Chapter 74: The Palace Banquet on the Night of Sevens (4)

Ning Hua and Fu Yuechan exchanged a smile. Seeing the affectionate looks between the two, they had initially meant to tease Shen Qianmo, but her candid admission of her feelings for Meng Yuanheng took them by surprise and dispelled any desire for jest.

At that moment, the main event of the banquet—the talent performances—was announced, and their conversation naturally shifted to the upcoming acts.

“Elder Sister Qianmo, what have you prepared for your performance? It must be something special, right?” Fu Yuechan’s large eyes were bright with anticipation as she asked eagerly.

The legendary remarkable lady—surely her performance would be unique, with some extraordinary flair. She looked utterly expectant.

At this, Shen Qianmo felt awkward. Aside from forensic examination and anatomy, she was only skilled at martial arts, basketball, and tennis—her talents in the performing arts were quite mediocre.

So, as she watched the performances already beginning on stage, she smiled casually and replied, “I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed, Yuechan. My performance is very ordinary, nothing special about it.”

Ning Hua pursed her lips in discontent. “Every year, the winner of the Qixi Banquet’s performance is either a princess or a noble lady. People like us are just here to make up the numbers—there’s no need to take it so seriously.”

“That’s true,” Fu Yuechan agreed wholeheartedly. “But for three years running, Lady Anping has taken the top spot. Hua, do you think she’ll win again this year?”

Ning Hua shook her head. “I doubt it. After the humiliation she suffered last year, she’ll probably keep a lower profile this time.” She turned to Shen Qianmo and added, “Qianmo, you’d best be careful around Lady Anping.”

Why? Could there be some past grievance with Lady Anping? Shen Qianmo arched a brow, puzzled by Ning Hua’s warning.

Noticing her confusion, Ning Hua realized she must not know the whole story. That was understandable, as Shen Qianmo had never attended such gatherings before. So she explained, “Do you know what wish Lady Anping made after winning last year?”

Shen Qianmo shook her head. Could it be related to that?

Fu Yuechan leaned in, her interest piqued. “Tell us, Hua—what did Lady Anping ask for that ended up embarrassing her so badly?”

“She requested that His Majesty grant her a marriage with Prince Xuan. But before the imperial edict could even reach the prince’s residence, he flatly refused the match.” Ning Hua’s tone was conspiratorial, a trace of mockery in her expression.

The incident had made Lady Anping the laughingstock of the capital for quite some time, but thanks to her mother, Princess Zhaoren’s authority, the matter was slowly suppressed and did not create a wider scandal. So it was no wonder Fu Yuechan and Shen Qianmo hadn’t heard of it.

Such a thing? Shen Qianmo was truly baffled—Meng Yuanheng was not only paralyzed but rumored to be incapable as a man. Why would Lady Anping be so eager to marry him? It seemed his luck with women was truly exceptional.

So when the late Emperor decreed her marriage to him, he’d only requested a year’s delay, not outright refusal—had he actually spared her dignity?

But if Lady Anping was Princess Zhaoren’s daughter, and Princess Zhaoren was the late Emperor’s sister, then Lady Anping and Meng Yuanheng were first cousins, weren’t they?

A chill ran down Shen Qianmo’s spine. Meng Yuanheng, you were wise to refuse that marriage—nothing good comes from marrying close kin.

“Relying on Princess Zhaoren’s status, Lady Anping has always been proud and aloof, looking down on even other princesses. But to be so heartlessly rejected by Prince Xuan—she must have lost considerable face,” Fu Yuechan remarked with some sympathy.

Ning Hua, however, sounded worried. “If Prince Xuan had continued to keep women at arm’s length, it would be fine. But now he is clearly devoted to you, Qianmo, caring for you in every way. With Lady Anping’s temperament, I fear she may harbor resentment towards you. So, you’d best be cautious.”

With the hints from Ning Hua and Fu Yuechan, Shen Qianmo was able to pick out Lady Anping, seated at the head of their row. At first glance, she was rather surprised.

Despite Ning Hua’s description of Lady Anping as proud and high-handed, her attire tonight was simple and elegant—a gauzy dress of lake-blue, adorned with few ornaments and no gaudy jewels. In the sweltering summer night, she looked like a clear spring, refreshing to behold.

Fu Yuechan exclaimed quietly, “Elder Sister Qianmo, Lady Anping’s outfit is so much like yours.”

Indeed, Lady Anping’s appearance was uncannily similar to Shen Qianmo’s—both graceful, dignified, and poised.

Given their equal status, Meng Yuanheng was seated directly opposite Lady Anping. Shen Qianmo noticed that, though Lady Anping sat elegantly and maintained a calm demeanor, her gaze often, whether intentionally or not, drifted to the stony-faced, slightly frowning Meng Yuanheng. Clearly, she was interested in him.

Shen Qianmo could only massage her forehead helplessly. What was so desirable about Meng Yuanheng, with his unpredictable moods and bad temper? She had thought that, with his disability and the rumors about his manhood, she might enjoy some peace—who knew trouble would follow regardless.

As the three of them chatted, the performances continued one after another. Fu Yuechan and Ning Hua also took the stage—Fu Yuechan danced; Ning Hua played the zither. Both gave competent performances—nothing extraordinary, but dignified, preserving their reputations. Clearly, their choices had been carefully considered.

In such royal banquets, competing against princesses and noble ladies, maintaining a middle level was the wisest course.

So, when Shen Qianmo’s turn came, she felt little pressure. As Ning Hua finished and passed her onstage, she offered a look of encouragement.

Shen Qianmo gave a gentle, serene smile and seated herself calmly before the guqin. Her fair hands lifted gracefully and evocative music began to flow.

“Delicate clouds weave skillfully, shooting stars carry longing across the sky, the Milky Way quietly bridges the distance.
When golden wind and jade dew meet, it surpasses all encounters in the mortal world.
Tenderness as soft as water, a tryst as fleeting as a dream—how can one bear to look back on the magpie bridge?
If love between two hearts endures, what need is there to dwell on morning and evening unions?”

She played and sang, her voice slightly low but clear and melodious, her expression tranquil yet captivating. She was like a heavenly maiden, singing softly, her performance blending gentle affection with a detached grace, seamlessly intertwining elegance and restraint, leaving a lingering impression, drawing her audience in and beguiling them.

When the song ended, Shen Qianmo breathed a sigh of relief—no mistakes. She had learned the guzheng for a time in school, and the basic feel had remained. With a little practice the night before, she’d managed not to embarrass herself.

Her gaze wandered to Meng Yuanheng, who was watching her intently, his eyes overflowing with deep, unspoken affection.

In these recent days, both of them, affected by Lou Xinyue’s curse, had felt uneasy, and her refusal to marry him had only heightened his anxiety. So tonight, she had chosen this piece, hoping to reassure him and help him focus on his treatment.

It was a carefully considered decision after learning she’d be performing at the banquet. If love truly endures, what need is there to dwell on daily togetherness? She had chosen “Immortal at the Magpie Bridge” specifically, wishing only that he would understand her heart and let go of his fears.

Meng Yuanheng understood her intentions all too well. He gazed at the serene, gentle woman who smiled at him, overwhelmed by emotions words could not express. His hands gripped his legs tightly—how he wished his ailment was cured, that he could stride over to her, whisk her away to a place just for the two of them, where her beauty would be his alone to savor.

The audience was still lost in the afterglow of Shen Qianmo’s performance, immersed in the moving verses she had sung. Regardless of her singing skill, the subtlety and lingering charm of the lyrics had struck them deeply, casting an almost dreamlike spell over the gathering.

If two hearts are truly united, why crave the short-lived pleasures of daily affection? Such broad-minded and unrestrained grace was rare, even among men.

Feng Ze and Lu Ziqing, witnessing the silent exchange between Shen Qianmo and Meng Yuanheng, could not help but feel a pang of bitterness. Lu Ziqing, ever self-controlled, hid it well, though the light in his eyes dimmed. Feng Ze, however, was visibly tense, his hand crushing a wine cup out of shape.

He filled his cup and drained it in one gulp, swallowing his sorrow. The two of them were so deeply devoted—where, then, could his own feelings find a place?

He knew well that he ought to let go, but love is not something one can control.

Meng Tianluo stared intently at Shen Qianmo on stage, a cold glint in his eyes. That cripple Meng Yuanheng’s luck was extraordinary—he had survived such danger seven years ago, and now had won such a rare and exquisite woman. Was this truly fortune after disaster?

The hall remained silent for a long moment. Shen Qianmo, unconcerned with the crowd’s reaction, cared only that Meng Yuanheng understood her heart. The feelings of others were none of her concern. She rose gracefully, offered a slight bow, and returned to her seat without another glance.

“Well, well! What a line—‘If love between two hearts endures, what need is there to dwell on morning and evening unions?’” Emperor Mingde broke the silence first, praising her repeatedly. “Miss Shen, your insight is truly remarkable. This poem’s conception is lofty and unique, a breadth of mind rare even among men. Excellent.”

“Thank you for your praise, Your Majesty.” Shen Qianmo stood and bowed, though inwardly she muttered: It was written by a man to begin with; she had only found it suitable and borrowed it for the occasion.

“Congratulations, sister Qianmo, on earning the Emperor’s praise!” Fu Yuechan said with a beaming smile.

Ning Hua was also sincerely impressed. “Qianmo, your poem is outstanding. Such vision and breadth of mind—I'm not your equal.” She considered herself free-spirited and genuine, but this eldest Miss Shen radiated a peaceful calm from deep within her very bones.

Shen Qianmo was a little embarrassed. She could only smile and silently thank Master Shaoyou.

Master Shaoyou, I hope you won’t mind my borrowing your masterpiece for a while.