Chapter 42: The First Move

As Shen Yue's melody concluded, the audience sat enchanted. A woman with outstanding zither skills commanded admiration anywhere, especially when blessed with beauty. In the male guests' section across from them, many young men from National Second and Third had their gazes fixed this way—never mind the children of National First who were too young. Although Qin Qing at Guangwen Hall surpassed her in appearance, Qin Qing's nature was proud. How could she compare to Shen Yue's gentle and endearing demeanor?

"Your sister plays quite well," Feng Anning admitted reluctantly. "I wonder which zither master she hired. Tomorrow I'll ask my mother to find a famous master to teach me."

This was the age when young people thrived on competition. Just as when Shen Miao had first become Empress, she had remained relaxed about everything else, yet held Fu Xiuyi's heart in an iron grip. If Fu Xiuyi showed the slightest favor toward other women, anxiety consumed her. The back palace overflowed with disputes—people setting traps and backstabbing one another. Her personality demanded immediate revenge when wronged, thus offending many. Now, this personality remained unchanged, but she no longer needed methods that would harm herself.

"Speaking of which, Second Miss Shen is indeed rarely beautiful and talented," Prince Zhou said, admiring her striking appearance. He added only, "What a pity."

Others might not understand the pity, but the princes certainly did. Shen Yue was beautiful and charming, with boundless talent. Having such a lovely companion who understood unspoken words by one's side might constitute one of life's great pleasures. The pity was that she hadn't been born from Madam Shen's womb. The pity was that she wasn't the daughter of the Shen family's first branch, but instead from the third.

The pity was that Shen Xin, who commanded heavy troops, had produced someone as worthless as Shen Miao. Even though she seemed somewhat different today, how could people's impressions change overnight? They believed Shen Miao's composure today merely reflected someone's guidance behind the scenes, while inside, she remained the fool who knew nothing.

After Gao Yan descended from the stage, Pei Lang's mood gradually settled. This was the first time in his life he had encountered such a situation. Though puzzled, he tried his best to calm his mind. Now hearing Prince Zhou's words, he couldn't help but glance at the purple-clad young woman in the women's section across from him.

She held a chess piece and tilted her head in thought. The distance prevented him from seeing her eyes clearly, but he could imagine the scrutiny and depth in her gaze—just like when Shen Miao looked at him. How could such a person be worthless?

But people truly couldn't change overnight. So had Shen Miao's previous stupidity all been an act? If so, why?

Even someone as intelligent as he couldn't decipher what was happening.

The women's "selection" ended with Shen Yue's "Ode to the Moon." Shen Yue naturally took first rank, but today she felt no delight in this achievement—instead, embarrassment colored her triumph.

She glanced at Shen Miao, who remained absorbed in a chess game, not looking at her at all. Shen Yue knew Shen Miao didn't understand zither, chess, calligraphy, or painting, so naturally wouldn't comprehend the chess game. Her intense focus now was merely to deliberately slight her. Chen Ruoqiu noticed her expression and reminded her softly, "Miss Yue, you're losing composure."

Chen Ruoqiu demanded that her daughter remain calm and composed regardless of what happened in any situation. Whether genuinely calm or pretending, she must always appear composed to others. Once a woman displayed composure, her temperament became superior—being flustered wasn't the dignity a noble family should possess. To be fair, Chen Ruoqiu's method of raising children was indeed excellent, and she executed it quite well. Unfortunately, Shen Yue was still too young. She had never experienced failure, nor did she understand how to endure silently.

Hearing Chen Ruoqiu's reminder, Shen Yue slightly withdrew the indignation from her face. Her maid Shuxiang handed her tea. "Miss, drink some tea to moisten your throat."

Shen Yue took the tea, looking at Shuxiang. Shuxiang smiled at her, and Shen Yue understood, her smile becoming more genuine. She said, "It's getting warm. I'm quite interested in the upcoming 'challenge.'"

Having just received first rank in "chess," Shen Qing was also in pleasant spirits and smiled. "This year there's no separation between men's and women's groups, nor between National Second and Third. The competition will surely be more intense."

Originally, the "challenge" was the most anticipated of the three events. Since "drawing" might not draw one's best skill, and "selection" involved choosing one's strength to perform, the "challenge" always occurred between the two most excellent competitors. In the women's group, the "challenge" wasn't too intense because young ladies always had to maintain harmony on the surface and display an indifferent attitude toward results. But young men were different—they loved using comparison to determine winners and losers. This age possessed the strongest desire for victory, so every year the "challenge" proved most intense.

This year's "challenge" didn't separate men and women, nor National Second and Third—all students could participate together. Whoever one wanted to challenge, one could naturally compete against them. However, despite this, there probably wouldn't be challenges between men and women.

This year, again, no one challenged in the literary category. The main event naturally fell into the martial category.

This almost eliminated the possibility of women participating. Although daughters of military officials knew martial arts, women were naturally weaker than men in strength, so they couldn't possibly succeed.

But from the men's section, Cai Lin was the first to stand and walk onto the stage.

The examining official asked what he was challenging, and he pointed to the "archery" lot, saying: "Archery."

Everyone understood. Cai Lin, this little tyrant, knew nothing about literary matters, but was outstanding in martial arts. He excelled especially in archery—he could hit the target with every shot and had won first rank in archery at last year's examination.

Who was he challenging today? Looking at everyone present, there wasn't anyone more outstanding in archery than him.

Cai Lin raised his chin and suddenly pointed to the women's section.

People were shocked when they saw he was pointing at the women rather than the men. When they saw whom he indicated, they were even more astonished, their mouths gaping, even stopping their discussions.

He deliberately said loudly once more: "I challenge her—Shen Miao!"

The purple-clad young woman immersed in the chess game looked up, her gaze clear and direct as she stared at the person on stage. Her expression showed no fluctuation, her movements made no error, as if this earth-shattering statement was merely a casual greeting, and she didn't even deign to answer.

Chen Ruoqiu frowned. She had devoted herself to teaching Shen Yue, yet Shen Miao seemed to have learned unperturbed composure.

In a distant pavilion, a handsome young man leisurely sipping tea spat it all out, his carefree expression showing a trace of surprise. "Has the Cai family lad gone mad?"

Shen Miao stood up. On the table, in the chess game, a black piece had crossed the boundary, advancing toward her side.

The first pawn had moved.

She picked up a white piece, and with one move, the black piece was captured and casually thrown into the chess basket.

"I accept," she said.