Chapter 121: Forced to Compete

The tribute feast ran hot with wine; cups crossed; for a moment it truly looked like peace and prosperity. Yet on the honored seats, Wenhui's talk with Qin crown prince Huangfu Hao carried clear caution—anyone with sense heard it plain.
Among Qin, Great Liang, and Ming Qi, Ming Qi was weakest; Qin next; Liang strongest. Yongle Emperor's fierce style made both Qin and Ming Qi wary—so they treated Prince Rui with extra respect. Huangfu Hao's words to the prince held much probing.
Most ladies' eyes stuck to Prince Rui—every move pleasing to watch. Ming Qi had handsome men too—Fu Xiuyi among them—but beside the prince they looked forced, lacking natural noble grace.
Luo Tan loved beauty but was wind-quick in temper; soon the fine food drew her—tasting this and that, delighted.
At the tribute feast men and women sat together; whole families at one table. Luo Ling sat near Shen Miao. Seeing she ate nothing, he offered his snowflake pastry. "Cousin—eat something, or you'll have no strength going home."
Shen Qiu meant to serve her too—but Luo Ling was first. The pastry on his chopsticks had nowhere to go; his own bowl was full. A grown man eating snowflake cake—after thought, he set it before Feng Anning nearest Shen Miao.
Feng Anning took it, surprised, thanked him, did not eat—stared at the pastry.
Then Huangfu Hao spoke suddenly: "This prince hears Great General Shen returned to the capital lately. I've long heard his name—may we have the honor to meet him today?"
The lively feast went quiet at once.
Qin crown prince wants to see Shen Xin? What does that mean?
Shen Xin and the crown prince had no tie—yet now one was the general just recalled by Wenhui, the other Qin's heir—both sensitive. All eyes turned to the emperor's face.
Wenhui's smile did not change, as if this were a trifle. He looked at Shen Xin. "Minister Shen."
Shen Xin stood and bowed to Huangfu Hao. "Your humble servant greets Your Highness."
Huangfu Hao smiled. "I've long heard General Shen is matchless in battle—even scattered frontier troops he can form into new arrays. When the Shen army returned, the people cheered in the streets. Alas—" he sighed—"if Great Qin had such a talent, a century of peace would be assured."
Wenhui's pupils contracted almost unseen. Ministers' faces changed; their looks at Shen Xin grew complex.
Praising Shen for forming arrays from scattered men sounded like praise of talent—yet hinted at danger. A tree above the forest must be broken—that is ancient law. Popular cheers for a general the emperor had exiled meant the people stood with Shen, not the throne. No royal house tolerates a servant louder than itself.
The last line truly pushed Shen to the storm's eye. Huangfu Hao was digging before Wenhui's face. Even scheming Ming Qi ministers, before foreign foes, stood outwardly united—stared at Shen Xin as at a traitor.
Shen Miao's gaze chilled; she stared at Huangfu Hao coldly.
Huangfu Hao loved to watch others cornered—as if malice ran in Qin royal blood. Shen Xin had no quarrel with Qin now—yet Huangfu Hao would not spare them. Perhaps enmity was fated.
Before Wenhui spoke, a light laugh. All looked—the guest-seat prince set down his cup and turned to Huangfu Hao.
His voice was low and beautiful, lazy with wine, almost seductive—yet the words were not polite.
"If Brother Huangfu favors General Shen so, ask His Majesty for him. His Majesty is generous—he will not refuse."
A push downstream—yet in every ear the taste differed.
Huangfu Hao did not truly want Shen Xin—only to set him on the blade's edge and watch him stumble. If Wenhui really gave Shen away, Qin must house him well for face. Who knew if Shen were Wenhui's spy? Qin and Ming Qi still probed each other—who would keep an untrusted man under their eyes daily?
Wenhui thought the same; his odd look faded; he smiled again. "Talent is prized under heaven. If Your Highness insists on General Shen, I can only comply with respect."
Now Huangfu Hao sat awkwardly. The harder he had pressed, the worse his trap. He could not take the man—yet yielding looked like loss of face. All because of one line from the masked prince beside him. Huangfu Hao glared at the silver mask as if to carve it into memory.
Princess Ming'an stood with her brother. Seeing his plight, she wished to help—but she would not cross Prince Rui's splendor, nor offend Great Liang. All her fire fell on the Shen house. She looked at Shen Xin and laughed sweetly.
Her voice was fine—sweet at ordinary times—now sharp with attitude. "How dare we take such a great general? So brave—my brother and I would have headaches. Better ask for General Shen's daughter. They say she is his pearl, a beauty—does Great Qin have such fortune?"
Luo Tan and Feng Anning seized Shen Miao's hands, alert. Luo Ling and Shen Qiu paled; Luo Xueyan and Shen Xin's faces darkened; Shen Xin jerked toward the princess.
Shen Miao, head bowed on her teacup, seemed not to hear. Only the leaves spinning, spinning, sinking to the bottom.
A nation's general is not given lightly—but a minister's daughter is easy coin. For friendship with Qin, marrying a princess or a subject's daughter abroad was common. None wished a foreign land; without father and brothers, wrongs must be swallowed alone.
Shen Xin laughed. "My daughter is willful—not worthy of Your Highness's favor." Refusal without courtesy.
Wenhui's gaze was deep; he did not intervene. Shen Xin was always blunt—about Shen Miao, harder still.
Shen Yue's eyes flashed spite. She wished Shen Miao married to Qin—old man as concubine, tortured to death abroad.
Ming'an had not expected such refusal. Displeasure rose. She had changed the subject from Shen Xin; Huangfu Hao would not speak again—drank at ease, coldly watching her trouble the Shen family.
Ming'an said: "Words cannot be so. All know Miss Shen of the Shen army is talented and virtuous. Does Miss Shen look down on me—unwilling even to greet me?"
With that cap of rudeness, Shen Miao could not hide. She stood and bowed the princess. "Your servant greets Your Highness."
She rose—and every eye in the hall found her.
Two years change much—including the "rough block" carved deep in memory, faded by distance. The girl standing now was another person from memory. Pale violet dress made her skin jade-clear. Two years in Xiaochun's sand had not roughened her—only raised noble air. Delicate painted brows pleased the heart; each gesture held quiet authority—soft and hard strangely fused—stately composure of her own.
Even the empress beside the throne seemed less naturally regal.
Ming'an frowned. She had not expected such looks, such bearing. She knew the rough-block name—had meant only to shame the Shen house. Now the stone struck her own foot.
Yet Ming'an had pride's capital. She lifted her brows and looked Shen Miao up and down like goods on a shelf. "Miss Shen is flower-pretty—a striking beauty. No wonder General Shen hides his pearl. Which house will be blessed to marry such looks?"
The words overstepped. Shen Xin's tiger eyes bulged. He must respect her rank—yet could not bear his daughter discussed so in public. He meant to speak—Ming'an shifted again: "Miss Shen must excel in arts too?"
The hall's faces turned vivid. Yi Peilan and her friends barely hid laughter.
What talent did Shen Miao have? All knew. Two years in Xiaochun—frontier, mostly martial folk—surely rougher still.
Shen Miao lowered her eyes. "Your servant is shallow in learning—Your Highness overpraises."
"Why modest, Miss Shen." Ming'an smiled innocently. "In Qin I heard that years ago at Ming Qi's examination, Miss Shen competed in mounted archery and took first rank. My heart stirred then. Seeing you today, I remember that old tale."
Shen Miao was silent. Luo Xueyan and Shen Qiu were anxious—only the blind could miss Ming'an's deliberate provocation.
All remembered the chrysanthemum feast and examination—Shen Miao against Cai Lin in mounted archery, three arrows leaving Cai speechless, fleeing in shame. That day Shen Miao unlike her past self had first appeared before the world.
Cai father and son were at the feast. Cai Lin flushed crimson. Two years older, less arrogant than before. Old grudge with Shen Miao had faded with time; his crush on Shen Yue gone—forgive and forget. He had not expected the past dragged up before so many—utterly embarrassed.
Others remembered too. In a corner sat Lin'an Marquis Xie Ding and his sons. The marquis had aged, lost old spirit—even here he sought a quiet corner. The examination memory brought Xie Jingxing's surprise entry, knocking Xie Changwu and Xie Changchao from their horses. Home that day he had raged at Jingxing—yet inwardly proud.
Old sorrow welled; Xie Ding looked defeated. Xie Changwu and Xie Changchao saw it—shadow crossed both eyes.
Ming'an went on: "Today I'm in the mood—to compete with Miss Shen. Mounted archery, how about it? Just a game."
Sudden and strange. Wenhui laughed first. "Miss Shen is a delicate lady—how would she know mounted archery?"
"Your Majesty is mistaken," Ming'an smiled. "Miss Shen's fame reached even Great Qin. Tiger sires no dog—General Shen so brave, his daughter must be extraordinary. And I too am a daughter of the realm. Or does Your Majesty think Great Qin unworthy to stand beside Ming Qi?"
She looked sweet; her words were venom. She had raised the whole state—refuse the match and Ming Qi scorns Qin. Wenhui could not sour relations now. He turned to Shen Miao, seeming mild. "What does Miss Shen think?"
Shen Xin clenched his fist. He wished to refuse outright—but refusal would only give Ming'an a cleaner handle.
Shen Miao glanced at the princess and said low: "Your Highness commands—your servant dare not refuse."
"Dare not refuse"—still showed unwilling heart, as if Ming'an bullied by rank.
Ming'an heard the tone, face darkened, then thought of something and giggled. "I hear at the examination Miss Shen and her rival wagered lives. Today let us wager lives too—yes?"
"No!" Before Shen Miao could finish, Shen Xin refused flat. Cold face, ignoring Wenhui's look, he told the princess word by word: "Your Highness called it a game—then let it remain a game. Why drag in lives? Tribute night is joy—blades ill suit a feast."
Luo Xueyan, hearing Shen Xin, gripped her teacup. They had not known the life-wager with Cai Lin until later—heart still shook. Present, they would never let Shen Miao stake her life. This Qin princess meant harm—how let her risk?
Yet after Shen Xin's words Huangfu Hao spoke—unexpected, smiling: "Even so—treating the game seriously shows Great Qin's respect for Ming Qi. General Shen—only let your daughter play with my sister. Are you afraid? Or is Ming Qi so—unable to bear losing?" Barbed words; he looked at Wenhui. "If Ming Qi fears losing face, let Ming'an spoil the mood today—no matter."
Raised to national face—if Wenhui stayed silent, he shamed Ming Qi before his ministers; how hold majesty after? He did not glance at Shen Xin. To Shen Miao: "Since Princess Ming'an is willing, Shen Miao—play with her once."
Imperial gold words—Shen Xin's protest was void. Shen Qiu's fists clenched; Luo Tan and Feng Anning exchanged uneasy looks.
Shen Miao said softly: "Yes."
She showed no panic—surprising all. Ming'an turned—met Shen Miao's eyes.
Shen Miao's eyes were very clear, child-pure at glance—thoughts should show through. Yet those eyes on Ming'an were calm as a thousand-year pool—no ripple—no readable mood.
Unreadable.
Ming'an grew irritable without cause. She smiled, sent a maid for bow and arrows, and stared at Shen Miao. "In Qin we often play this rule—one holds the bow blindfolded; the other places fruit on the body; hit it and you win." She watched Shen Miao's every flicker. "Miss Shen understands?"
The crowd drew cold breath. Last examination Shen Miao and Cai Lin had grass fruit on their heads—but eyes open. Blind shooting—life in another's hands. Hearing alone was horrifying. Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan were beyond rage.
Shen Miao smiled slightly, seemingly unafraid. "Thank you for explaining, Your Highness."
Her ease held Ming Qi's honor. Most gentlemen looked higher on her. Huangfu Hao stared—strange light in his eyes.
Luo Tan tugged Shen Miao's sleeve. "Little Cousin—let me go. I've trained—a little skill. Worst case I dodge."
Shen Miao shook her head, looked at Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan still blocking. "Don't fear. She speaks so because she won't hit me. If she did, they'd have trouble too. Huangfu Hao and Ming'an are clever—they won't do folly. This is to scare me, make me lose face."
"But Sister," Shen Qiu gripped her shoulders, worried, "you'll be alone and afraid. Whether she hits or not—how leave you alone?"
"I'm not afraid." Shen Miao answered gently. "Besides—if she hurts me, I have one turn yet. I won't let her off cheap." She smiled as she spoke—yet clear cold ran through listeners.
Luo Ling patted her shoulder. "Be careful."
Shen Miao nodded and walked to the hall center.
She and Ming'an went together—comparison cruel. Ming'an was true golden branch, palace-bred, lovely, should be most precious—yet beside Shen Miao, hands folded, spine straight, eyes forward, never glancing side to side, stately and grand, Ming'an looked worthless.
Murmurs rose in the hall.
Huangfu Hao's face worsened.
Frankly Ming'an was not ill-favored—Shen Miao's calm grandeur dimmed all beside her. Yet it was absurd: a minister's daughter outshone a princess raised in palace from birth.
They did not know Shen Miao had been empress years in the inner palace—had driven herself to perfection for Fu Xiuyi; Qin hardship had taught unshakable calm. In her past life, but for Lady Mei and Fu Xiuyi's indulgence, she could have been a true mother of the realm.
That whole dream had been shattered—yet in this life gave her light she could not hide.
Ming'an missed the crowd's looks—only Shen Miao, weighing a black-gleaming long bow—fine wood soaked in special herbs, hard and heavy. She said: "This is my bow. One arrow each in turn—yes? I'll shoot you first, then you draw."
She fixed the order—Ming Qi faces showed anger—clear bullying by rank.
Shen Miao only answered flatly, unmoved.
The more indifferent she seemed, the more blocked Ming'an felt. She glanced at the guest seats—eyes bright, sweet voice: "But competing here—some may think it unfair. Let Great Liang's Prince Rui judge—stand here, inspect bow and arrow, prove no cheating." Finished, she gazed at the prince with tender eyes.
Ming Qi girls cursed inwardly—shameless, using this to approach the prince, drunk on his beauty. Prince Rui was wild—this request absurd—surely he would refuse.
He heard, thought briefly, nodded. "Agreed."
Another surprise—even Wenhui and Huangfu Hao looked again. The prince rose lazily from his seat—long legs; two strides to the hall; stood beside Shen Miao and Ming'an.
Ming'an was overjoyed. She handed him the bow, smiling. "Then please inspect this bow first, Your Highness—any fault?"
Prince Zhou sneered low: "This Qin princess is restless—flirting before everyone." Utter contempt.
"But Miss Shen of the Shen house surprises." Prince Jing watched Shen Miao beside the princess. "Such composure—even if acted, courage enough."
"Speaking of which," Prince Zhou rubbed his chin, looked at silent Fu Xiuyi, "this Shen girl grows more flavor. Old Nine—regret yet?"
Fu Xiuyi said flat: "Fourth Brother jests."
Behind Fu Xiuyi the green-robed man stood still. Pei Lang's gaze crossed the crowd to the purple-clad girl. He looked calm—as at a stranger first met—yet fist in sleeve clenched, trembling faintly.
Two years—the girl more striking, as she had said, "invited" back by the throne. Trouble found her at once. Tree seeks stillness—wind will not cease—she had done nothing; others came.
Pei Lang knew Shen Miao would not land in disgrace. Her heart was harder than any.
The prince returned the bow quickly. Ming'an took it shyly and told Shen Miao: "Stand there—and…" From the maid's tray she took an apple, smiling, handed it to Shen Miao. "Place it on your head."
Shen Qiu's fist clenched in his seat.
"Yes." Shen Miao lowered her eyes, took the apple, walked to the other end.
All watched. Ming'an had black cloth bound over her eyes. The prince walked to Shen Miao's side.
Before every eye he took the apple from her hand. Shen Miao paused. He set the apple lightly on her head.
She looked up at him.
With fruit on her head she must not move much lest it fall—she could only watch him still. He was very tall; though she had grown these two years, she barely reached his chest. She saw gold-embroidered buttons—and his meaningful eyes.
The silver mask showed a beautiful jaw and red lips, corners slightly curved—one imagined the face beneath smiling too. Black eyes like stars, like autumn water—seeming gentle, yet perhaps mocking.
Mocking?
He set the apple firm, curled one finger, ruffled her hair—like stroking a kept pet. Only an instant, then withdrew. Side-on to others, it looked only as if the prince had placed the apple—nothing more.
He turned aside, arms crossed, watching like sport.
Shen Miao's attention returned to Ming'an, drawing the bow slowly.
The bow seemed very heavy. Ming'an strained; the fuller the draw, the heavier hearts in the hall—especially Shen Xin's family, faces like water.
Full draw meant more force—more danger to Shen Miao. Even near-miss might knock her down. This was no game as Ming'an claimed—it was national face. Lose—shame; show fear—shame. Most favored Ming'an; they only hoped Shen Miao would not lose too ugly.
Shen Miao watched the blindfolded princess quietly. Ming'an drew slower and slower—creak of the bowstring scourging every heart.
Shen Miao's vision blurred. Not the feast hall—but foreign Qin. Qin prince, princess, noble daughters circled her laughing. She wore a patched phoenix robe again and again, fruit on her head, eyes pleading at the opponent.
That opponent swaggered in splendor, white cloth over eyes, boasting to the crowd: "Look! Today Ming Qi's empress holds my apple. Watch clear—will this general's daughter piss herself in fear? Haha—tell me after!"
She drew—arrow whistled—slightly off—top to bottom—pierced the hair knot, tore open the collar. Shen Miao screamed, wrapped cloth tight—laughter around grew louder.
Such shame—and now it overlapped the present.
Shen Miao slowly curved her lips—sour or hate unclear—clear eyes darkening as mist spread to the bottom, fathomless deep.
Beside her the masked prince curled a finger, paused, quietly released.
She moved her head—almost unseen—a slight tilt.