You’re scared now, aren’t you?

Imperial Palace – Imperial Garden

As Hui Yue’er walked over, she overheard Madam Li addressing everyone, “You needn’t recite an entire poem; just the lines that mention flowers will suffice. We are reciting poetry, not composing it, and you must clearly state the author!” With so many candidates, if each recited a full poem, they wouldn’t get any rest until the afternoon. Besides, the Empress mainly wished to test who had read the most poems, so Madam Li felt this approach was perfectly adequate.

Ying Ying mused, “I believe reciting poetry means reading someone else's work aloud, while composing poetry is creating your own. I wonder if that’s correct?”

Miss Fu stole a glance at Li Wanrong and timidly said, “Picking chrysanthemums by the eastern fence, I leisurely glimpse the southern mountain. This was written by Tao Yuanming!” It was another poem praising chrysanthemums. Whenever autumn was mentioned, people inevitably thought of chrysanthemums and osmanthus, perhaps because they were the most famous flowers of the season—just as peonies represent spring, lotuses summer, and plum blossoms the winter. Each season is marked by its own iconic flower.

Li Wanrong glared at Fu Xiu with indignation; people shouldn’t be too easily bullied, or others will take advantage at every turn. Wanrong considered Fu Xiu to be one of Hui Yue’er’s followers, so she signaled to Jing Shu to outshine Fu Xiu. Jing Shu nodded thoughtfully and declared, “Red candles cast autumn’s cold light upon painted screens; a light gauze fan swats at drifting fireflies. The palace steps are cool as water in the night, lying beneath the stars of the Cowherd and Weaver Girl—Tang Dynasty, Du Mu, ‘Autumn Evening.’” But this poem has nothing to do with flowers.

Madam Li pondered and said, “Very well, everyone may choose freely; as long as the poem mentions flowers, it doesn’t matter whether it’s about autumn or not!” She had no wish to offend these future mistresses—such a misstep would be disastrous.

A petite candidate smiled and said, “From afar, I know it’s not snow—only a subtle fragrance arrives. Wang Anshi, ‘Plum Blossoms.’” Plum blossoms truly do not fear the harshness of winter; they symbolize steadfastness and resilience, blooming courageously amid adversity.

One by one, the candidates refused to be outdone. Li Wanrong noticed Hui Yue’er standing silently, so she marched over and taunted loudly, “The much-admired Princess Siyue, are you afraid? No wonder—a girl who only knows fighting and swordplay could never recite poetry or compose couplets. I daresay the Empress is deliberately making things difficult for you!” Her expression was full of disdain.

Hui Yue’er had not intended to stand out, but Wanrong’s provocation irritated her, especially that look of contempt. Unable to tolerate it, Hui Yue’er replied, “Very well, Miss Li. Shall we make a wager? I’ll find a poem featuring eight famous flowers. If I succeed, you must bark like a dog; if I fail, I’ll bark instead. Do you dare?” Naturally, she referred to Old Yang’s poem, which none here had ever heard.

Wanrong and everyone else doubted Hui Yue’er could blend eight famous flowers into a single poem. Confident, Wanrong smiled at Hui Yue’er and said, “Fine, don’t forget—you’re the one who must bark if you lose. No cheating!” Hui Yue’er raised her hand to strike a deal, certain that Wanrong would regret it.

Feigning deep thought for effect, Hui Yue’er sought to make Wanrong believe victory was assured, so that Wanrong would be even more humiliated upon losing. Watching Wanrong’s smug smile, Hui Yue’er began slowly, “Eight beauties, eight blooms: the peony noble, the rose lovely, the plum scholarly, the orchid elegant, the lotus serene, the azalea free-flowing, the osmanthus fragrant as tea—where might the unknown flower soon find a home?” She turned to Wanrong, “Well then? Time to bark—quickly, quickly!” Those who had suffered Wanrong’s bullying joined in Hui Yue’er’s urging.

Wanrong protested, “Who wrote that poem? Madam Li said we must name the author!” She suspected Hui Yue’er had found it among rural folk, and even if Hui Yue’er named the author, no one would recognize it.

Hui Yue’er smiled calmly, “It was written by Yang Jinshun, the Imperial Uncle and Prince Consort. If you don’t believe me, you can ask him yourself!” Everyone knew Old Yang was not someone to trifle with, so naturally, no one dared.

Wanrong was about to argue, but Madam Li interjected, smiling, “You are all sisters entering the palace together; there’s no need for winners and losers. Even if Princess Siyue wins, I trust she won’t trouble Miss Li further!” Right now, smoothing things over was all Madam Li could do, as neither side was one she could afford to offend.

Hui Yue’er had no desire to make things difficult for Madam Li, whatever the reason; after all, Madam Li had treated her kindly. So she graciously said, “Alright, for Madam Li’s sake, I’ll let her off the hook—no barking. I’ll go for a walk over there!” With that, she left; she thought she had glimpsed Zhao Chengxian’s silhouette and followed, whether her eyes had deceived her or not.

Wanrong, still ungrateful, retorted, “Hmph, who needs your mercy? Clearly you’re the one in the wrong!” Her arrogance remained unchanged; should she ever become imperial consort, she would surely look down upon everyone.

Ladies and gentlemen, young and old, those neither young nor old, quickly shower me with your gold medals, red envelopes, and gifts—don’t hold back! Let the storm rage even fiercer!