Chapter 23: Before the Banquet

The sixty-eighth year of Ming Qi brought the Chrysanthemum Banquet at last.
Guangwen Hall had changed too. The review was now open contest—any talent could step up and challenge a classmate, boys and girls on the same floor. Girls might try policy or archery; boys might try zither or verse. Rare, but allowed.
The Shen manor woke in a flurry. In the west wing Shuangjiang set a silver pin and stepped back. "Done, miss."
No one combed better. Shen Yue had tried to claim her; Shuangjiang was Madam Shen's pick for Fifth Girl and refused to go.
"You look wonderful," Bailu said, then hesitated. "Only—the head's a bit bare."
Black hair, heavy and bright, coiled in a neat *falling-cloud* bun—elegant, new. After coming of age Shen Miao had still worn maid-style double loops. The change made her seem taller in the mirror. Round softness thinned into something like grace.
One lonely silver pin. Poor against the house's size.
Guyu's anger showed plain. The whole clan ate Shen Xin's blood gold, yet today their legitimate daughter had nothing fit to wear—and they *had* given her jewelry, vulgar gold, sure laughter if she put it on.
One glance at Guyu and Shen Miao almost laughed. Second and third branch had spent years training her bad taste so they could swear, *She loves flash—it's her nature, not our cruelty.* She wore the bait gladly. The capital decided: main-line daughter, greedy, coarse.
Gold is fine. It is not fine pinned all over your face.
Guyu switched topics fast. "Mistress Li's work is lovely. The dress is beautiful."
Maybe pity moved the cutter. The lotus-blue gown was stitched to perfection—huge crabapple blossoms along the hem, bright against the deep cloth, alive enough to breathe. Shen Miao wore it as if born in it.
Shuangjiang and Bailu traded looks. She could carry heavy color now. When had that happened?
"Let's go." Shen Miao stood. "We shouldn't be late."
In the garden crabapples had bloomed fat and red. She broke a small spray and tucked it into the dark hair—one touch and the whole picture lit.
"Miss is truly beautiful," Guyu breathed.
Nanny Gui came from the side kitchen with a basket of road snacks. She saw Shen Miao and froze.
She had nursed this girl, watched her grow—yet today the child looked like a stranger. Quiet weight, lotus-blue like royalty. Gui nearly dropped the basket.
Bailu teased, "Nanny, what are you staring at?"
Praise had reached Gui's tongue—then she remembered the banquet. If Fifth Girl outshone Yue and Qing… She swallowed the sweet words and put on worry instead.
"Miss, that color is too heavy for your years. It kills your bloom. Go back for the peach jacket Second Aunt sent—magpie on the branch, so young and fresh. And the hairpin—Second Aunt gave you boxes. People will say the general's house is stingy."
Guyu curled her lip. That peach coat plus gold from head to toe was country money pretending to be court. Gui meant her to be laughed off the road.
Shen Miao spoke before Guyu could bite.
"Ming Qi is peaceful. His Majesty preaches thrift. Waste is low craft—plain dress is no shame. Outsiders will call the Shen house honest and upright. That's praise, not blame. And clothes—" a small lift of her mouth—"today the flowers are for looking at. People come to show talent. Cloth has nothing to do with it."
Soft voice, kind face—and no room to argue. Gui's head spun. She was not afraid of anger; she was afraid of sense. The miss hated books, so she had no brain—until now, paragraph on paragraph, and a woman who never studied could not answer.
Bailu laughed, clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes bright with pleasure.
Gui had no comeback. The maids saw it. Every talk since the pond, she lost—gentle tone, blade words.
She pushed the basket at Guyu, face hot. "Snacks for the road. The hall is far—don't let miss hunger." To Shen Miao: "Old servant returns to chores."
"Go."
After Gui left, Guyu and Bailu were almost skipping. The stronger the miss acted, the less the blind servants would bully her.
At the gate two carriages waited. The first was ready to roll. The second stood empty.
Chuntao, Shen Qing's girl, waited by the lead horses.