It was like awakening from a brief dream. As Han Yan finished her final stroke and set down the brush, opening her eyes to give everyone a sweet smile, the audience finally came back to their senses.
“Are you finished, Miss Li?” the Empress asked, harboring fondness for this young girl and admiring her even more now as she shone brilliantly.
“Reporting to Your Majesty, not yet.” Han Yan turned, reaching for a wine vessel from the palace maid’s silver tray: “May I borrow a drop of fine wine!” She held the cup, poured the wine, and with her fingertip, touched a single drop to the paper, adding a subtle golden yellow to the painting.
The wine was Huanhua brew, made from various fresh flowers, with a sweet taste and bright, clear yellow color. Applied to the painting, this hint of yellow created a striking contrast against the black and white ink.
Han Yan nodded, and two young palace maids came forward to present the paper, mounted on red silk and gold wood, to the Emperor and Empress. Upon seeing the painting, the Emperor’s gaze froze, and he remained silent for a long while.
The assembled guests, not knowing what had happened, grew anxious at the Emperor’s silence and increasingly curious about the painting. Zhuang Yushan and Li Jiaqi exchanged glances, both puzzled. Seeing the Emperor’s displeased expression, they grew more gleeful, assuming Han Yan’s poor painting had angered him. The Empress looked at the painting with an inscrutable expression. Just as everyone was growing restless, the Emperor suddenly burst into loud laughter: “Show everyone this painting!”
The palace maids hurried to display the paper before the assembled guests. When they saw its contents, the entire hall fell silent.
Just spots of ink, appropriately distributed between light and dark, seemingly freely applied yet incredibly precise. Below the beacon towers with rising smoke, victorious cavalry returned, soldiers below, and in the distance, a striking touch of yellow marked the Emperor’s figure.
Han Yan had painted a triumphant scene of troops returning victorious from battle, showing the Emperor’s authority and the prosperity of the realm!
Most surprising wasn’t the content but the small poem written in the blank space: “A hundred battles shattered iron armor on sandy fields, South of the city multiple circles surround. Breaking through the camp to shoot down General Huyan, Leading thousand remaining riders home alone.”
In just a few strokes, she had depicted the image of a heroic general with glorious military achievements. This mere girl of about ten portrayed it as if she had experienced it herself. Most remarkable was the calligraphy—strong as iron yet graceful as silver hooks, powerful yet elegant, like shattered ice in a jade vessel or scattered moonlight on a jade terrace, gentle as trees, serene as fresh wind. Without witnessing it, who would believe such masterful brushwork came from this sweet-smiling girl with hair in buns?
They say handwriting reveals character—such spirit was truly rare!
After their initial shock, Zhuang Yushan and Li Jiaqi were left with endless hatred. With Han Yan stealing the spotlight, Zhuang Yushan lost her chance to perform. Why! If she were the Zhuang family’s legitimate eldest daughter, the hall’s praise would be hers now. These thoughts filled her gaze with jealousy.
Li Jiaqi was furious beyond reason. The more she looked at Han Yan’s smiling face, the more fake it seemed. To have such talent yet hide it so well, and to act troubled earlier, letting her feel triumphant—she had been toying with her. The pride of the Right Minister’s daughter had been insulted, and she marked Han Yan as her greatest enemy for life.
Han Yan winked secretly at Deng Chan, indicating all was well. Deng Chan was both excited and confused—when had Han Yan’s calligraphy become so excellent? When she stood writing earlier, Deng Chan almost felt she wasn’t Han Yan, her silhouette strange yet dazzling, almost impossible to look at directly.
While everyone was lost in thought, Han Yan stood alone in the hall, yet seemed to stand outside the mortal world. Looking at the ink marks, scenes from her previous life flashed before her eyes like passing lanterns.
No one knew the price paid for such masterful calligraphy. In her previous life, after the bandit incident, she had isolated herself, staying locked in Qingqiu Garden. Plagued by nightmares every night, unable to sleep, she would light oil lamps and pass time writing and painting, temporarily forgetting those dark shadows.
There are no such things as natural geniuses—it’s all about familiarity. Practice anything a hundred times, a thousand times and even the worst will achieve seventy percent proficiency. Though her calligraphy had been ordinary in her previous life, those countless sleepless nights had created today’s artistic mastery.
The smile on her lips carried a hint of bitterness—people only see the glory, not the blood and tears behind it.
The handsome young man quietly observed the small figure in the hall. Her obvious melancholy and pain once again startled him and made him more curious. All signs showed this young girl’s behavior was unlike someone her age—what had happened to her?
The Emperor laughed heartily, saying “good” three times: “I never expected our Great Song to have such talent! Such spirit truly shows that women can match men!”
Indeed, compared to Princess Yunni’s dance and Li Jiaqi’s zither, this painting and calligraphy abandoned feminine delicacy for an unexpected victory. They say handwriting reveals character—the graceful, talented brushwork showed the girl’s open-minded nature. Few girls would paint battlefield scenes, showing Fourth Miss Zhuang’s broad vision, more worldly than other young ladies. In comparison, Li Jiaqi’s music piece now seemed inferior.
The martial officials present particularly appreciated Han Yan. Rarely did they meet such an unaffected young girl, speaking frankly and innocently—impossible not to like.
Han Yan bowed again before smiling: “This painting celebrates Great Song’s northwestern victory. General Cheng, slaying enemies on the battlefield, is truly our dynasty’s hero, just as in the poem. With Your Majesty as such a wise ruler and General Cheng as such a subject, our dynasty will surely grow more prosperous and powerful.”
She smiled at General Cheng, who started slightly, seemingly surprised by her words. Meeting her clear eyes, he became somewhat abashed: “This humble subject merely did his duty—I dare not accept the title of hero.”
The Emperor laughed heartily: “General Cheng needn’t be modest. I know you’re a great contributor this time. Miss Zhuang speaks truly—with you, our Great Song’s realm will grow even more prosperous!”
The atmosphere instantly became lively. Seeing the Emperor’s great pleasure, the officials rushed to praise General Cheng’s achievements and extol heaven’s blessing on Great Song. Han Yan felt relieved—though it was a talent competition among noble ladies, today’s banquet was ultimately to celebrate the northwestern victory. Her words had brought the focus back and indirectly shown goodwill toward General Cheng. This General Cheng was upright and honest and would become an important confidant in the Crown Prince’s faction in the future.