Chapter 17: The Hundred Flowers Banquet (2)
Nowadays, noble families prioritize interconnectedness. Though most hold no official court positions, they flourish through intricate webs of marital alliances and familial connections. Many send daughters to the imperial palace - relying on court influence rather than bureaucratic power.
Thus, when choosing brides for their heirs, these families seek matches of equal prestige to strengthen alliances. For younger sons, they prioritize brides whose dowries can sustain their lifestyles after household divisions.
Against these criteria, Qi Hua fell short. As a marquis' daughter, she hovered in limbo - too lofty to marry beneath her station yet insufficiently connected for a desirable match. By sixteen, she remained unbetrothed.
"Only your beauty does justice to this snow-mist gauze," Qi Hua praised, envy flickering across her features. "Though for today's banquet, it's perhaps too subdued."
Truthfully, Qi Hua chafed at the irony. This merchant's daughter Ji Cheng wore jewelry and silks with aristocratic grace, making her own noble attire seem common as market-stall rags.
"You honor me too much," Ji Cheng demurred. "Your chrysanthemum-like elegance pairs perfectly with that bee-and-butterfly hairpin." She'd discerned Qi Hua's nature at first glance.
Insecurity made Qi Hua tilt her chin higher while scrutinizing others' finery. Envy warred with pride, transforming admiration into veiled criticism.
Ji Cheng recognized this fragile vanity. Complimenting Qi Hua's sole redeeming accessory proved safest.
Qi Hua brightened. "This is Master Ling of Baiyan Pavilion's work - part of his famed Twelve Blossoms collection."
"No wonder!" Ji Cheng smoothly agreed. "The stamen details and lifelike insects looked too exquisite for ordinary craftsmanship."
Qi Hua now deemed Ji Cheng a kindred spirit. "Your discernment astonishes." The merchant's daughter combined soothing speech, warm manners, and useful Shen family connections - an ideal companion beneath her own station.
As intimacy grew, confidences flowed. Through careful prompting, Ji Cheng learned of Qi Hua's eighteen-year-old brother - an unmarried palace guard who allegedly communicated with powerful eunuchs.
Sometimes grand councilors' words carried less weight than a eunuch's whisper.
Admiring Qi Hua's cunning, Ji Cheng endured enthusiastic brotherly praise after revealing her unmarried status. Though uncertain if Ji Cheng could "reach the carrot," Qi Hua hinted she should start strategizing through future sisterly courtship.
Ji Cheng responded with noncommittal smiles.
Recognizing maidenly reserve, Qi Hua shifted topics: "You've been in the capital a month - have you met your Shen cousins?"
Ji Cheng nodded. She'd met all except third son Shen Zheng, stationed at military camp.
Blushing, Qi Hua whispered: "The Shen heir's wife died years ago. Why no remarriage news?"
Ji Cheng masked surprise at her audacity. Knowing Lady Huang's standards, Qi Hua stood no chance. "He'll surely remarry. A household needs management, and young Hong'er needs mothering."
While Qi Hua dangled her brother, Ji Cheng counterbalanced with Shen Yu mentions.
Unexpectedly, Qi Hua continued: "True. His delay stalls younger brothers' marriages. At Peony Banquet, they said Princess Anhe frets over this."
Ji Cheng recalled no such anxiety. Bound by royal protocols, the princess rarely left Qingyuan except for court or temples. With Jiangnan performers singing daily in her gardens, she epitomized leisure.
"What bride could match Second Young Master Shen?" Qi Hua sighed.
Ji Cheng struggled to respond. Becoming Shen Yu's secondary wife seemed improbable - let alone primary consort to Princess Anhe's sole heir. Yet seeing Qi Hua's starry-eyed mention of Shen Che, she understood. His jade-like beauty inevitably haunted maidens' dreams.
"Who could capture such a man's heart?" Qi Hua sighed again.
Ji Cheng spared no thought for this, eager to end the conversation. Her gaze shifted to Shen Yuan among distant flower beds - just as Shen Yuan and her companions turned to observe them.
“Sigh, it’s truly enviable. It seems all the grace and charm in the world have gathered in your Shen family. Not just you sisters, but even your relatives are all so radiantly beautiful—it’s impossible not to be impressed,” Li Hui sighed with a smile. “If that one were to stand by the water, wouldn’t she be the very image of the Goddess of the Luo River? When I read Cao Zhi’s ‘Ode to the Goddess of the Luo River,’ I always thought he described her as too ethereally beautiful. Only today have I realized how shallow my understanding was.”
“That’s my third aunt’s niece, A’Cheng,” Shen Yan replied with a smile upon hearing Li Hui praise Ji Cheng.
Li Hui naturally knew of the Shen family’s third madam and responded, “Oh, I see.”
Shen Yan smiled faintly, immediately understanding the implication in Li Hui’s words. Her third aunt did have some shortcomings, but it wasn’t entirely her fault—her background limited her. Many noblewomen in the capital had their criticisms of Ji Lan.
Meanwhile, Ji Cheng, catching Shen Yan’s glance, apologized to Qi Hua and walked over to Shen Yan.
Shen Yan first introduced Ji Cheng to Li Hui. Only then did Ji Cheng learn that this dignified and elegant young lady, who seemed like a noble from the palace, was actually from the Marquis Zhongwu’s family. Her grandmother was Princess Zhenping, the elder sister of the late emperor and one of the longest-living members of the royal family.
After their meeting, Shen Yan half-covered her face with a round fan and complained to Ji Cheng, “How do you have so much to talk about with Qi Hua?”
Shen Yan’s implication was clear—she also looked down on Qi Hua. However, her disapproval was expressed far more subtly than Wang Siniang’s. Invitations were still sent to Qi Hua out of courtesy due to their distant familial ties, but that was as far as it went.
Ji Cheng could also see that the girls who had arrived each had their own close circles—some in groups of three or four, others in clusters of five or six. While not strictly divided, it was clear that like-minded individuals naturally gravitated toward one another.
Li Hui, standing nearby, advised, “You’re new to the capital and might not know this yet, but it’s best to avoid associating too much with those from down-and-out families. Otherwise, people might think you’re one of them.” Out of respect for Shen Yan, Li Hui offered this guidance to Ji Cheng.
“Thank you for your advice, Sister Hui,” Ji Cheng replied graciously, though her heart grew heavier. The rigid social hierarchy among the capital’s noble families was daunting.
In truth, this hadn’t been the case decades ago; otherwise, Ji Cheng’s aunt would never have married into the Duke of Qi’s household.
Nowadays, after years of peace and prosperity, life had become increasingly refined and luxurious. Power and wealth had grown more concentrated, and the bureaucratic aristocracy had become increasingly decadent. It seemed as though they needed to assert their superiority at every turn to distinguish themselves from others. Thus, every aspect of life demanded strict adherence to hierarchy and order. Their social circles had also become more exclusive—as if failing to do so would diminish their status.
Yet Ji Cheng understood all too well that even if she didn’t associate with Qi Hua, others wouldn’t regard her any more highly. In fact, she wasn’t even on par with Qi Hua herself. The only reason she could converse with Li Hui now was entirely due to Shen Yan’s influence.
By now, most of the guests had arrived. Shen Yan and Shen Qin began organizing the girls for an outing to Willow Leaf Pavilion by East Lake.
An elegant gathering naturally required an air of refinement—whether through poetry recitals or calligraphy demonstrations—something worth praising one another over so as not to waste such a splendid occasion amidst blooming flowers.
The sun was already high in the sky when they arrived at Willow Leaf Pavilion, surrounded by lush greenery where willows swayed gently under filtered sunlight. The golden hues cast by the rays brought beauty without scorching heat, making the pavilion refreshingly cool. The lakeside-facing windows had been entirely removed, while the other three sides offered picturesque views: to the west stood bamboo groves resembling ink paintings, to the north lay mist-shrouded mountain peaks, and to the south bloomed vibrant flowers. The pavilion itself became a living scroll of ever-shifting scenery—no wonder Shen Yan had chosen this venue.
Ji Cheng had learned much from accompanying Shen Yan these past few days. Organizing such gatherings required immense effort and ingenuity, with meticulous attention to unseen details—any oversight could invite criticism. She observed everything carefully, quietly absorbing the knowledge like an apprentice stealing secrets.
Upon entering, each girl selected a flower from trays held by maidservants—a ritual dubbed the “Flower-Pinning Banquet.” Yet this tradition held deeper meaning: choosing a peony signaled literary pursuits, a jasmine garland denoted musical performance, and a camellia represented landscape painting.
The clues lay in the maids’ attire. The peony-bearing maid wore a plain robe embroidered with poetry, while the jasmine attendant was dressed as a lute-carrying musician. All hints were there for those discerning enough—but a misstep would provide gossip fodder for months, mortifying the offender.
