Chapter 25: Mockery

The Chrysanthemum Banquet was held at Yanbei Hall, not far from Prince Gong's manor—the hall the founding emperor and empress had set up themselves. The ground had been a former dynasty's pleasure garden: thousands of acres, buildings grand and fine. Had it not lain so far from the city, the throne might have folded it into the palace walls.
Distance could not kill the view. Hills and water; every tenth month chrysanthemums of rare seed opened together until the air felt like another world. Holding the review here was poetry with politics tucked inside.
From the Shen manor the drive took about an hour. Carriages carried snacks against hunger on the road.
Guyu opened Nanny Gui's basket. "Miss, eat something. You'll need strength."
Shen Miao looked inside.
Chilled sheep cheese, scallion rolls, chili-oil legs—bright, fragrant, tempting at first glance.
Also perfect for smearing lip paint and staining silk. Gui had been *thoughtful*.
Inner-yard fights were pinches in the dark. The Ming Qi harem had played for the emperor's bed—higher stakes, sharper knives. Shen Miao shook her head. "Close it. Jingzhe has ours."
Jingzhe produced a small cloth bundle—petal-sized cakes in flower shapes. Shen Miao did not trust the Shen kitchens. She had Jingzhe bribe the purchasing steward for outside goods. The man thought a maid was greedy. He did not know she paid Guangfu Bakery prices.
Guangfu ranked among the capital's best; palace consorts sent for their boxes. Shen Miao had never cared. Wanyu had adored them—one day without and the princess sulked.
She broke pieces for Guyu and Jingzhe. They hesitated, then tasted and gasped. "Miss—this is wonderful."
She smiled faintly. Pastry is pastry. Girls love what looks pretty. When Wanyu left for the marriage road, Shen Miao had even bought a Guangfu master so the child might eat familiar sweets in the northern cold.
Wanyu died on the way. Shen Miao never saw the body.
She shut her eyes.
Lady Mei had pushed the marriage. Chen Ruoqiu's house had helped steer it. The decree bore Fu Xiuyi's name. This life none of them would walk away. She would return what they took a thousandfold.
Guyu chewed happily, looked up—and choked on the sight of her mistress.
Cold eyes. High-seat woman who killed with a glance. For a heartbeat Guyu saw Shen Xin—border general, blood on his hands, fury in the bone. Shen Miao wore the same look now.
"Miss—are you ill?"
"No." She lowered her lashes. "Remembering."
Fu Xiuyi would be at today's feast and review. His brothers too. Nine princes, nine camps. He played the harmless one, arm in arm with the crown prince's faction.
Who guessed the crown prince would fall and the ninth would rise? She would not save the heir. The imperial clan was heartless. They looked at the great houses that won the realm for their grandfather and saw old hounds. The hounds caught the rabbit; the rabbit was in the bag; now they feared the teeth and drained the last blood and boiled the meat.
Heaven without mercy, heirs without honor—why should anyone stay loyal?
Let the dogs fight first. Shen Miao's mouth curved, thin.
…
Yanbei Hall already swarmed with noble carriages.
Though the review mixed boys and girls, the feast still split men's seats and women's. Young masters circled with fathers, trading names and favors—the day they inherited, those threads would matter.
Women moved slower. Wives had their circles; daughters had theirs. Clusters of friends whispered, nervous and eager for the contest, stealing glances at boys across the floor.
Yi Peilan toyed with flowers on the low table. "Today's review—are you ready?"
"Not I." The girl beside her laughed. "So many talents. I only pray they don't draw my name or call me up. No glory—just no shame."
Yi Peilan sniffed. "At least try. Prince Ding is here. Isn't young Master Li of the Li house here too? His verse tops the school. He'll step up. Won't you show yourself?"
The girl shoved her, blushing. "Stop talking nonsense."
Jiang Xiaoxuan chimed in, "Bai Wei, don't fear. If someone must bottom out, there's always Shen Fifth. You're better than her, surely."
"True." Yi Peilan shook with laughter. "Every year Shen Five is the clown. How does she still show her face? I can't wait—what will she wear? Last year's horror—scarlet with purple-gold pins?"
The girls giggled.
"Enough." Feng Anning's voice cut across them. "Is it that funny?"
Yi Peilan blinked. "Feng Anning, you've been odd lately. Making friends with the idiot now?"
Feng Anning flushed, opening her mouth—
"Look—the Shen ladies are here."