The night was deep, and the candlelight flickered.

With a thud, A-Le, who had been dozing off, hit her head on the table and startled herself awake.

Chu Zhao laughed: “If you’re tired, go to sleep.”

A-Le rubbed her forehead and watched Chu Zhao seriously practicing calligraphy, with another person’s writing sample placed beside her.

A-Le recognized it as the writing of the young gentleman who had defeated her mistress earlier today.

Remembering this gentleman, A-Le’s expression turned angry. This gentleman had been extremely discourteous. Even after being declared the winner, he wouldn’t let the matter rest. He stood at the table, writing out many different styles, one sheet after another, and threw them at her mistress.

“Could this calligraphy possibly defeat you?”

“Could this calligraphy possibly defeat you?”

He asked repeatedly, and her mistress could only answer “Yes” over and over.

She had been furious at the time, almost wanting to strike this arrogant scholar, but her mistress remained calm and endured his humiliation. After the arrogant scholar left with a flick of his sleeve, amid the laughter of onlookers, her mistress bent down and picked up all these papers.

A-Le had planned to burn these writings, unlike the others that were collected and organized—now all the competition manuscripts from Chu Garden were being collected by her mistress and handed over to the publishing house.

Unexpectedly, her mistress wouldn’t let her burn them, and instead studied them while copying the styles all night long.

“His calligraphy is excellent. I had learned some before and was about to master it, but Xiao—”

Chu Zhao stopped there. A-Le, who had been listening attentively, asked in confusion: “Xiao, what?”

Xiao Xun had taken a new consort, a beauty who played the zither exceptionally well. Xiao Xun listened to her play every day, and they performed duets together—Xiao Xun himself was an excellent zither player.

So she had abandoned calligraphy and rushed to learn the zither—

“Nothing,” Chu Zhao smiled at A-Le. “I was too young, impatient, lazy, unable to prioritize, lacking in judgment, blind—I didn’t continue learning. Now that I have this opportunity, I’ll pick it up again and study it properly.”

Although she found the phrase “blind” somewhat strange, A-Le nodded quickly: “Mistress is doing the right thing. This is what they call, ‘When walking with others, one must find a teacher among them.'”

Chu Zhao clapped her hands: “A-Le, you’re impressive! You even know what Confucius said.”

A-Le chuckled: “After hearing so much every day, I certainly can’t listen to nothing.”

She looked at the girl in the lamplight. The girl had visibly lost weight, even thinner than when they were traveling through the wilderness.

During the day, her mistress would hold three competitions, battling ten people each time. Although it wasn’t horseback riding, archery, or fighting, by the end of each session, A-Le could see her mistress’s hand trembling as she held the brush, her eyes bloodshot, her body as thin as paper, looking as if she might collapse at any moment.

The mental and spiritual exertion alone could wear someone to death.

But after a table full of food and a hot bath, her mistress would be energized again, studying at night, competing during the day, then studying again at night, repeating this cycle day after day, growing thinner and thinner.

Yet her mistress hadn’t become withered and weak, but rather shone more brilliantly with each passing day.

A-Le took a deep breath and said: “Mistress works so hard, A-Le can’t fall behind.”

Chu Zhao reached out to stroke A-Le’s cheek: “I’ll stop after writing one more piece. Besides studying, we need to stay healthy. Let’s sleep early, and remember to wake me up for archery practice in the morning.”

A-Le nodded: “Don’t worry, Mistress.” She continued, “When the time comes, Mistress can compete with them in archery, shooting one arrow after another at them, never missing, grazing their faces, and asking them, ‘Are you afraid? Are you afraid?”

Chu Zhao laughed heartily.

“Miss A-Zhao! Miss A-Zhao!” A maid entered joyfully, holding a piece of paper.

This maid wasn’t from Chu Zhao’s household but served Chu Ke.

Chu Ke, who prided himself as a refined scholar, required his maids to read and write as well. Though they rarely used these skills in daily life—Chu Ke didn’t take them along when socializing, nor did he check their reading and writing when he returned home—he simply wanted them to understand and appreciate his poetry, reading, and writing, so they could praise and admire him.

But this time, their skills proved useful.

Chu Zhao had A-Le recruit them to monitor the competition venue, record and transcribe, and compile the materials into books.

Chu Zhao looked at the maid and asked with a smile: “Why aren’t you asleep yet? If today’s work isn’t finished, just wake up earlier tomorrow to complete it. Don’t stay up late.”

The maid felt somewhat moved. After Miss A-Zhao had arrived at the family home, Master Ke disliked his cousin and forbade them from getting close to her, lest they be contaminated by her crude and shallow nature.

Later, Miss A-Zhao first beat Miss Liang, then stole money from the family and ran away. After returning, it took just a few days before she beat Master Ke until his face was bruised and swollen, too embarrassed to be seen—truly fierce and uncouth.

After Miss A-Zhao was surrounded by people demanding to compete with her, Master Ke and Miss Tang both went into hiding, leaving these maids with nowhere to escape. They were then recruited by Chu Zhao—

But Miss A-Zhao didn’t abuse or beat them; she simply gave them work to do.

At first, they were nervous and clumsy, but Miss A-Zhao didn’t beat or scold them, telling them to take their time.

Now, her first words were to ask why they weren’t resting.

In truth, Master Ke was also a very gentle young man, always calling them “sister this” and “sister that,” often bringing them treats and toys from the streets, accustomed to hearing pleasant words.

But somehow, Miss A-Zhao’s single question softened her heart completely.

“I was just about to sleep. Everything that needs to be sent for printing tomorrow has been prepared,” the maid said softly, then continued with excitement: “Mistress, look at these past few days.”

She placed the paper on the table. A-Le peered over and saw circles and crosses, recognizing it as a record of wins and losses.

“Mistress, in these three days, you’ve won one more match each day than the previous day,” the maid said happily.

Chu Zhao laughed heartily: “That’s wonderful.”

Was winning just one more match each day that good? Was it worth the maid being so happy? A-Le felt that the maids in the capital were more like country folk. She snorted: “Mistress will win several more matches each day in the future, winning more and more.”

In the past, the maid would have found A-Le’s words crude—how could someone praise their master so directly and boastfully? It was utterly low-class. But at this moment, she didn’t find it inappropriate at all.

She had never imagined she would be happy about a girl winning just one more match each day than the day before.

The master was a renowned minister and scholar, and Miss Tang was known throughout the city for her intelligence. She wasn’t an inexperienced country maid.

Her gaze fell on the desk, covered with stacks of books, papers, chess diagrams, and worn-out brushes.

This day-by-day increase in victories was earned by the girl’s desperate efforts.

Effort yielding results was truly exciting.

“Mistress,” she looked at Chu Zhao, her gaze both gentle and firm, “You will win more and more.”

Chu Zhao smiled, her expression calm: “As long as I dare to compete, I won’t always lose.”

In her previous life, she had studied to please a man, then abandoned it because of a man. Now her knowledge was reviving and flourishing anew. This time, it wasn’t to please a man, but to win fame for herself.

When people mentioned her, they wouldn’t say, “That useless daughter of Chu Li.”

Nor would they say, “A useless father produces a useless daughter.”