FBC – Chapter 239 Coming to Prominence

The most attention-grabbing event of the day was undoubtedly the poetry gathering.

In recent years, as wars gradually subsided, Daliang had begun to favor the civil over the martial.

Each time the imperial examinations approached in spring or autumn, the capital, Bianjing, would be bustling with life. Countless scholars flocked to the city to sit for the exams.

And right now, it was the season for the spring examinations. Examinees from all corners of the empire had gathered in Bianjing. Scholars and poets alike came to join the poetry gathering, each hoping to seize the opportunity to shine.

Scholars and lesser-known poets were arranged in subvenues, where they had to compete through several rounds before being qualified to enter the main hall.

If one could display exceptional talent here, not only might they have the chance to meet the Emperor himself, but they could also attract the attention of high-ranking officials or even be accepted as a disciple by a famed scholar—greatly increasing their odds of success in the examinations.

At the moment, the subvenue of the poetry gathering was surrounded three layers deep by eager participants and spectators, all racking their brains for poetic inspiration.

Officials in charge of the preliminary judging would send the most outstanding works to the main venue, set in the central hall of the Five Palaces, where nobles and members of the imperial family would choose the best among them. Only then could the poet gain entry to the main hall.

A long screen divided the male and female guests in the main hall. In truth, such a partition was more suggestive than discreet.

The thin veil of silk lent a hazy, poetic beauty to the scene.

Guests could easily walk around the screen to mingle, and the handsome men and graceful women all adopted elegant airs to attract each other’s notice.

Gu Hua followed the Empress into the hall. A large group of officials’ wives and noble ladies had already taken their seats, nibbling pastries, sipping tea, and chatting idly—though their eyes frequently darted toward the young noblemen, hoping to find suitable husbands for their daughters.

When everyone saw the Empress’s entourage arriving, they hurriedly stood to pay their respects.

A few noblewomen whispered among themselves:

“Who’s that woman beside Her Majesty? So beautiful, yet dressed so plainly.”

“You don’t know her? She’s Duke Yong’s favored concubine—now promoted to official wife. I heard she even bore him a posthumous heir and was granted a third-rank noble title.”

“Oh, she’s quite the schemer. They say she chased her husband a thousand miles just to conceive a child. And now she’s currying favor with the Empress, attending events while still in mourning.”

“Can’t stand being lonely, perhaps?”

“Tsk, I’d never be so shameless.”

A single cold glance from the Empress silenced them all.

Gu Hua couldn’t be bothered with such gossiping women.

What did quick tongues gain them—an extra two catties of fat?

Today, she had more important matters to attend to.

As soon as the Empress led Gu Hua to sit, a group of noble ladies approached, laughing and chatting brightly.

At their head was a woman in a crimson gown of fine silk embroidered with golden peonies. Her figure was slender, her bearing refined, her posture straight as a bamboo stalk—graceful and poised.

The Empress whispered, “Do you not recognize her? That is Zhao Chufei, the First Prince Consort’s younger sister—a famed talent in Bianjing. She was last year’s Poetry Gathering champion.”

Gu Hua smiled faintly. “Ah, the legitimate second daughter of Marquis Jingwen. I’ve heard of her reputation.”

Years ago, during one of the Empress’s flower banquets, Gu Wanru had used one of Gu Hua’s poems to win the Empress’s praise, but the title of champion still went to Zhao Chufei.

When Gu Wanru returned home, she had vented her anger on Gu Hua, blaming her for writing an “unimpressive” poem and embarrassing her. Concubine Pei had even beaten her for it.

Recalling those miserable days now, Gu Hua felt nothing.

Perhaps because Mu Junyan and the old matriarch had filled her life with warmth and affection, those painful memories had lost their weight.

Mr. Min had once analyzed the major family powers for her, emphasizing Marquis Jingwen’s influence.

He was true imperial kin—his mother had been the late emperor’s empress’s own daughter, the Grand Princess.

Although the current emperor was his cousin, Marquis Jingwen had risen by his own merit to the position of Grand Councillor, second only in power to Prince Ping’an. With the Grand Princess’s backing, he wielded enormous influence—enough to rival even the prince himself.

His legitimate eldest daughter, Zhao Chuyu, had married the First Prince three years ago.

Zhao Chufei, his legitimate second daughter, was born of his second wife.

Both the Empress Dowager and the Empress sought to win Marquis Jingwen’s support, but he remained neutral, never choosing sides. Thus, the Empress hoped to use marriage to draw closer to his faction.

Gu Hua wasn’t yet familiar with the Empress’s temperament, so she probed softly, “I heard Your Majesty is planning to select a bride for the Second Prince. Are you perhaps observing the young ladies’ performances today?”

The Empress smiled. “You are indeed clever. I’d like you to help me watch as well.”

Gu Hua lowered her eyes with a modest smile. “This humble woman doesn’t know much.”

The Empress laughed. “You’re too modest. In my eyes, there isn’t a single woman in all of Daliang who can compare to you.”

Gu Hua feigned shyness, her cheeks faintly pink. “Your Majesty flatters me.”

Life was but a play, she thought—each of them taking turns on the stage.

Everyone here was an actor.

The Empress, of course, understood the stakes. Today was a decisive moment for determining the heir apparent.

All the officials knew that the command token for the Mu Family Army had been handed over to the Emperor by Gu Hua, yet His Majesty had yet to make his stance clear.

A month ago, he had announced that the princes would be evaluated in all aspects. Every faction was restless, waiting for this very day.

By showing favor to Gu Hua, the Empress was making it clear to all that the Mu family stood with her side—prompting the courtiers to reconsider where their loyalties lay.

Gu Hua, meanwhile, sat serenely, watching the grand performance of courtly politics unfold.

The ceremonial officer stepped forward to ask the Empress for instruction.

The Empress smiled kindly. “Go ahead and begin. Do not mind me—I’m here only for the entertainment.”

The contest began. On both sides, men and women readied their brushes, full of spirit.

Before long, bursts of applause and cheers filled the hall.

Then, two noble ladies came forward and bowed to the Empress. “Your Majesty, Lady Jiang and I would like to invite Madam Mu to compose a poem.”

The Empress turned to Gu Hua. “Would you like to join them for some fun?”

One of the noble ladies tittered. “Madam Mu’s elder sister, Gu Wanru, was praised by Your Majesty herself as a talented poetess. Surely Madam Mu’s poetry and calligraphy must be equally fine.”

The other added quickly, “It’s only for amusement. It’s all right if one isn’t very skilled.”

Gu Hua recognized them—they had just been standing with Jiang Ruoxi.

She rose and smiled politely. “You two young ladies are mistaken. I have no elder sister.”

Their expressions froze.

One couldn’t help but sneer, “Ah, our mistake. Madam Mu was switched at birth and raised as a concubine’s daughter. Fortunately, her identity has been restored.”

The other chimed in, “That’s right. Birth doesn’t matter—many of us are born of concubines. Even so, some are quite talented.”

Gu Hua said calmly, “Then allow me to make a fool of myself.”

The Empress quickly instructed a lady-in-waiting, “Go with Hua’er and take care of her.”

The maid nodded and followed Gu Hua closely.

Zhao Chufei had just finished writing a poem. A eunuch hung it up in the public area for everyone to read.

“Wow! Sister Zhao’s poem is a perfect quatrain—surely the best of the gathering!”

The young ladies chirped excitedly.

Several noblemen gathered around, exclaiming, “Miss Zhao truly deserves her title as the foremost talented lady of Bianjing!”

“Madam Mu is here! Make way, everyone—let her show her talent!”

The ladies who had invited Gu Hua waved their hands for space, and a murmur rippled through the crowd.

Jiang Ruoxi curled her lips in disdain, whispering to Qian Peiqin and the other noble girls, “Just wait for the show.”

Zhao Chufei studied Gu Hua carefully. It was her first time seeing the woman rumored to have crossed a thousand miles to deliver grain and rescue the Duke Yong.

She was the first woman in Daliang whom the Emperor had personally promoted from concubine to official wife, and only the second—after Old Madam Mu—to be granted a noble title for military merit.

Though her origins and the way she rose in status were subjects of scorn among the upper class, no one could deny that she now stood at the pinnacle of noblewomen.

Zhao Chufei had always prided herself on purity and principle, like her father—unable to tolerate the smallest speck of dust in her eye.

She felt little admiration for a woman who had climbed her way up from disgrace.

Now, seeing her in person—

She truly was breathtaking.

That kind of beauty—soft and gentle on the surface, yet innately alluring—was dangerous.

Zhao Chufei’s smile gradually faded. She sat back down, sipping her tea in silence.

Unbothered by the stares around her, Gu Hua walked straight to the table covered with fine paper. She lifted the brush, paused for a moment in thought, then began to write with calm confidence.

Her strokes flowed smoothly—steady and elegant.

A seven-character regulated verse took shape in one go.

When she put down the brush, the attendant hung her poem beside Zhao Chufei’s.

The crowd surged forward to read—and suddenly fell silent.