Chapter 617: Can One Man Outshine the Group of Beauties Banquet

Yun Wan's brow furrowed in thought; her prepared opening verse waited silently for its moment.

For this Group of Beauties Banquet, her regard was no small matter—she had nearly emptied her coffers to purchase hairpins.

She would claim one of the top ten courtesan seats at all costs.

Yun Wan, the woman who had always been composed, graceful, and detached within Yuehua Pavilion, had held the courtesan throne for three consecutive years.

Now, faced with this rare chance at redemption, she had secretly resolved to fight for it.

Success or death!

As Yun Wan gazed at the poem on the paper, a flicker of hesitation stirred within her.

To beg a stranger, a young lad she had never met, for an uncertain outcome.

If he refused, her spirits would sour, and her performance at the banquet would suffer.

Li Xiangjun, seeing her expression, offered gentle reassurance: "I know what you're thinking, Sister Yun—but I've seen how Lord Xie treats guests. Even if he refuses to write, he'll never shame you or leave you humiliated."

Yun Wan looked into Li Xiangjun's hopeful eyes and understood: this sister, who had lost the courtesan title years ago, still carried a bitter resentment.

This banquet, Li Xiangjun wasn't fighting for herself—she was fighting to give Yun Wan the upper hand over Hu Yunniang and the others.

Li Xiangjun had even spent nearly half her fortune to aid Yun Wan.

She continued: "Sister, have you forgotten? When Sister Nihuang first met the Third Master, he was nothing but a drunken vagrant stumbling into Yuehua Pavilion."

"Who could have guessed that this drunken man would win Nihuang a decade of fame?"

"Madam Gongsun will soon announce the opening verses. Once Xie Guan's name spreads, every courtesan here will scramble to court him. When that happens…"

At these words, Yun Wan's hesitation vanished.

"Thank you, Sister Xiangjun—we leave at once."

With that,

Yun Wan lightly draped her veil and stepped out from the banquet's backstage with Li Xiangjun.

The space was cramped; several Yuehua Pavilion courtesans had overheard their conversation. Yet they had already prepared their own verses and knew nothing of "Xie Guan"—they merely kept watchful eyes.

Hu Yunniang, however, already knew who Xie Guan was—she had gone with Su Yun earlier today to request a poem from him.

Watching Yun Wan and Li Xiangjun depart, she felt an inexplicable pang of loss.

Chenxiang shrugged indifferently:

"Yun Wan must be desperate enough to grasp at straws. If Xie Guan truly had talent, he'd have agreed when Lord Xie asked him—why this roundabout scheme?"

"Even if Xie Guan is talented, what of it? Today, scholars, literati, and academy masters fill this banquet hall."

"Can one man, Xie Guan, outshine them all?"

Hu Yunniang nodded deeply in agreement.

Even if Xie Guan were brilliant, what could he do? At this Group of Beauties Banquet, the scholars and guests of countless noble houses had long known the theme and prepared their verses meticulously.

Could he truly compose a masterpiece here and now, surpassing them all?

Hu Yunniang steadied her mind, focusing on the banquet about to begin.

Her qin performance today was already impressive, yet among so many courtesans, others were equally skilled.

She must give her all to stand out in this grand gathering.

"Have the verses prepared by the Prince of Yan been finalized?"

A woman in red silk asked, her features delicate as a painting under the lantern light, radiating bold vitality.

She was none other than Madam Gongsun, who had just dazzled the crowd with her sword dance on stage.

"Sister Gongsun, the Prince of Yan submitted his verses well in advance," replied the woman beside her.

Madam Gongsun nodded slightly and gently placed her slender steel sword upon the rack.

This was the backstage of Zixiao Pavilion—the private chamber reserved solely for her.

Before her, a row of swords lined the wall behind the rack, including famed blades from Bianjing, gleaming with cold light.

Madam Gongsun walked to her dressing table and loosened her ponytail; her black hair cascaded like a waterfall.

Her personal maid stepped forward to comb it out.

Madam Gongsun did not pause—she picked up the poems collected by the master of ceremonies and began to examine them slowly.

Her lineage was extraordinary: her father was a rank-three military general; her mother descended from a famed martial clan.

From childhood, she disliked silk and rouge, preferring spears and swords. As a girl, she had laughed to her father: "I want to be a female general."

Among all the courtesans, she stood alone—skilled in sword dance, her talent rooted in family heritage.

Yet the Gongsun family's fate had been shattered by their entanglement in the old case of "Xie's eldest and Emperor Xianhe."

Her parents were exiled to Beihai; the other women were enslaved as court courtesans.

Madam Gongsun, due to her extraordinary beauty, was sold into Zixiao Pavilion.

With her stunning looks and her crimson sword dance, she rose to fame in Bianjing, becoming Zixiao Pavilion's top courtesan.

With the favor of the Sixth Prince, the Prince of Yan, she gradually became the foremost courtesan of Zixiao Pavilion.

Over the years, she had never lost heart; deep within her burned one wish—to redeem herself and secure an official pardon for her parents, so they might be reunited.

That case was too grave, too vast—it was a forbidden secret among the Nine Surnames.

Even the Sixth Prince, the Prince of Yan, dared not intervene lightly.

Yet through the Prince's connections, Madam Gongsun had obtained a verbal decree from the imperial court's Grand Secretary Su Xiang.

Su Xiang had promised: if she placed among the top three in this Group of Beauties Banquet, her parents would be granted freedom.

That was why Madam Gongsun had not performed publicly for years—yet now, for this banquet, she staked everything to fulfill her wish.

She carefully reviewed the verses the Prince of Yan had prepared for her—though she had already read each one thoroughly.

She had already decided on the first three.

The silver and gold for purchasing hairpins had been readied, but while more hairpins meant greater favor, every courtesan's patrons were wealthy beyond measure.

The true key!

Lay in the number of hairpins held by the academy masters and high ministers.

Their votes were the scales that would decide the courtesan's fate.

This opening verse was especially critical.

Among the Prince of Yan's guests were academy masters, and three of their poems were exceptionally brilliant.

The rest of the poems submitted by others were brought by the master of ceremonies, then screened first by the Prince's personal scholars to ensure no masterpiece was missed.

Yet!

In past banquets, few poems had ever been truly worthy—each courtesan had long secured their favored scholars, who had prepared their verses well in advance.

Madam Gongsun flipped idly through a few submitted poems and felt a pang of disappointment. Most were stale, uninspired, and dull.

Seeing the second courtesan's performance reach its midpoint, she knew it was time for her to return and announce her three opening verses.

Seeing no poem among them that satisfied her, she prepared to change into another robe and present the verses she had already prepared.

"Help me change," Madam Gongsun whispered.

"Yes, Sister Gongsun," the maid replied, stepping forward to assist her.

Madam Gongsun gazed into the bronze mirror: her ponytail had been combed into a sleek cloud-like coiffure, softening her martial edge, adding grace and dignity.

She had long made her decision: this was the one chance in her life to break free from her cage—she would not let it slip away.

At that moment!

A light footstep sounded.

A delicate, bookish girl entered, her voice bright with excitement: "Sister Gongsun, wait—there's one more poem."

Madam Gongsun was slightly surprised.

This girl was not only her closest confidante but also her trusted advisor in selecting poems.

"Sister Gongsun, please look."

The girl gently spread the paper upon the dressing table.

Time was still early.

Madam Gongsun was not in a rush—she lifted her eyes to read.

A genuine gasp escaped her lips.

"These characters… written with extraordinary grace."

The girl smiled, urging: "Sister, look at the poem itself."

Madam Gongsun, already stirred by the brushwork, began reading line by line.

"Briefly dwelling in Bianjing, again the New Year's Eve. The chrysanthemums beneath the fence bloom wide, their petals washed clean."

She had barely finished reading when she froze—was this not her own heart, spoken after all these years?

She hurried on.

"The songs from all sides fade, the siege is broken; eight years of flavor, I still dream of Jiangnan."

"They forced me into the role of a delicate woman—I scorn it!"

Madam Gongsun's heart trembled—years of sorrow in the western pavilion seemed distilled into these opening lines.

Though a courtesan, she had never feigned feminine frailty.

The girl read the next two lines aloud:

"My body may not be among men, yet my heart burns fiercer than any man's! All my life, my spirit has been warm for others."

"Who among common men understands me? Even heroes face trials on their path."

"In this chaotic world, where can one find a true soulmate?"

"My blue robe is wet with tears!"

Before her words had faded, Lady Gongsun had already picked up the paper, and tears had silently fallen upon it.

In the mirror, a pair of exquisite eyes had already turned red.

"Who wrote this?"

The charming woman gazed at the signature on the paper.

"Grass Hall Poetry Society."

"Xie Guan!"

(End of Chapter)