Chapter 766

Mo Lan, who had just been beaming with pride, froze mid-smile upon hearing Ru Lan’s quiet words.

Mo Lan had attended many such poetry gatherings before, and though she’d recited a few of her own favored lines, she’d never before experienced such an impact.

She hadn’t even finished savoring the admiring, appreciative, almost reverent glances from the noble ladies.

She slightly lifted her chin, hid her mouth behind her fan, and leaned close to whisper: “Fifth sister, if you speak up, I’ll be humiliated—but the Sheng family’s honor will be ruined too. Father will find out.”

At these words, Ru Lan’s faintly smug expression vanished; she whispered: “Fourth sister, how could you say that!”

Beside them, Pin Lan, confused by the exchange, kept glancing back and forth.

Ming Lan frowned, took a deep breath, and whispered: “Fourth sister, we won’t spread it around—but we will tell Xiao Gongye.”

Ru Lan’s eyes lit up: “Yes! We’ll tell Yuanruo brother! Just imagine what he’ll think when he hears what you did today!”

Ming Lan whispered: “Chai’s girl is Xiao Gongye’s cousin, Fourth sister!”

Mo Lan’s face paled; she whispered faintly: “You—you!”

Then she turned her gaze back toward the noble ladies in the garden.

The noble ladies in the courtyard were still savoring those two lines.

Rong Feiyan sat upright in her chair, chin slightly raised, nodding repeatedly, her hairpins swaying with each motion.

Watching Li’s Fifth Daughter silently writing down the lines, Rong Feiyan murmured them twice, her eyes filled with admiration: “‘Dampens the robe, ready to wet,’ ‘apricot blossoms,’ ‘rain’—Sheng’s Fourth Daughter used these words perfectly.”

Hai Chaoyun, nearby, wore a distant, nostalgic expression, as if recalling spring rains past; her gaze softened as she said: “The poem never says the spring rain is fine as silk—but those four words, ‘dampens the robe, ready to wet,’ make you feel as if you’re standing in the rain. Truly brilliant.”

The surrounding noble ladies all nodded in agreement.

“Sheng’s Fourth Daughter, are those the only two lines?” Chai Zhengzheng asked with a bright smile.

At Chai Zhengzheng’s question, the noble ladies all nodded, their eyes hopeful, fixed on Mo Lan.

Mo Lan took two deep breaths, smiled, glanced at her three younger sisters, then gracefully bowed to the gathering in the garden.

The young ladies, puzzled, exchanged glances.

After bowing, Mo Lan smiled: “Forgive me for the impropriety—but to be honest, those two lines weren’t mine. I heard them once while studying at my family’s private school. Seeing how well they matched the theme of ‘spring rain,’ I recited them.”

At these words,

the expressions of the noble ladies in the garden varied.

Some were astonished, some disappointed, some raised their brows, others pursed their lips.

As host, Shen Hezhen nodded with composed maturity, smiled like a little adult, and praised: “I’ve long heard that Zhuang the Scholar, famed in the capital, now teaches at the Sheng household. Could these be his casual composition?”

After Shen Hezhen spoke, the others in the garden all looked as if they’d just understood.

Ru Lan, frowning beside Mo Lan, rose to speak—but Ming Lan, quick as a flash, grabbed her arm and leaned close: “Fifth sister, wait until Fourth sister finishes.”

Ru Lan, obedient, pressed her lips shut and sat still, eyes locked on Mo Lan, waiting.

Mo Lan shook her head with a smile: “No, these lines aren’t Zhuang the Scholar’s idle work.”

Before Mo Lan could continue, Zhang’s Fifth Daughter, eyes fixed on Ming Lan, exclaimed: “Ah! Of course! I heard Sheng’s Sixth Sister’s younger brother passed the county exam at a young age—is it—”

Ming Lan immediately raised both hands, waving them frantically: “Zhang’s sister, no—it’s not my younger brother! Not him!”

Then she turned to Mo Lan, her eyes urging her to speak.

Mo Lan took a breath and smiled: “Ladies, these two lines were composed by my schoolmate, Xu Wu, the Fifth Cousin of the Xu family.”

After speaking, Mo Lan bowed again with a smile, then lowered her eyes and returned to her seat.

The noble ladies in the garden wore varied expressions.

When Chai Zhengzheng and Rong Feiyan heard “Xu family,” both froze.

Chai Zhengzheng couldn’t suppress a smile; Rong Feiyan’s gaze drifted, lost in thought.

Zhang’s Fifth Daughter’s eyes lit up: “Ah! So these are Xu Wu’s lines! Wow! Truly excellent!”

Hai Chaoyun, Shen Hezhen, Li’s Fifth Daughter, and other daughters of civil officials all nodded in agreement.

Li’s Fifth Daughter leaned forward, squinting at Hai Chaoyun, and smiled: “Wasn’t there another poem—‘The imperial street’s light rain moistens like cream’—also written by Xu Wu?”

Hai Chaoyun nodded with a smile: “Yes! I think it was three years ago?”

Li’s Fifth Daughter added: “Right—I remember that year was when Marquis Xiangyang had his son and Anmei sister got married.”

The palace maid standing behind Li’s Fifth Daughter listened to the girls’ chatter, nodding slowly—she’d have fresh gossip to share upon returning to court.

The poetry gathering continued,

the noble ladies still discussing poetry and verse.

Nearby, Hai Chaoyun, listening to the murmurs around her, fell into quiet thought—she vaguely recalled hearing a poem by Xu Zaijing during the Lantern Festival that year, and had even tweaked it slightly.

After a while,

“Ladies, we’ve talked poetry long enough—shall we take a break and enjoy some tea?”

Shen Hezhen smiled.

The guests naturally all agreed.

Shen’s maids promptly brought out various teas.

“Shuangjing, Xieyuan, Yunwu, Yujin, Jinpian—Hezhen sister, your tea collection is truly complete,” Chai Zhengzheng exclaimed in surprise.

Zhang’s Fifth Daughter, who’d looked puzzled moments before, now smiled in recognition: “Yes, yes! This one’s Yujin—I nearly didn’t recognize it!”

On the other side,

Ru Lan, who recognized only one tea, pressed her lips together and asked Ming Lan and Pin Lan: “How many did you recognize?”

Pin Lan held up four fingers, then lowered one after hesitation: “Three.”

Ming Lan glanced at Pin Lan, then whispered: “Me too—three.”

Mo Lan, beside them, sneered: “Five kinds of tea—how hard is that to tell?”

“Then Fourth sister, tell us about them?” Ru Lan smiled.

Mo Lan’s expression stiffened; she turned her head and snorted: “Go read at home.”

In the garden,

Shen Hezhen smiled like a little adult: “These are just small home-grown teas—sisters, if you like them, it’s my honor.”

Chai Zhengzheng nodded with a smile, turned to Yunmu, and whispered: “They seem similar to the tea our family’s shop sends.”

Yunmu bowed slightly and murmured: “Yes, my lady! I recall our household often buys tea in bulk from the Jiangnan West region—Shen’s tea shop also supplies.”

“Hmm.”

Then,

everyone sampled the teas.

The four Sheng daughters kept glancing at the noble ladies speaking, listening to their half-understood critiques.

The maids Xi Que, Xiao Tao, and Yun Zai stared blankly at the maids around Chai Zhengzheng and the others, watching them expertly handle teaware and brew tea.

At noon they ate, then spent the afternoon arranging flowers and appreciating incense.

The four Sheng daughters spoke little, mostly watching and listening—these arts were still beyond their formal training.

In the afternoon,

everyone departed; Shen Hezhen gave each guest a gift.

And before the four Sheng daughters left, Shen Hezhen took Pin Lan’s hand and whispered a few words, leaving Pin Lan beaming with pride, nodding eagerly.

In the evening,

Jiyin Alley, Sheng household.

Lin Qige, outer chamber of the main house.

Mo Lan held a finely packaged box of tea and smiled: “Father, it’s because I recited poetry so well that Shen’s daughter specially gifted me these teas.”

Sheng Hong smiled and waved his hand: “Mo’er, I have tea at home—keep these fine ones for yourself.”

Lin Qinshuang smiled at Sheng Hong: “Honglang, this is Mo’er’s heartfelt gift—take it. Don’t hurt the child’s filial spirit.”

Sheng Hong glanced at Lin Qinshuang, then smiled and extended his hand: “Very well—I’ll take Mo’er’s gift, as your mother says.”

Mo Lan smiled, bowed, and handed the tea to Sheng Hong.

“Good child! Father hasn’t spoiled you for nothing.”

Mo Lan smiled.

Lin Qinshuang took the tea from Sheng Hong, opened the wooden box, removed the tea cake, and held it before him.

“Smell it,” Sheng Hong did so, eyes wide with surprise: “Huh—this tea truly smells exquisite!”

Hearing this, Mo Lan’s smile broadened.

The next day,

Nanjiangtang Alley, Rong household, Huixue Courtyard.

Early morning,

Golden sunlight spilled over the eaves, falling on the western wing’s wall.

The garden’s green plants swayed gently in the morning breeze.

Footsteps approached; Rong Feiyan, smiling, entered the courtyard with four maids, stepping through the moon gate.

“Xi Bu, do you think such a young child can recognize people yet?”

Xi Bu smiled: “My lady, he certainly can! When he sees you, he smiles!”

Rong Feiyan nodded with a smile: “With an extra wet nurse, the boy’s clearly gained weight these days!”

Ning Xiang added: “My lady’s right! I think the little lord is closer to you than anyone else.”

Rong Feiyan smiled: “I wonder when Brother will return home! When he sees this chubby little boy, he’ll be astonished.”

The mistress and maids laughed as they entered the room.

Inside,

"By the way, Xi Bu, bring me the notebook where you copied the poems from yesterday’s Shi family gathering."

"Yes, Miss."

"Are you going to write, Miss? Let me grind the ink for you," Ning Xiang said with a smile.

"Mm."

Rong Feiyan nodded with a smile and sat down on the chair behind the desk.

A moment later,

Xi Bu handed over a thin little notebook.

Rong Feiyan tilted her chin slightly; Xi Bu understood and placed it on the table.

Then, with one hand propping her chin and the other flipping through the pages, Rong Feiyan began reading.

Standing beside the desk, Ning Xiang was grinding ink and gave Xi Bu a meaningful glance—but Xi Bu shot her a warning look.

Seeing this, Ning Xiang quickly suppressed her smile and resumed grinding ink.

After reading a few pages, Rong Feiyan extended her hand.

Ning Xiang immediately picked up a brush from the stand, dipped it in ink, and handed it to Rong Feiyan.

After writing a few characters, Rong Feiyan flipped through the notebook again.

Looking at the two lines of poetry on the page, Rong Feiyan’s lips curled upward unconsciously, and she began writing carefully.

At that moment,

Xi Bu returned with a cup of tea: "Miss, drink this to moisten your throat."

"Mm, set it here," Rong Feiyan said without looking up.

Xi Bu bowed and placed the teacup down, then glanced at the characters her mistress had written.

When she looked up again, Xi Bu met Ning Xiang’s smiling gaze—once more.

Ning Xiang’s eyes clearly said: See? I told you so.

Xi Bu could only smile.

After writing for a while, Rong Feiyan studied the characters on the paper and nodded with satisfaction.

Xi Bu glanced at it and said, "Miss, these characters of yours are truly exquisite—shouldn’t we have them framed?"

Rong Feiyan pursed her lips in thought, glanced around the room, and nodded: "My chamber does lack literary charm. Fine, have it framed."

Listening to their exchange, Ning Xiang looked at Xi Bu with admiration, thinking to herself: No wonder Xi Bu is the most thoughtful maid—look at how well she phrased that.

The paper with the writing was taken away by a young maid. Rong Feiyan sat on the chair, sipped tea, and said: "Is Qing Zhi, the maid by Pingmei’s side, nearing her wedding date?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Prepare some gifts and send them over. If the silver isn’t enough, come to me."

Ning Xiang smiled: "Miss, I think gifts aren’t necessary—silver would suit better."

Rong Feiyan paused, recalling some amusing anecdotes about Lan, then laughed and nodded: "Then let’s do as you suggest."

Another day passed.

The morning sky was clear,

but by noon, dark clouds drifted in, obscuring the sun.

In the afternoon,

when Rong Feiyan awoke from her nap, the world outside was already gloomy.

"Xi Bu, what time is it?" Rong Feiyan asked, stretching lazily.

"It has just passed the hour of Wei," (after 1 p.m.)

Rong Feiyan said: "Hmm. The sky outside doesn’t look like mid-afternoon."

"You’re right, Miss," Ning Xiang agreed as she entered from outside. "It looks more like evening."

As she spoke, Ning Xiang patted her own clothes.

"Is it raining outside?" Rong Feiyan asked in surprise.

"Yes, Miss—but it’s only a light drizzle," Ning Xiang smiled.

"Oh?" Rong Feiyan slipped on her slippers, threw on a jacket, and hurried toward the door.

"Miss, where are you going? Slow down!" Xi Bu rushed after her.

"Get the lady a cloak," Xi Bu called over her shoulder as she chased after her.

"Oh, oh," Ning Xiang watched Rong Feiyan’s retreating back, then hurried to one side.

Following her mistress out of the room, Xi Bu saw Rong Feiyan standing still in the courtyard, eyes closed, head tilted upward, letting the fine spring rain fall on her nose, cheeks, and eyebrows.

Seeing Rong Feiyan’s faint smile, Xi Bu gazed at the misty drizzle and decided not to disturb her.

"Xi Bu, the cloak," Ning Xiang said as she stepped out, moving toward Rong Feiyan.

"Huh? Xi Bu, what’s wrong?" Ning Xiang asked, puzzled as Xi Bu held her back.

"Wait a moment. Go get an umbrella first," Xi Bu said softly, watching Rong Feiyan.

"Oh."

After a while,

Rong Feiyan opened her eyes with a smile, her gaze bright—her hairpin, face, and clothes all dusted with fine raindrops.

Xi Bu hurried forward with the cloak, signaling Ning Xiang to join her.

Looking at her maids, Rong Feiyan glanced down at her rain-drenched clothes and smiled: "Xi Bu, Ning Xiang—do you think he wrote those two lines on a day like this?"

Ning Xiang, focused only on making sure the umbrella covered Rong Feiyan, was momentarily stunned by the question.

Xi Bu draped the cloak over Rong Feiyan: "That gentleman rides his horse to school every day—he must have written them just as you say."

Hearing this,

Rong Feiyan’s eyes crinkled with delight. She leaned out from under the umbrella, gazing at the rain-drenched sky, pressed her lips together, and whispered: "How wonderful."

(End of Chapter)