As Shen Yue’s melody came to an end, the audience was enchanted. A woman with outstanding zither skills would be admired anywhere, especially when she was also attractive. At least in the male guests’ section across from them, not to mention the children of National First who were too young, many young men from National Second and Third had their gazes turned this way. Although in terms of appearance at Guangwen Hall, Qin Qing was a level above, Qin Qing’s nature was proud—how could she compare to Shen Yue’s gentle and lovable 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 zither master to teach me.”

This was the age when young people loved to compete. Just like when Shen Miao had first been established as Empress, she had been relaxed about everything else, yet held Fu Xiuyi’s heart tightly. If Fu Xiuyi showed the slightest goodwill toward other women, she would be anxious. The back palace was full of disputes, with people setting traps and backstabbing others. She had the personality of immediately seeking revenge when wronged, thus offending many people. Now, this personality hadn’t changed at all, but she no longer needed to use 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 only added, “What a pity.”

Others might not understand what the pity was, but the princes certainly did. Shen Yue was beautiful and charming, with boundless talent. Having such a lovely flower who understood words by one’s side might be one of life’s great pleasures. The pity was that she hadn’t crawled out of Madam Shen’s belly, the pity was that she wasn’t the daughter of Shen family’s first branch, but instead from the third branch.

The pity was that Shen Xin, who commanded heavy troops, had produced a good-for-nothing like Shen Miao. Even though she seemed somewhat different today, how could people’s impressions change overnight? They believed Shen Miao’s composure today was merely due to 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 calmed. 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. It was too far to see 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 a good-for-nothing?

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 figure out what was going on.

The women’s group “selection” ended with Shen Yue’s “Ode to the Moon.” Shen Yue naturally took first rank, but today she wasn’t delighted by this achievement—instead, she felt somewhat embarrassed.

She glanced at Shen Miao, who was 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 she naturally wouldn’t understand 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 shows composure, her temperament becomes superior—being flustered isn’t the dignity a noble family should have. To be fair, Chen Ruoqiu’s method of teaching children was indeed good, and she did quite well. Unfortunately, Shen Yue was still too young and had never experienced failure, nor did she understand how to endure silently.

Hearing Chen Ruoqiu’s reminder, Shen Yue slightly withdrew the indignation on 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 in her heart, 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 a pleasant mood 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 the best, and “selection” was choosing one’s strength to perform, the “challenge” would always occur between the two most excellent people. In the women’s group, the “challenge” wasn’t too intense because young ladies always had to maintain harmony on the surface and show that they didn’t care much about the results, displaying an indifferent attitude. But young men were different—they loved to use comparison to determine winners and losers. This age had the strongest desire for victory, so every year the “challenge” was the 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 with them. However, despite saying 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 there were daughters of military officials who 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 up 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 was especially excellent 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 neck 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 who he was pointing at, they were even more astonished, their mouths gaping open, 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 crossed the boundary, coming 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.