. “Can I rest tomorrow?”
“What do you think?” Yan Zhi’an took the sheets, glanced through them, then used a brush to mark a few spots. “Great improvement.”
Xunqi beamed. Yan Zhi’an swept her a glance. “Go play, then.”
“Okay!” Xunqi turned and dashed off like a little rabbit.
Yan Zhi’an couldn’t help laughing. In truth, Xunqi was well-behaved and free of bad habits—clearly, the Madwoman had raised her well. Xunqi was already fourteen, an age of reason. Building a bond with her wasn’t easy, especially since girls that age tended to develop a rebellious streak.
But in the two months they’d spent together, Xunqi had been obedient, well-mannered, and filial. She hadn’t seen much of the world, yet she’d been learning earnestly from her every step of the way—even her calligraphy had improved by leaps and bounds.
Raising a child, actually, wasn’t half bad.
Of course, it had to be a child who was obedient and caused no trouble.
Early the next morning, Xunqi slipped away. Wushuang searched all over but had no idea where she’d gone. Suddenly frightened, she immediately reported to the Head of the Family.
Yan Zhi’an was playing chess with Tenth Miss, who was married and living in Jinling. Yan Zhi’an hesitated, but Tenth Miss said, “There’s a poetry contest today. Little Seventeen must have dragged your daughter off to it. Send someone to look, if you don’t believe me.”
“A poetry contest?” Yan Zhi’an was surprised, then instantly intrigued. She dropped her game piece and ordered Wushuang, “Go take a look. Tenth Miss, you come too.”
Tenth Miss frowned. “What are you going to do?”
“I feel like it.” Yan Zhi’an shot her a glance. “You came by today for your husband’s matters, didn’t you?”
Tenth Miss’s visits always meant she had a request. Being seen through before she’d even spoken left her a bit embarrassed. Yan Zhi’an continued, “After all that marriage, you’ve let yourself end up like this?”
“I don’t have your ability, Little Nine.” Tenth Miss heaved a sigh.
Yan Zhi’an ignored her, rose, and headed out. Tenth Miss had no choice but to follow.
Meanwhile, Xunqi sat among the crowd, looking up at the contest theme—peony. Puzzled, she asked Aunt Seventeen, “Why is it still peony?”
“Exactly. My guess is it’s because of your poem—they want one that outshines yours.” Seventeenth Miss grinned. “This contest scores both poems and quantity. I know you’re quick on the draw, that’s why I dragged you along.”
A poetry contest, after all, was meant to be contested.
Xunqi understood and nodded. “I see.”
Gongs and drums rang out. Incense was lit; when it burned down, the contest would end.
Xunqi picked up her brush at once and wrote as if guided by a god. Seventeenth Miss stared, dumbstruck. “Don’t you need to think?”
As she spoke, the others clustered around. Seeing Xunqi’s brush fly, a poem was done in the blink of an eye.
Seventeenth Miss looked at the finished verse. “Dragging you here was the right call. Write, write fast—I’ll grind your ink for you.”
The group crowded in, doing their best to serve her. But Xunqi waved a hand. “My hand’s tired. I’ll recite; you write.”
She set down her brush, and Seventeenth Miss immediately picked one up to write in her place.
By the time one stick of incense had burned out, their side had produced no fewer than ten poems—a staggering number. The opposing group stared at Seventeenth Miss. “Seventeenth Miss, you couldn’t cut it yourself, so you called in help?”
Seventeenth Miss gave a contemptuous smile. “You won last year. This year, it’s our turn.”
“That’s not certain.” The other side sneered. “The few drops of ink in your belly ran dry long ago, and your friend’s the same. Don’t think writing more means winning.”
Seventeenth Miss had never won a poetry contest. But the temptation of a thousand taels was too great. She came every year, lost every year, and was mocked every year.
This time, she puffed out her chest and faced them head-on. “So what? Today I brought my niece to beat you. First place at the Quxian Feast—do you know who that is?”
Only then did the other side look at the slim girl at her side. Xunqi smiled at them.
“Seventeenth Miss, you cheated!” The other side was furious. “You called in outside help!”
Seventeenth Miss planted her hands on her hips. “My niece is only fourteen. Why can’t she join? Besides, she IS my niece—I brought her to broaden her horizons.”
“You cheated! She’s not allowed to compete!” The opposing group was livid. “Yan Xunqi made her name with one poem at the Quxian Feast. She has no business here at OUR contest!”
Seventeenth Miss waved a dismissive hand. “If you lose, you lose. It’s not like I’d laugh at you.”
The moment she finished speaking, the other side grabbed an Inkstone and hurled it. Xunqi reached out and caught it—so fast it left everyone staring.
“You, Miss Xie! You want to fight?” Seventeenth Miss was furious. She hurriedly checked Xunqi’s hand—luckily unharmed, just covered in ink. She snapped at the other girl, “If you lost, bow your head. If you want a fight, I’m game.”
Xunqi spoke with utter calmness: “Wait until the judges have ruled. If you want a fight—I’m game too.”
She raised her eyes, sharp-edged, carrying three parts of Yan Zhi’an’s authority.
That single sentence quelled the Xie girl’s fury. She shot a venomous glare at Seventeenth Miss. Xunqi stepped in front of her aunt and gave the other girl a faint smile.
Upstairs, Yan Zhi’an watched the girl among the crowd with astonishment. She seemed to be thoroughly enjoying all of this.
She beckoned Wushuang and whispered a few words. Wushuang was utterly horrified. “You want ME to stir the pot?”
“It’s only lively once a fight breaks out. Also, bring me the Young Mistress’s poems to read.” Yan Zhi’an’s eyes curved. Her smile was so gentle.
Wushuang shot the Head of the Family a sidelong look but had no choice but to turn and leave.
Downstairs, it quieted for a moment. The judges deliberated, then announced the results—and sure enough, Seventeenth Miss’s side had won.
“She cheated!” The Xie girl pointed at Xunqi. “She joined without even registering!”
Xunqi looked at Seventeenth Miss. She didn’t know the rules—did one have to register?
Seventeenth Miss smiled serenely. “I registered her.” Ever since the Quxian Feast last year, she’d had this contest in mind and had conveniently registered Xunqi on the spot.
“I don’t believe you! You cheated! The result should be nullified!”
“What’s mine is mine.” Xunqi pressed down on Seventeenth Miss’s hand and fixed her gaze on the Xie girl before her. “If you lost, admit it. Don’t lose your dignity too.”
Seventeenth Miss explained at her side, “She’s won four years running. Losing to you this year, she can’t stomach it. Don’t be afraid, Xunqi. We’re in the right. Worst case, we throw down.”
The poetry contest was hosted by the Yuan Family Academy to recruit talent—winners could enter the Academy. It was held every year. This year, faced with such a chaotic scene, even the judges had a headache.
Xunqi stared at the other side provocatively. All of a sudden, the Xie girl lunged. Seventeenth Miss shoved Xunqi aside, hurled herself forward, and planted a kick on the girl.
Xunqi: “…”
Upstairs, Tenth Miss frowned. “Who shoved that Xie girl?”
Yan Zhi’an simply smiled and said nothing.
Below, a brawl erupted. Tables and chairs toppled across the floor; ink splattered everywhere. Everyone else fled—only the Xie girl and Seventeenth Miss were tangled up, trading blows.
Xunqi meant to step in and break it up when someone from the other side charged out and tackled her to the ground.
“Oh dear…” Tenth Miss panicked and called to the servants, “Go separate them!”
Yan Zhi’an propped her chin on her hand, watching below as Xunqi reversed their positions, pinned the girl down, grabbed her by the throat, and barked: “Everyone stop! Or I’ll strangle her!”
Hearing that, Seventeenth Miss and the Xie girl finally broke apart, both drenched in ink, faces smeared and gray.
Seeing the others back off, Xunqi shoved the girl back and swept her gaze across the crowd, raising her voice: “Anyone who dares to make a move—come at me.”
The Xie girl pointed at Seventeenth Miss. “You’re shameless! You cheated! You didn’t win fair and square!”
Seventeenth Miss wiped the ink off her face and smiled back at her. “It’s just that you’re no match.”
Beside herself with fury, the Xie girl stamped her foot and turned—spotting Yuan Fusheng in the corner, she immediately rushed over. “Aunt! These Yan people go too far!”
Yuan Fusheng had arrived to find them already brawling. She looked up and saw Yan Zhi’an watching the spectacle with leisurely composure, and she knew at once—Yan Zhi’an had stirred this up to test her daughter’s ability to handle a crisis.
Fortunately, Xunqi had prevailed with pure force over tricky skill. She’d performed quite well.
Once Yuan Fusheng showed her face, Yan Zhi’an could hardly keep pretending. She hurried downstairs after her.
“Left Prime Minister…”
“Left Prime Minister…”
The crowd bowed one after another. Yan Zhi’an walked up to the judges, picked up the stack of poems, and skimmed them. “Headmaster Yuan, you render the verdict.”
Yuan Fusheng stood still in the distance. “Someone copied one out for me a moment ago. The Young Mistress Yan’s poems vastly surpass the rest. No need to look again.”
“Aunt…” The Xie girl was still unwilling to accept it.
Xunqi was puzzled and asked Seventeen, “Her surname is Xie. Why does she call Headmaster Yuan ‘aunt’?”
“Her mother is from the Yuan family.” Seventeenth Miss cleared it up.
Xunqi frowned. The Yan, Wang, Xie, and Yuan families were truly formidable—relying on marriage ties, they sat firmly at the top of Jinling’s great clans.
At that point, Yan Zhi’an turned to Yuan Fusheng, her gaze indifferent. “Headmaster Yuan, what do you think? How should this be handled?”
That single, light look was as sharp as a blade, pressing down on Yuan Fusheng. She tucked her hands into her sleeves and said helplessly, “I’m not part of the Xie family. Why are you looking at me?”
Yan Zhi’an nodded. “Wushuang, escort Miss Xie back to the Xie family.”
Xunqi suddenly piped up, “And the thousand-tael prize?”
“Right here.” The presiding judge popped up from under the table and handed the silver from their robes to Xunqi.
Seventeenth Miss immediately took it, looking at Xunqi with gratitude. Xunqi smiled, eyes crinkling, and turned to thank Yuan Fusheng. “Thank you, Headmaster Yuan.”
“You earned it yourself.” Yuan Fusheng’s tone was flat. Then she turned to Yan Zhi’an. “Is this how you raise a daughter? Sending her to poetry contests to earn money?”
Seventeenth Miss: “…” We’re doomed.
The smile on Xunqi’s face snapped to a halt. Suddenly, she felt as if she’d been caught red-handed.
