TGPSAC – Chapter 66

The Spring Festival Banquet officially began. After the Emperor and Empress were seated, an official from the Ministry of Rites started to give a speech. The content was nothing new, quite conventional, really—mostly just praise for the Emperor.

Chi Wan was growing drowsy, so she started playing with the hem of Yu Jiuzhou’s robes under the table.

Yu Jiuzhou discreetly slapped the back of her hand. She probably behaved for all of five minutes before her attention was drawn to the scented sachet at Yu Jiuzhou’s waist.

“Behave yourself,” Yu Jiuzhou finally couldn’t help but whisper.

If she kept this up, wouldn’t her robes get all wrinkled by the time she had to stand?

Chi Wan innocently withdrew her hand. “When Your Highness rushed to the imperial study just now, did you think I was being beaten up?”

That was indeed the case, but how could Yu Jiuzhou admit it? She pretended not to hear.

“Why is Your Highness ignoring me? Is it because I guessed correctly? Seeing Your Highness so worried about your subject, I was truly moved.”

Hearing her switch between “I” and “your subject,” Yu Jiuzhou knew she was up to no good again.

“Be quiet!” Yu Jiuzhou chided softly.

Chi Wan immediately feigned grievance. “You’re being mean to me.”

Yu Jiuzhou was helpless. She stole a glance at Chi Wan and saw her with her head lowered, looking quite wronged.

Her heart softened inexplicably. Under the table, her hand crept toward Chi Wan, and she poked her leg with a finger.

The two of them shared a single table and were seated very close. The fabric of Yu Jiuzhou’s robes pressed against Chi Wan’s, a proximity they rarely shared.

Feeling the touch of those cool fingertips on her leg, Chi Wan felt a chill spread from the other’s touch throughout her entire body. In that instant, a languid weakness washed over her, making her swallow drily.

She picked up the teacup on the table and took a sip, her expression slightly unnatural.

Just then, the official from the Ministry of Rites finished his speech, and many palace maids began serving dishes and wine. Chi Wan stared at the tabletop, her face impassive.

She didn’t move even after all the dishes were served, not a single extra expression on her face. Yu Jiuzhou thought she was genuinely angry and reached out to tug the corner of Chi Wan’s sleeve.

Chi Wan looked over in confusion, only to see Yu Jiuzhou’s profile.

Yu Jiuzhou sat upright, her beautiful eyes fixed forward, but the hand hidden inside her sleeve was pulling at the corner of Chi Wan’s sleeve.

Chi Wan was charmed by this contrast. So prim and proper on the surface, yet acting like a child under her sleeve—it was truly amusing.

She raised the corners of her lips. “What is Your Highness doing?”

Hearing the clear amusement in Chi Wan’s question, Yu Jiuzhou knew she had been tricked again.

Fooled every day, and every day it was the same trick.

Every time Chi Wan got angry, even when it was obviously feigned, Yu Jiuzhou would feel a tiny bit of anxiety. Even if she didn’t say it, she would always make some sort of compensatory gesture.

This feeling had only appeared recently. She found it hard to explain why. Perhaps it was because she now considered Chi Wan an important person, and that was why she cared so much about her feelings.

Yu Jiuzhou’s lips curved slightly. A mischievous thought suddenly occurred to her: what would Chi Wan do if she herself got angry?

She put on a cold face and said nothing, even adjusting her sleeve so that her robes no longer touched Chi Wan’s.

Watching her actions, Chi Wan was taken aback. She carefully poured her a cup of tea. “Your Highness?”

Chi Wan’s voice was very soft, as if testing the waters.

Yu Jiuzhou was very satisfied with this attitude. It felt like a feather was brushing against her heart—a ticklish sensation that was hard to resist.

Seeing that Yu Jiuzhou still wasn’t speaking, Chi Wan blinked and secretly shifted her sleeve to the side. They were both wearing magnificent ceremonial robes, which were quite large. With their hands hidden inside, any movements were completely invisible.

Chi Wan’s eyes were fixed elsewhere as her hand slowly moved sideways. When she felt it touch something, she grabbed it directly.

Hm?

Yu Jiuzhou: “?”

Only then did Chi Wan realize she had grabbed Yu Jiuzhou’s hand. She even gave it a curious squeeze.

The other’s soft, cool hand was held in her palm, and she had squeezed it as if taking advantage. Wait, surely Yu Jiuzhou didn’t think she was taking advantage of her, did she?

Was it too late to explain?

Just as Chi Wan was about to speak, the Emperor raised his wine cup. “Let everyone enjoy themselves at today’s banquet. We are also looking forward to this year’s winners.”

“To liven up the Spring Festival Banquet, the Empress and I have prepared prizes.”

The Empress: What? Who prepared them?

The Empress was speechless but began to wonder what she had on her person that could be used as a prize.

The Emperor didn’t care. The words were already out; even if there was nothing, there had to be something now. “This year’s Poetry Champion will be awarded the post of Junior Scribe of the Ninth Rank in the Ministry of Rites. The Polo Champion will be awarded the post of Valiant Commandant in the Tiger and Cavalry Army. The Brocade Flower Champion will be granted marriage to Prince Bao’an.”

Even the Poetry Champion was being awarded an official post? Although the ninth-rank scribe position was likely something the Emperor had just come up with, the main event was becoming Prince Bao’an’s princess consort.

Prince Bao’an did not yet have a primary consort, only a few concubines in his residence.

At these words, the crowd erupted. Some warned their family’s Kun Ze not to stand out, that it was better not to take sides while the heir apparent was not yet decided. Others urged their family’s Kun Ze to win at all costs.

The high-ranking officials who hadn’t sided with Prince Bao’an mostly didn’t want their Kun Ze to win. Only some officials who hoped to climb the social ladder through their family’s Kun Ze were desperate for a victory.

This number wasn’t large, but it certainly wasn’t small either.

Prince Bao’an was reasonably handsome and had just earned great merit from his salt inspection tour. The only question was whether he could become the heir apparent.

If he became the heir, his consort would be the heir’s consort. But if he failed, it would be a dead end.

The fight for the throne was brutal. No new emperor would spare those who had once vied with him for the crown.

Chi Wan’s eyes widened in shock. Right, she had almost forgotten. At the Spring Festival Banquet in the twenty-eighth year of the Shengyuan era, the Brocade Flower Champion became Prince Bao’an’s consort.

As she raised her cup, she deliberately covered her lips. “Which one is the Duke of Xin?”

Chi Wan remembered the novel mentioning it was the Kun Ze from the Duke of Xin’s family.

Yu Jiuzhou gave Chi Wan a deep look. She had noticed something: Chi Wan knew about many events, but she couldn’t match the people to them.

She knew the names, but not who was who.

In the previous life, Prince Bao’an’s primary consort was indeed the Kun Ze from the Duke of Xin’s family. Chi Wan knew this, yet she didn’t recognize the Duke of Xin.

Yu Jiuzhou had always wanted to figure out Chi Wan’s identity, but she wouldn’t ask. It wasn’t that she couldn’t, but that she was enjoying it—enjoying the pleasure of peeling back Chi Wan’s layers one by one.

Once she dispelled the mist, she would be able to see Chi Wan’s truest self.

She found the process very interesting. Besides, what she discovered herself was far more credible than what others told her.

Unless, one day, Chi Wan took the initiative to tell her where she came from.

But that would be a pity, for she would miss out on the pleasure of unraveling a cocoon thread by thread.

Chi Wan actually knew that Yu Jiuzhou had a slightly obsessive streak, which she found to be a unique kind of charm.

Yu Jiuzhou was calm in the face of any situation, resolving everything without showing a hint of emotion. That was why Chi Wan had liked the character of Yu Jiuzhou so much when she read the novel.

Especially behind Yu Jiuzhou’s cold and ascetic demeanor, there was a hint of gloom and obsession. It had the contrast of a lofty flower falling from its divine pedestal and becoming demonic, which Chi Wan particularly liked.

But at that time, Yu Jiuzhou was just a character in a book, and her affection was very simple.

If Chi Wan knew that this obsessive streak of Yu Jiuzhou’s would be directed at her, who knows what she would think.

Feeling Yu Jiuzhou’s gaze, Chi Wan looked over with clear, innocent eyes, her expression asking: What’s wrong?

Yu Jiuzhou’s face was impassive. Despite the myriad thoughts in her mind, she maintained a placid tone. “The one sitting next to Prince Bao’an.”

Chi Wan looked over and saw a man with a scruffy beard. It was clear he had been weathered by wind and sun, lacking the fair complexion of ordinary nobles. He looked like a military man at a glance.

For the New Year, generals stationed abroad were required to return to offer greetings and report on their work.

Moreover, the Emperor felt his health was failing, which was why he had summoned all the generals stationed outside the capital. The only one who hadn’t returned was the Duke of Wei.

Great Zhou had four dukes. Yu Jiuzhou’s maternal family, the Xu family’s Duke of Wei, was the foremost, followed by the Duke of Xin, the Duke of E, and the Duke of Han.

Among them, the Xu family guarded the East Sea, while the Duke of Xin guarded the northern frontier. Of course, the Duke of Xin was not the only general in the north; he simply held the highest rank, but other military camps would not listen to his orders.

The twelve cities of the northern frontier had an army of two hundred thousand. The hundred thousand soldiers under the Duke of Xin’s command were separate. The two hundred thousand were stationed within the cities, while the Duke of Xin’s hundred thousand were in military camps, much like the Five Army Camps, forbidden from entering the cities without a decree.

There was another hundred-thousand-strong army in the north under the command of the Marquis of Pingliang, who had not returned this time.

Chi Wan knew about this. She remembered that the Marquis of Pingliang was one of Yu Jiuzhou’s people. When Yu Jiuzhou died, the Marquis had immediately led her troops in rebellion.

The Marquis of Pingliang was the youngest general in Great Zhou. She inherited her title at ten, joined the army at sixteen, and in just seven years, rose to command an entire army.

The Emperor trusted her deeply; one could say she was raised by the Emperor, and she grew up alongside Yu Jiuzhou.

The Emperor had ordered her to return for a marriage, but she refused to come back, even stating in a letter: I will find someone I love and will never accept an arranged marriage.

The Emperor was furious with her but was also at a loss. Compared to Yu Jiuzhou, the Emperor probably doted on the Marquis of Pingliang even more.

In terms of seniority, the Marquis of Pingliang was the granddaughter of the Emperor’s paternal aunt. He had a good relationship with his aunt, so naturally, he treated her granddaughter well too.

Chi Wan remembered the novel saying that the Marquis of Pingliang admired the Grand Princess and never married. Upon learning of Yu Jiuzhou’s death, she immediately raised an army in rebellion. Although she ultimately failed, she came close to reaching the capital and deposing Prince Bao’an.

One could only say that the Prince Bao’an in the novel was a child of fortune.

A ridiculous thought suddenly popped into Chi Wan’s head: I wonder if the Marquis of Pingliang is good-looking.

She wasn’t just curious; she was a little jealous. But Chi Wan quickly found an excuse for herself. After all, Yu Jiuzhou was her wife. It was only natural for her to feel jealous when someone else coveted her wife, right?

Huh? She seemed to have gotten sidetracked.

Chi Wan realized her mind had wandered and quickly pulled it back. Now was not the time to be jealous. She glanced at the Duke of Xin again, then retracted her gaze. “Your Highness, you must know who the final winner will be, right?”

She was already playing with her cards on the table. Ever since their relationship had progressed by leaps and bounds, she had become less guarded around Yu Jiuzhou.

After all, with so many instances of foreknowledge during their discussions, it was obvious what was going on.

Yu Jiuzhou picked up her wine cup. On her table was sweet wine. She had noticed Chi Wan liked it last time, so she had instructed the servants to place sweet wine at her table.

Besides, Chi Wan could use her internal energy to expel the alcohol from her system.

She had just seen Chi Wan lift the cup to her nose and sniff it. Her eyes had lit up, and then she started drinking, like a greedy little cat, downing one cup after another.

Then, steam began to rise from Chi Wan’s palm. There probably weren’t many who drank wine while simultaneously using their internal energy to expel the alcohol.

It was a little amusing, and a little cute.

Yu Jiuzhou was observing the wine-loving Chi Wan out of the corner of her eye when she heard her question.

The two of them had displayed foreknowledge quite a bit recently. Some things couldn’t be hidden, and she had no intention of hiding them from Chi Wan.

It wasn’t that she was certain Chi Wan would never betray her, but rather that she knew Chi Wan’s death would be assured if she so wished.

The current Chi Wan had offended too many people. She could easily kill Chi Wan and pin the blame on someone else.

So she wasn’t afraid of Chi Wan speaking out. If she did, it would be a blatant betrayal, and she was never soft on those who betrayed her.

Of course, Yu Jiuzhou didn’t want Chi Wan to betray her. She hoped the two of them could get along well for a lifetime, a harmonious relationship between ruler and subject, worthy of being recorded in the annals of history.

“The Duke of Xin wants his Kun Ze daughter to be Prince Bao’an’s primary consort.”

Otherwise, given the current situation, Prince Ying had a much better chance of winning. In terms of probability, Prince Ying’s chances were at least seventy percent, while Prince Bao’an’s were likely less than thirty.

The difference was that Prince Ying already had a primary consort, while Prince Bao’an did not. If Prince Bao’an ascended the throne, the House of the Duke of Xin would become legitimate imperial relatives by marriage, surpassing the Xu family to become the foremost ducal house in Great Zhou.

It was important to know that the Dukedom of Xin was not hereditary without demotion; it was hereditary with demotion. After three generations, the title would be lowered, and they would eventually fade into obscurity.

Great Zhou had three types of title succession: hereditary without demotion, hereditary with demotion, and title removed upon death.

The House of the Duke of Xin had already reached its third generation. The next generation would see the title demoted from Duke to Marquis.

If the Duke of Xin wanted to ensure his house remained a ducal house, he needed the merit of supporting a new emperor.

In Great Zhou, apart from the hereditary titles granted by the founding emperors, the rest of the titles gradually diminished. The Duke of Xin also coveted a hereditary title.

By allying with Prince Bao’an through marriage and supporting him, he could successfully become an imperial relative and obtain a hereditary dukedom.

Hereditary titles without demotion were very rare in Great Zhou. The Chi family was one such case. Hereditary titles with demotion were not numerous either. Most titles were for life; after the titleholder died, the family lost its noble status. The title was removed upon death and could not be inherited.

Chi Wan’s title was different; it was a hereditary title with demotion, meaning her daughter and granddaughter could also inherit the rank of Earl.

Hereditary titles without demotion were not easy to obtain. One either had to have outstanding military achievements, making it necessary to grant such a title, or have saved the emperor’s life, or have the merit of supporting a new emperor.

The Duke of Xin had probably been plotting this for a long time. He had hesitated because Prince Bao’an had little standing compared to the other two princes. Now, with Prince Zhongshan branded a rebel, Prince Ying, though seemingly glorious, was like cooking with oil over a raging fire—one misstep could lead to the ruin of his entire clan.

Based on the Duke of Xin’s understanding of the current Emperor, he would never allow someone who had the support of the majority of officials to exist in the court.

And Prince Bao’an, with his great merit from the salt inspection tour, had entered the Emperor’s sight. The Duke of Xin felt that, compared to Prince Ying, Prince Bao’an had a better chance. Coupled with the hundred thousand troops under his command, he might just be able to contend with Prince Ying.

Yu Jiuzhou’s guess about the Duke of Xin’s thoughts was more or less accurate. With her reminder, Chi Wan also figured it out.

The struggle for the throne was filled with conflict and traps at every turn.

“Will Your Highness be participating later?”

Hearing Chi Wan’s question, Yu Jiuzhou smiled. “If I were to compete, no one else would be able to win.”

Chi Wan thought Yu Jiuzhou was confident in her own abilities, but it turned out Yu Jiuzhou meant that no judge would dare let her, the Grand Princess, lose.

Well, it was all “ability.” Who was to say that power wasn’t a form of ability?

Chi Wan looked at Yu Jiuzhou curiously. “Does Your Highness know Cuju and Touhu?”

She knew Yu Jiuzhou occasionally wrote poetry. While not the kind that would be immortalized through the ages, it was still of high quality.

But she really didn’t know about Cuju and Touhu. In her eyes, Yu Jiuzhou seemed rather frail.

To her surprise, Yu Jiuzhou let out a light snort. “Of course I do.”

She was very good at Cuju as a child, but unfortunately, her mother, the Empress, forbade it. When her mother found out she had formed a Cuju team and even played herself, she was punished by having to copy books for a long time. After that, she never played Cuju again.

She did play Touhu often as a child, but always in secret. It was easier to hide than Cuju, so her mother never found out.

But when people asked a Kun Ze about their talents for the Brocade Flower Champion competition, Chi Wan was probably the first to ask if a Kun Ze woman knew Cuju and Touhu.

This was all due to preconceived notions. Why couldn’t Kun Ze women play Cuju and Touhu? In the past, Kun Ze were allowed to participate in Cuju and Touhu competitions.

Chi Wan gave off a feeling that everyone was equal. She didn’t think Qian Yuan were noble, nor did she think Kun Ze were inferior. It was just that, compared to Kun Ze men, Chi Wan hoped to see Kun Ze women come to the forefront.

To Chi Wan, they were all women, and it was only right for women to help women.

But the female Qian Yuan in this world were just as predatory as the male Qian Yuan. She hated this societal atmosphere.

In her world, when she participated in free traditional medicine clinics, not only were the elderly patients surrounded by people, but even the young male doctors had patients. She was the only one with no one around her, despite the fact that many of those present had once been her defeated rivals.

She knew what that felt like, so she would never do such a thing herself.

She just didn’t know when it started, but the Spring Festival Banquet in Great Zhou began to have separate seating. Male and female Qian Yuan and Kun Ze did not sit together, and not everyone could participate in the events, which were also segregated.

This time, Yu Jiuzhou had restored the Spring Festival Banquet to its original form. Everyone sat together and participated in the same events.

She had also long since had the rules circulated. She knew that not many Kun Ze women would participate in Cuju, but whether they participated or not was their own business; it shouldn’t be because others forbade them.

Why couldn’t Kun Ze participate in Cuju? In the past, a Kun Ze woman had won the polo championship.

Compared to polo, Cuju was more popular among the common people. Not that polo was bad, but Cuju originated much earlier. The difference was that polo required riding a horse, while for Cuju, one just needed to be good at kicking a ball.

For the common folk, polo required a horse, while Cuju cost less. In places like Shengjing, Cuju on ice was very popular.

But many noble houses liked to host polo matches, inviting guests from all over. Among the noble families, polo matches were a major social event.

Most importantly, polo also took a long time, and the time allotted for the Spring Festival Banquet was limited.

Chi Wan couldn’t help but wonder how dashing Yu Jiuzhou would look, riding a horse and striking a ball.

“Your Highness, how about we go riding together another day?”

Even if they didn’t play polo, they could still go for a ride in the countryside. It was perfectly normal for friends to go out for fun and food together.

Yu Jiuzhou looked up, a faint smile on her lips. “I’m not going.”

“Hmph, stingy.” Chi Wan huffily downed a mouthful of sweet wine, which made Yu Jiuzhou’s smile become more obvious.

Then, the official from the Ministry of Rites announced, “We invite everyone to compose a poem. Please sign your name and submit it. It will be judged by the scholars of the Hanlin Academy, with a final review by His Majesty, Her Majesty the Empress, Her Highness the Grand Princess, and two princes from the imperial clan.”

Everyone? Everyone could compose a poem, not just the Qian Yuan?

The eyes of many young men and women who had come to the banquet with their families lit up. Regardless of whether they were from military or civil official families, no one would prevent their children from studying. As long as they had the means, both Qian Yuan and Kun Ze were required to study.

Kun Ze didn’t have to become officials, but they needed to be sensible. No one wanted their children to be illiterate. Besides, the rule for marriage was to marry up for women and marry down for men.

Sometimes, a good marriage could benefit the entire family. If the family heir was incompetent, they might need their sisters to give them a hand.

Therefore, families with the ability would educate all their children equally. But for some families of minor officials with limited resources, they could only afford to educate one, so they would prioritize the heir.

The families who could attend the Spring Festival Banquet at the imperial palace were no ordinary families. Being literate and educated was normal, and composing poetry wasn’t difficult. The difficulty lay in winning the title of Poetry Champion.

Chi Wan tilted her head and asked, “Is Your Highness going to compose a poem?”

“You do it.”

“Huh?”

Chi Wan was stunned. Why should she compose a poem? Her calligraphy was decent, but poetry was difficult for her.

But since Her Highness had said so, should she give it a try?

So Chi Wan picked up a brush and wrote on the paper: Spring Festival Banquet, To Her Highness the Grand Princess of Qin.

Yu Jiuzhou glanced at it. She had only been refusing Chi Wan’s suggestion that she herself write a poem, not telling Chi Wan to write one.

But Chi Wan had even written that this poem was for her. If the finished poem was not good, how could she hide it? Or should she help Chi Wan polish it?

She had never heard that Chi Wan could write poetry. She had to admit, she was a little expectant.

She watched as Chi Wan put brush to paper—Spring rain has just passed, the sky begins to clear, plum blossoms remain while the snow has yet to melt.

Hmm… Yu Jiuzhou silently judged: Average.

The wind teases the hundred flowers, stirring foolish affection, clouds and mist dance together, a long admiration.

Yu Jiuzhou’s judgment: Not bad.

The next line: My feelings, already deep, are tied to Jiuzhou, my ambition is to grasp the high clouds and guard my homeland.

Yu Jiuzhou blushed: Is it Jiuzhou the realm, or Jiuzhou the person?

If Chi Wan were to answer, she would surely say: Your Highness knows about puns?

The final line: When my name is left in the annals of history, my deeds complete, I wish to raise a cup with you and get drunk on this life.

Chi Wan knew what she wrote was terrible, but she had written everything she wanted to say. The parts about the spring rain, plum blossoms, wind teasing flowers, and dancing clouds were just filler. The last two couplets were the main point.

Her feelings were tied to “Jiuzhou,” which was actually “Jiuzhou,” a pun. Then, she showed that she wasn’t a slacker, that she had ambitions too.

The final line concluded that no matter what her ambitions were, what she wanted most was to spend this life with the Grand Princess.

Chi Wan poured the sweet wine into her cup and raised it towards Yu Jiuzhou.

She felt this was a great joy in life. Drinking sweet wine and flirting with the Grand Princess—how could that not be happiness?

Yu Jiuzhou was filled with shyness. What was this? Submitting this poem was no different from a public display of affection. It was truly embarrassing.

Before Yu Jiuzhou could say anything, Chi Wan had someone take the poem away.

Then she thought, it was common for scholars to express their admiration through poetry. They were partners, after all. A single poem was nothing.

Soon, the poem was delivered to the Emperor’s table. Regardless of whether the poem was good or not, it had Chi Wan’s name on it, so it had to be presented to the Emperor.

And Chi Wan’s poem wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad either. One could only say it was decent.

The Emperor looked at the poem before him with a satisfied expression. “This poem will not be part of the competition. We will gift the Fuma a set of luminous cups tributed from the Western Regions.”

“Someone, set this poem to music. We want this poem to be sung for all time.”

What???

Chi Wan was dumbfounded. She knew what kind of nonsense she had written. Why was the Emperor going all out like this? Was she going to be embarrassed for a thousand years?

She hoped this poem wouldn’t be passed down. It was too awkward.

What was the difference between this and dying without clearing your browser history?

Chi Wan stole a glance at Yu Jiuzhou and saw that she was also embarrassed. She immediately grinned like a little fox. “Your Highness won’t blame me, will you?”

“Hmph.”

Yu Jiuzhou suddenly asked, “Which ‘zhou’ is it?”

“Hm?” Chi Wan was stunned for a moment, then suddenly understood. “It’s the ‘zhou’ from Yu Jiuzhou.”

Yu Jiuzhou’s heart softened. A tingling, numb sensation washed over her, and her body felt weak, giving her the impulse to move a little closer to Chi Wan.

Chi Wan was also a little embarrassed. After saying such words, her ears burned fiercely. It felt like she was confessing her love.

She secretly glanced at Yu Jiuzhou and saw that her expression remained unchanged. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or more disappointed.

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