Chapter 16: The Hundred Flowers Banquet (1)
It wasn't until midnight that the steward who had gone to Yuntan Mountain returned to report. As Jicheng had predicted, the Five Dragon Chrysanthemums thrived in cold weather. While people at the mountain's peak still wore layered clothing, those at the base had already switched to light silk robes. Censor Du, who had painstakingly cultivated these rare chrysanthemums blooming in April, naturally refused to take unnecessary risks.
The next morning, after hearing Shen Yuan's account, Jicheng lowered her head in thought. "I have an idea. Let's create an ice cover for the chrysanthemums with small ventilation holes. This would maintain the cold environment while allowing sunlight through. The mist from melting ice might also create an ethereal viewing effect."
Shen Yuan's eyes lit up. "Brilliant! Why didn't I think of that?"
She immediately informed Lady Huang and had two massive ice blocks retrieved from the cellar. Servants carved them into protective domes—one transported in a copper-lined ice chest to Yuntan Mountain for Censor Du's inspection, the other kept as backup.
"Who knows if Censor Du will agree this time," Shen Yuan sighed, leaving matters to fate.
Fortunately, the official relented. The Shen steward transported the precious plant overnight under strict agreement for its immediate return after the banquet. Not trusting the arrangement, Censor Du personally escorted his prized chrysanthemums down the mountain.
When Shen Yuan and the others finally saw the Five Dragon Chrysanthemums on the morning of April 24th, collective tension dissolved into relieved smiles. Without words, Shen Yuan squeezed Jicheng's hand—a silent testament to their shared triumph.
Even the most discerning guests gasped upon seeing the floral marvel. Censor Du's expertise shone through five distinct blooms per stem—dark emerald, jade green, grassy verdance, tender green, and pale gold. Their dragon-claw petals seemed to writhe like celestial serpents amidst mist. These specimens could dominate any autumn chrysanthemum competition, let alone a spring gathering.
The Hundred Flowers Banquet attracted every invited noble daughter, including the fashionably late Wang sisters.
Wang Siniang had clearly dressed to dominate. Her pale yellow underrobe peeked beneath a water-green gauze skirt embroidered with swirling lotus and swastika patterns, cinched by a dark green floral silk sash. The pièce de résistance—an imperial-grade gold filigree crown—transformed her into a walking sunset, drawing envious glances from all present.
Shen Xun flushed upon seeing the Wang sisters. She'd assumed her third sister's quarrel with them would prevent their attendance. When the group approached, Wang Siniang seized Shen Xun's hands with performative warmth. "Why so distant, dear sister?"
"I..." Shen Xun faltered.
"Don't fret. Did you think me petty enough to miss your special day?" Wang Siniang patted her hand, pointedly ignoring Shen Yuan and Shen Cui nearby.
Wang Yuening emerged like shadow to light. "I nearly refused to come after you skipped our peony banquet! But Fourth Sister insisted you were unwell." She paused dramatically. "Of course, true friends would never abandon us without cause."
The sisters' coordinated act flushed Shen Xun's cheeks crimson. "I know Fourth Sister cares for me," she mumbled.
As the Wangs monopolized Shen Xun, Shen Yuan and Shen Cui turned to greet other guests. Wang Yuening glared daggers at their retreating backs while Wang Siniang maintained a porcelain smile, though her eyes turned flinty. She'd extended an olive branch; its rejection demanded future recompense.
Such were the incomprehensible feuds of young nobility—petty slights blossoming into generational grudges.
Unlike Shen Yuan, Su Yun approached the Wangs with calculated grace. "Fourth Sister's gown dazzles! That Jiangnan weaving technique—isn't this from the imperial tributary batch?"
"Sharp as ever." Wang Yuening preened. "Consort Shu received only three bolts. Naturally, our Fourth Sister claimed the best."
Wang Siniang's gaze sharpened on Su Yun's hairpin. "This ruby butterfly piece intrigues me. Palace craftsmanship, yet... unfashionably antiquated. Pity modern artisans lack such skill."
Su Yun touched the heirloom self-consciously. "The late Empress Dowager gifted this to my family."
"No wonder!" Wang Yuening blurted. "The palace abandoned such styles ages ago."
Su Yun's ears burned scarlet. Though the Su family maintained appearances, their dwindling prestige forced her to wear outdated treasures.
Wang Siniang shot her sister a silencing glare. "Relics from Her Late Majesty transcend trends. Only established houses possess such heritage."
Su Yun adjusted a nonexistent stray hair, silently acknowledging Wang Siniang's political finesse.
Wang Yuening backtracked hastily. "Forgive my thoughtlessness, Sister! I meant no offense." Her careless tone betrayed newfound condescension.
The hairpin incident revealed everything—desperate showmanship masking decayed foundations. While Wang Siniang recognized this, she saw opportunity in exploiting cracks.
"Your complexion improves," she told Su Yun. "We missed you at the peony banquet."
The unspoken question hung heavy—who orchestrated the absences?
Su Yun demurred. "I've recovered, thanks to Fourth Sister's concern." Her loyalties remained with the Shen household.
Wang Siniang's smile chilled. Following Su Yun's gaze to Shen Yuan, she sighed theatrically. "Yuan Sister seems cross with me. Whatever have I done?"
Silence thickened until Shen Xun interjected: "She's just embarrassed about the Jicheng matter. You know how she dotes on her favorites."
Wang Siniang had long anticipated the matter would concern Ji Cheng, but she hadn't expected her to be so adept at winning Shen Yuan's favor. From a distance, she observed Ji Cheng smiling and chatting with several young ladies. Wang Siniang curled her lips in disdain: "Your Cousin Cheng certainly knows how to work a crowd. Merchant daughters always treat everything like business—used to bowing and scraping to please others. They'll never stand tall in this world."
Wang Yuemiang emitted two mocking chuckles.
Shen Xun frowned slightly at these words. She disliked Wang Siniang's tone about Ji Cheng. They were all cousins who'd studied together for months. Though Shen Xun shared the common disdain for Ji Cheng's merchant background, she held no personal grudge. Moreover, this year's Hundred Flowers Banquet had succeeded largely through Ji Cheng's efforts.
Su Yun quickly interjected: "Cheng-mei isn't like that at all! Her manners and character are impeccable."
Wang Yuemiang snorted. "Has Sister Yun fallen so low as to befriend a tradesman's daughter?"
Su Yun's face flushed crimson, her fingertips trembling with anger.
Wang Siniang shot her cousin a warning glance. "Yuemiang, even the Emperor has poor relations. Besides, Miss Cheng's family isn't poor—the Ji merchants are famously wealthy. Don't you know Shen Xun's third aunt leads Baoguo Temple's annual donations?"
"True enough," Wang Yuemiang smirked. "But no amount of silver makes their sort worth knowing. Associate too long with such people, and you'll reek of copper yourself."
"If you hate copper's scent, others might find it sweet." Wang Siniang's gaze slid to Su Yun. She'd thought the girl clever, but defending Ji Cheng over this? How tasteless.
Su Yun recognized the veiled insults. Their "submit or perish" arrogance shocked her. Abandoning decorum, she turned to Shen Xun: "Xun-mei, I'll see if Yuan-jie needs help."
When Su Yun left, Wang Siniang grasped Shen Xun's hand. "Do you think me cruel?"
Shen Xun's silence answered plainly.
Wang Siniang sighed. "Resent me if you must, but time reveals true nature. Miss Cheng knows her birth is low—of course she flatters you all. One day's pretense is easy, but a lifetime? Mark my words—her true colors will show. Keep your distance now to spare future heartache."
Though silent, Shen Xun's eased expression showed she'd been swayed. She accompanied the Wang sisters to view chrysanthemum arrangements called Five Dragon Clusters.
Had Ji Cheng heard this exchange, she might have applauded—maintaining this charade for even one day strained her limits.
Twenty-odd noble daughters attended today. Shen Yuan had painstakingly introduced each to Ji Cheng, requiring her to instantly match names with faces while memorizing intricate lineages.
In this world, hierarchy dictated everything. A single misstep—calling a viscount's daughter before a count's—could breed lasting enmity. Ji Cheng needed to know each girl's paternal rank and title, maternal lineage, even grandparents' connections. Were they cousins through blood, marriage, or political alliance? Even ancient strategists like Yan Ying or Zhuge Liang would struggle with such complex recall.
Ji Cheng spoke sparingly, listening intently. She interjected only with perfectly timed remarks—neither sycophantic nor confrontational. For Shen Yuan, raised in these circles, such navigation came naturally. But Ji Cheng, new to the capital, felt mentally drained despite avoiding major blunders.
These women might become future in-laws. Offending none while subtly flattering all proved exhausting—exactly as Wang Siniang predicted.
Noting Ji Cheng's competent interactions, Shen Yuan stopped guiding her. Some girls only tolerated the merchant's daughter for Shen Yuan's sake.
Ji Cheng didn't press—desperation bred contempt. Most treated her kindly regardless, a few with marked enthusiasm.
Miss Qi Hua now admired her openly: "Is that snow mist gauze?"
The legendary fabric, finer than spider silk, required a year's flawless weaving. Layered like morning mist on peaks, it made wearers resemble cloud-borne goddesses. Though excluded from imperial tribute lists (weavers bribed officials to avoid impossible quotas), its price surpassed gold by the inch.
Ji Cheng nodded. She'd chosen this ice-blue gown deliberately—pale as glacial shadows under noon sun. Marriage meant mutual benefit. She'd displayed her family's wealth; now potential suitors must prove their worth.
This Qi Hua belonged to Yunyang Count's household—a fifth-generation title facing demotion upon the current count's death. The estate's gilded decay showed in Ji family pawnshops full of their unredeemed heirlooms.
At twenty, Qi Hua remained unwed—pleasant-faced but dowry-poor, her family's fading prestige deterring matches.
(End of Chapter)
