Chapter 75 The Palace Banquet of the Double Seventh (5)

Just as Ning Hua and Fu Yuechan were both convinced that tonight’s victor would be Shen Qianmo, the final performer, Princess Qionghua, stunned the entire hall with her breathtaking entrance.

In the hazy moonlight, a graceful woman in flowing red danced with elegance, her black hair like ink, her long sleeves swirling in the air—at times with a demure tilt of her wrist and eyes, at others with soft, cloud-like gestures. Her silken sleeves stirred the wind, her movements both refined and vigorous. Amid the falling pink petals, her lithe figure floated like an immortal, as fluid as water, as soaring as a dragon, as graceful as a phoenix.

This dance was none other than “Phoenix Soaring Across the Nine Heavens.”

Long lost to time and exceedingly difficult to master, “Phoenix Soaring Across the Nine Heavens” was a formidable feat. For Princess Qionghua to achieve such a performance was no small matter; clearly, she had devoted herself fully for tonight’s spectacle.

As the dance ended, Princess Qionghua stood alone on the high platform, her fiery silhouette commanding all attention. Yet her shy, timid gaze frequently drifted toward Feng Ze, further convincing Shen Qianmo that the princess indeed harbored affections for him.

Unfortunately, Feng Ze was lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to the princess’s glances. He hadn’t even noticed what performance Qionghua had staged. Seeing Shen Qianmo and Meng Yuanheng exchange a loving gaze, lost in their own world, he felt only sorrow and discomfort, as though sitting on pins and needles. If not for sheer self-control, he would have left long ago.

As expected, Princess Qionghua, with her “Phoenix Soaring Across the Nine Heavens,” emerged as the evening’s champion.

Ning Hua and Fu Yuechan were indignant on Shen Qianmo’s behalf, but Shen Qianmo felt the result was well-deserved. Both the princess and the dance left her with a sense of surprise and awe.

The princess had chosen such a rare and challenging dance, undoubtedly to dazzle everyone and attract her beloved’s attention.

Shen Qianmo remembered that Feng Ze was already twenty-five this year. In ancient times, many men of his age had several children. Lady Chu, worried about Feng Ze’s marital prospects, had transferred him from the northwest frontier to the capital for an official post.

But was Princess Qionghua truly a suitable match for Feng Ze?

By tradition, the winner of the performances could ask the emperor for a wish. When Emperor Mingde inquired, Princess Qionghua hesitated for a moment, then requested, “Father, I cannot think of a wish right now. May I ask for it another day, if you would grant me this favor?”

Emperor Mingde considered and found no fault with this, so he nodded his consent.

Behind them, the ever-elegant Princess Anping wore a mocking smile. Hmph, you think you won’t embarrass yourself by naming your wish later? We’ll see.

With that, she shot a cold glance toward Shen Qianmo’s direction, her eyes growing chillier.

At long last, the banquet ended. As Shen Qianmo prepared to leave, Wei Fang appeared at just the right moment to relay the Empress Dowager’s invitation.

The night-blooming cereus in the Imperial Garden was at its peak, and the Empress Dowager invited all the ladies present to admire the rare and fleeting beauty.

Within the Imperial Garden lay the Beauty Pavilion, where all kinds of night-blooming cereus were cultivated. These flowers, also known as “Beauties Under the Moon,” gave the pavilion its name.

Because they bloomed only in the quiet of night, their fleeting splendor was a rare sight. The blossoms exuded elegance and heady fragrance, and since most of the ladies were flower enthusiasts, excitement filled their faces as they eagerly followed the Empress Dowager to the Beauty Pavilion in small groups.

Shen Qianmo could not help but sigh inwardly. These people simply never tire—celebrating the Qixi Festival as if on stimulants. Wasn’t everyone here supposed to retire early? It had to be past nine by now, so why did the night only make them more energetic?

Ning Hua and Fu Yuechan were clearly interested in the flowers as well, each taking one of Shen Qianmo’s arms to drag her along.

The gentlemen, of course, would not join the ladies for flower viewing. After sitting all evening, Emperor Mingde, feeling weary, declared the banquet over and dismissed everyone to their residences.

That was just as well—Shen Qianmo thought Meng Yuanheng should return to take his medicine. Their eyes met; Meng Yuanheng looked reluctant, but with Ning Hua and Fu Yuechan urging her on, Shen Qianmo ignored his dark expression and followed the others.

The Beauty Pavilion stood in the western corner of the Imperial Garden. The Empress Dowager’s suggestion was perfectly timed, for the night-blooming cereus was at its loveliest. Even before setting foot inside, the group was greeted by waves of fragrance.

Stepping into the pavilion, they were captivated by the spectacle: pot after pot of cereus, each unique in form, all in full bloom—white, blue, purple, pink. The colors glimmered in the moonlight, as pure and moving as elegant maidens in their prime, radiating their beauty to the fullest.

“These cereus are truly beautiful!” Fu Yuechan, sweet and lively, spun like a top before the flowerpots, occasionally leaning in to inhale their scent, utterly delighted.

Ning Hua, steadier by nature, was equally entranced.

Shen Qianmo was not unfamiliar with the night-blooming cereus—she had grown two pots in her own apartment in modern times, mainly for their medicinal properties in treating coughs and phlegm. A practical person, she never had much patience for tending flowers, preferring to spend her time on autopsies. Still, she had never witnessed such a mass of cereus blooming at once, and even she was awed by the striking display. The Imperial Garden truly was a marvel; nothing seemed beyond its reach.

As Shen Qianmo admired a pale purple cereus, she suddenly heard a familiar call behind her: “Big Sister.”

It was Shen Qianxue’s voice!

Turning around, she saw Shen Qianxue, pretty as ever, gazing at her with large, pleading eyes.

Shen Qianmo frowned slightly. Just moments ago, Shen Qianxue had glared at her with venom at the banquet—why such a look now? What was she plotting?

Still, it was unwise to reject a friendly face, especially in the palace. Shen Qianmo nodded coolly. “Qianxue.”

Shen Qianxue stepped closer, speaking softly, “Big Sister, I have a favor to ask—could you spare me a moment?”

Shen Qianmo was reluctant, sensing something off about Shen Qianxue’s demeanor. Yet faced with such determined pleading, she relented to avoid a scene and followed her to a quiet corner, waiting for her to speak.

Once alone, Shen Qianxue dropped her meek facade. Her eyes turned vicious as she hissed, “Shen Qianmo, you really are ruthless. Marrying a cripple was one thing, but did you have to ruin the Young Lord as well?”

Shen Qianmo’s brows knitted, her tone turning cold. “I don’t know what you mean, Qianxue.”

She knew Shen Qianxue referred to Meng Yunce contracting syphilis, but felt no guilt—he had brought it upon himself.

Fury flared in Shen Qianxue’s eyes as she lowered her voice to a near-maniacal hiss. “Do you know how much I hate you? That runaway horse robbed me of my child and the chance to be a mother. The doctors say I’ll never have children. You cost me my title as Young Lord’s wife—I’m nothing now but a lowly concubine. Do you know what I’ve endured in the Prince of Rong’s manor? All my life I’ve been better than you, but why do you get everything, while I have nothing?”

Her anger twisted her features, her eyes blazing as if to burn Shen Qianmo to ashes.

“Everything has its cause and effect. If you had not plotted against me, you would not have come to this. I have a clear conscience,” Shen Qianmo replied calmly.

She was no Mary Sue—though Shen Qianxue’s fate was indeed pitiful, Shen Qianmo refused to pity those who reaped what they had sown.

Shen Qianxue suddenly sneered, her face twisted with malice. “Don’t be too pleased with yourself. You’ve ruined me, and I won’t let you off easily.”

At that moment, a neat, pretty little palace maid hurried over, looking directly at Shen Qianmo—a rare act among palace maids. Sensing something amiss, Shen Qianmo responded warily, “I am.”

The maid continued, “Miss Shen, Princess Anping requests your presence.”

Why would Princess Anping summon her? Shen Qianmo was about to ask when she noticed Shen Qianxue’s eyes flicker. With a cold snort, Shen Qianxue turned to leave.

Suddenly, the palace maid pulled a silver hairpin from her hair, lunged forward, and drove it into Shen Qianxue’s back with swift, practiced precision.

It all happened too fast for even Shen Qianmo’s vigilant instincts to react in time.

A piercing scream shattered the tranquility of the Beauty Pavilion—Shen Qianxue’s cry echoed like thunder. The wound was deep; when the maid withdrew the pin, blood gushed out. Overwhelmed by pain, Shen Qianxue collapsed.

Shen Qianmo seized the maid’s wrist, twisting it sharply until the hairpin clattered to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Shen Qianmo demanded, her face grave and stern. This was no ordinary act—there was a deeper purpose at play.

Hearing Shen Qianxue’s scream, the rest of the party rushed over. Finding her covered in blood and writhing in pain, panic ensued. Some timid concubines and princesses shrieked in terror, plunging the scene into chaos.

The Empress Dowager, leading the group, quickly ordered the imperial physicians summoned, determined to avoid another tragedy in the palace.

Seeing that the assailant was a palace maid, the Empress Dowager’s face turned icy. “Which palace are you from? Why would you harm the Lady of the Young Lord?”

The maid seemed jolted from a trance. Wrenching free from Shen Qianmo’s grip, she fell to her knees, trembling violently, her face a mask of terror as she pointed at Shen Qianmo and cried out, “Demon! She’s a demon—she uses witchcraft!”