The faint fragrance of plum blossoms drifted through the courtyard, carrying with it a subtle sense of elegance and restraint. Liang Luo leaned slightly closer, her voice soft yet laced with a careless sharpness.
“She is the daughter of the Vice Minister of Revenue. The Ministry of Revenue governs the nation’s silver and grain—the lifeblood of the empire. In His Majesty’s eyes, he is a pillar of the state. His daughter… perhaps she may even become a prince’s wife one day.”
The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.
At her side, Wen Yuwei paled, her fingers trembling as they tugged urgently at Liang Luo’s sleeve, silently begging her to stop. To speak so lightly of imperial favor was dangerous, a misstep that could not easily be forgiven.
Across from them, Wei Lanxuan’s expression darkened. A prince’s wife ? Her gaze sharpened like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath. The Feng family harbored such ambition? Did they not fear that a single misstep could cast them from grace into ruin?
A cold snort escaped her. “Daring to speculate upon His Majesty’s intentions? Go home and learn some manners before speaking again.”
With a flick of her wide sleeve, embroidered peonies swaying with restrained indignation, Wei Lanxuan turned away. Wen Yuwei did not dare utter another word and hurried after her. Bai Sihan, also flustered and wide-eyed, lifted her skirt and followed also , their departure stirring a small but noticeable commotion in the pavilion
.
Around them, young ladies of noble houses exchanged glances. Some hid their smiles behind silk fans, while others watched openly. Within a single breath, Liang Luo found herself standing alone, the weight of silent ridicule pressing upon her.
Her delicate features twisted in humiliation, fingers curling tightly within her sleeves. Wei Lanxuan! Yet what could she do? She was merely the daughter of a third-rank official. Her father served as Minister of the Court of Judicial Review—a respectable position, but far below the highest aristocratic families. Compared to the Duke of Wei’s household, a first-rank ducal title among the most honored families in the empire, her own standing was insignificant.
So resentment burned within her chest, yet she swallowed it whole and hurried after them.
Not far away, Wen Mengsheng had witnessed the entire pitch-pot game. The slender clay pot still stood in the courtyard, arrows neatly embedded in its surface. He had to admit—Feng Jinyao’s skill was extraordinary. Pitch-pot was no mere pastime; it required steady hands, a calm heart, and keen sight. He himself was proficient, though seldom showing it publicly. Now, observing her from a distance, admiration flickered in his gaze, though beneath it lay calculation.
Such beauty, such composure… his efforts would not be wasted.
Adjusting his pale scholar’s robes, subtly embroidered at the cuffs, Wen Mengsheng made his way toward her. Handsome, refined, his long brows curved like inked bamboo. There was a quiet elegance to him, reminiscent of pine trees after rain—aloof, dignified, seemingly untouched by worldly dust. In her previous life, Feng Jinyao had been drawn to precisely that illusion.
He approached her with an amiable smile.
“Miss Feng,” he began, his voice warm and courteous, “your skill is truly astonishing. I am full of admiration. May I ask how you cultivated such precision—like piercing ears through halls?”
The tone was light, but the familiarity in it was bold.
Bai Siruo and Feng Jinlin, looked on with open displeasure. Wen Mengsheng seemed to sense their resistance and quickly offered an explanation.
“I am Wen Mengsheng, son of the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Personnel. Incidentally, I share the same teacher as Young Master Feng Jinlin.”
“Oh?” Feng Jinlin lifted his chin, unconvinced. “Then why have I never seen you?”
Wen Mengsheng did not bristle, smiling faintly as though indulgent.
“Brother Feng,” he replied gently, “you have not attended the academy for over half a year. Our teacher instructed me that if I should meet you, I ought to remind you—if you fail the imperial examinations next spring, the reputations of both the Bai and Feng families will suffer. For the sake of your elders, you should return as soon as possible.”
Reasonable on the surface, impossible to refute outright. Bai Siruo cast Feng Jinlin a look of mock reproach, as if he were a spoiled child squandering opportunity. Feng Jinlin bristled, but Feng Jinyao’s gaze remained fixed, cool and sharp beneath lowered lashes.
In her previous life, she would have mistaken such polished courtesy for sincerity. Now, all she saw was calculated affectation.
“Young Master Wen,” she said calmly, a chill lacing her voice, “please maintain propriety. My brother’s affairs are not your concern.”
The distance in her tone was unmistakable. Wen Mengsheng faltered hearing her voice. Had he not already given her the jade? Had he not laid groundwork through his cousin? Yet she did not even grant him a polite smile.
Before he could speak again, Feng Jinyao turned away. Bai Siruo followed immediately, Feng Jinlin trailing behind, casting one last wary glance at him. They departed without the courtesy of farewell.
Wen Mengsheng remained rooted in place, exhaling sharply in frustration. No woman in Dongdu had ever slighted him so openly. His desire to win her over only deepened after this episode.
Ahead, Feng Jinyao felt the weight of a cold, possessive gaze upon her back. Her eyes flickered briefly with frost. Not yet. Now was not the moment to confront him.
Bai Siruo continued chattering beside her, praising the brilliance of her pitch-pot throws, but Feng Jinyao’s attention rested entirely on Feng Jinlin. Her look alone spoke volumes, and under that steady gaze, Feng Jinlin wilted.
“Don’t listen to that Wen fellow’s nonsense,” he protested hurriedly. “I didn’t skip half a year. At most… at most two months.”
“Two months?” Her brow arched slightly. He still had the nerve to say that. Yunqi Academy was no ordinary school. Admission was strictly regulated: only legitimate sons of noble households could enroll, and those who had not passed entry examinations could not remain. Those without rank could not withdraw freely. These iron rules ensured exclusivity and prestige. Yet Feng Jinlin dared to absent himself?
“You may explain yourself later to Fourth Uncle,” Feng Jinyao said coolly. “Grandfather, Father, and Eldest Brother are all present today. Let us see how you answer to them.”
Feng Jinlin’s face fell. “Ayao,” he pleaded softly, using her childhood name.
Nearby, Xu Mingyue, gentle and composed, her attire modest yet elegant, could not suppress a smile. “Anyone unaware would think you were the elder sister scolding a younger brother,” she teased lightly. “The banquet is about to begin. First Madam and Fourth Madam will be overwhelmed. We should not delay here.”
“Indeed!” Bai Siruo agreed, seizing Feng Jinyao’s hand and pulling her along. Xu Mingyue offered Feng Jinlin a small, distant curtsy before departing as well.
Left alone, Feng Jinlin exhaled, his eyes catching sight of the Liang family’s young master slipping down a side path. Xu Liang. Recalling the engagement between their households and the small kindness she had shown him, Feng Jinlin narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and followed without hesitation.
Meanwhile, within the Warm Pavilion, the banquet had commenced. Carved beams and hanging lanterns cast golden light over polished lacquered tables. At the head sat Prime Minister Bai, dignified and imposing, beside Old Madam Bai, matriarch of the household. Nearby, Grand Secretary Xu and the Seventeenth Imperial Uncle, Xiao Tingyi, were present, alongside the Sixth Prince. The Duchess of Zheng and the Dowager Madam of the General of the Cavalry’s Mansion sat close, their presence radiating rank and power.
Yet it was the Seventeenth Imperial Uncle whose appearance caused the greatest stir. Rarely seen in public for nearly ten years due to a disease, his presence at the Bai family’s banquet was no small matter. Whispers drifted like smoke. Youthful nobles marveled at his frailty, recalling the legendary Prince Ding, the God of War who had crushed Southern Yue’s army in seventy days. How could such brilliance be diminished?
“Lower your voice!” an older youth hissed sharply. No one dared call him sickly; it would be blasphemy. Tales of assassination, miraculous survival, were whispered with awe and regret. The era had changed. Military valor now bowed to civil governance. Sons of powerful families pursued scholarly careers, vying for success in imperial examinations. Those from modest backgrounds often joined the army, fighting harder for recognition.
As murmurs faded, Prime Minister Bai raised his crystal glass and The banquet formally began. Feng Jinyao sat beside Bai Siruo and Xu Mingyue, joined by their three aunts. Across the hall, Bai Sihan had taken her seat beside Wei Lanxuan.
First Madam Lin noticed it immediately as , a crease forming between her brows. Before Madam Lin could speak, Third Madam Shen immediately interjected, her tone smooth and persuasive. “Sister-in-law is kind-hearted, so naturally she wouldn’t make things difficult for a junior, right?”
Her words were carefully chosen. If Madam Lin later caused trouble, it would appear that she was being harsh or unreasonable. This Third Madam was not to be underestimated; as her honeyed tone carried a sharp edge beneath the surface.
Bai Siruo’s temper flared. “Third Aunt, be careful what you say. The Bai family and the Wei family have never had any connection. They’ve only met today. How intimate can they be? Why not send someone to call her back? Why does the host insist on sitting at the guest table instead of the main table? Does she consider herself a guest?”
Her words were urgent, sharp, and entirely directed at Bai Sihan and Madam Shen, practically announcing her perception of their lack of manners.
“You—” Madam Shen’s fury rose, but she was cut off by the firm voice of Princess Wenyi, who stood nearby.
“Si Ruo, you mustn’t be rude. She is, after all, an elder. What kind of logic is this, being so aggressive?”
Princess Wenyi’s tone was calm but carried unquestionable authority. Coming from the Kang Prince’s Mansion, she had been raised under strict household rules and valued discipline above all else. Though she held little affection for Shen Shi and Bai Sihan, she did not consider Bai Sihan’s behavior particularly offensive.
Being a mother herself, with only one daughter, she understood the desire to secure a higher marriage alliance. Ambition for social advancement was not sinful, and therefore, she tempered her daughter’s sharp tongue, speaking just enough to correct without humiliating.
Bai Siruo pursed her lips, lowering her head. The handkerchief she twisted in her hands betrayed her resentment, knotted tightly with frustration. Feng Jinyao leaned close, patting her hand gently and whispering a few soothing words. Gradually, Bai Siruo’s wrinkled little face relaxed, her usual cheerfulness returning.
Princess Wenyi observed quietly, noticing the child’s unguarded thoughts. She sighed inwardly. Spoiled rotten… completely oblivious to the trouble that awaits her. If she marries like this, she’ll only learn her lessons the hard way, within her husband’s household.
A flicker of irritation passed through Princess Wenyi, but she set it aside, her gaze drifting toward the men’s table. Her eyes fell upon her husband, dignified and composed, and then on her nephew seated beside him.
Tall and strong, his presence was commanding. Though some features mirrored his sister-in-law, he carried his authority naturally. So a plan began to form in her mind, subtle and deliberate, and she found herself eating with newfound appetite.
Meanwhile, Shen Shi, who had just been rebuked, wore a long, tight-lipped expression. Jealousy and resentment shone in her eyes as she watched Bai Siruo.
Her husband, Bai Sanlang, had been the illegitimate son of Bai Xiang, and his childhood had been devoid of his father’s love. Even after passing the imperial examinations, he had started with a lowly ninth-rank post in distant Qiongzhou.
Yet he was ambitious, diligent, and shrewd. Over the years, he cultivated relationships with superiors and allies, befriended subordinates, and even built networks within his own family. With the assistance of his maternal grandfather father, the Prefect of Lingzhou, he secured the position of Prefect of Qiongzhou.
Still, compared to his elder brother, Bai Chaoan, the disparity was striking. Bai Chaoan held a fifth-rank post in the capital and served as a Hanlin scholar—a position of exceptional prestige, far superior to Bai Sanlang’s provincial rank.
In Shen Shi’s eyes, Bai Xiang’s treatment of his sons had been unforgivable. So what if Bai Sanlang was an illegitimate son? He was still a blood relative, and yet, for over a decade, they had merely been tolerated, their presence overlooked because of the old matriarch, Xu Shi.
Now, with Bai Sanlang finally returned to the Eastern Capital for official duties, Shen Shi’s resolve hardened. She would secure their place in the city and ensure that her husband’s status—and by extension, her own—was no longer overshadowed.
Watching Princess Wenyi eat happily, serene in her composure, and seeing Madam Lin smiling graciously beside Old Madam Bai as she toasted the wives of high-ranking officials, Shen Shi felt a lump rise in her throat. No matter how she tried, she could not swallow it down.
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