Chapter 15: Conquering the Literary Sage
Beneath the blazing midday sun, within the grand arena, Chu Xiuying stood with arms crossed, her sharp gaze fixed upon Qi Dongyang. She glanced at the assembled crowd and let out a soft, mocking laugh.
"So then... who shall represent the Kingdom of Qi in this contest of intellect?"
Her voice, laced with unwavering confidence, carried clearly across the courtyard.
Qi Dongyang stood serenely, his gaze steady as he faced the princess of Chu. His reply came, calm yet resolute:
"It shall be I."
A burst of derisive laughter swept through the gathered officials, especially from the faction loyal to the Second Prince, Qi Feizhen, who stood near the imperial throne, his face twisted with disdain.
"Impossible!" Qi Feizhen sneered.
"You are but a wayward prince, unlearned and frivolous. Do you truly believe you can contest against the Grand Tutor of Chu? Must you drag the honor of Qi into even deeper humiliation?"
Murmurs of agreement rose among the officials; many nodded in assent, their gazes filled with scorn as they looked upon Qi Dongyang.
Seated upon the dragon throne, the Emperor's brow furrowed slightly, though he spoke no word. Beside him, Empress Ling Zhangli sat composed, her countenance icy, yet the look she cast upon Qi Dongyang had subtly changed — a flicker of something unreadable within her eyes.
No one could discern her thoughts.
However, one man was less inclined to mask his intentions: Minister Liu Shang. Stepping forward, he clasped his hands and bowed, his voice lending weight to the Second Prince's protest.
"Your Majesty, I beseech you to reconsider. Should the Ninth Prince take part, defeat would be inevitable. We must select someone more fitting to safeguard the dignity of our realm."
The Emperor's gaze swept over the court before he spoke, his voice cold and detached:
"Then who among you shall take his place?"
The entire arena fell into uneasy silence. Not a soul dared to answer.
Qi Feizhen frowned deeply. He would never willingly allow Qi to forfeit its lands if there were a better alternative. Yet, at that moment, Minister Liu Shang leaned close and whispered:
"Your Highness, letting Qi Dongyang compete may yet work to our advantage. If he loses, the blame will rest solely on his shoulders. His failure will cost us the five cities, but you shall remain blameless. Yet if we oppose him and send our own champion, any loss will fall squarely upon us."
Qi Feizhen froze momentarily before a slow, calculating smile crept across his face. At last, he nodded and proclaimed loudly:
"If Qi Dongyang believes himself capable, who am I to obstruct him?"
Minister Liu Shang smiled thinly and bowed.
"Then let it be so. Let the Kingdom of Qi honor its agreement."
The Emperor's inscrutable gaze lingered upon his ninth son, who stood motionless at the center of the arena. At length, he gave a faint nod.
"Very well. The representative for the Kingdom of Qi shall be Qi Dongyang."
Sweeping his gaze across the assembly of officials and guards, Qi Dongyang then spoke with composed clarity:
"I find that a martial arena is ill-suited for a contest of intellect. Such a contest should be a test of the mind, not the clash of arms or strength."
A ripple of murmuring stirred among the courtiers. Princess Chu Xiuying frowned, her expression displeased.
"What do you propose?" she asked coolly.
Qi Dongyang turned to meet her gaze and answered:
"I propose we move the contest to the Grand Hall, where such a scholarly duel would befit its dignity."
Chu Xiuying raised an eyebrow, studying him anew. Though irked by this unexpected change, she had to admit the suggestion was fitting for the nature of their contest.
"So be it," she agreed.
The Grand Hall of the Kingdom of Qi
The Grand Hall loomed vast and majestic at the heart of the palace, its soaring ceilings carved with golden dragons coiled among the clouds. Great chandeliers cast a warm, soft light over the smooth marble floors.
At the far end, the Dragon Throne reigned supreme — a marvel of intricate craftsmanship, backed by a golden silk tapestry depicting a soaring dragon amidst the heavens, symbolizing imperial might and grandeur.
Below, the hall was meticulously arranged with lacquered tables for the officials of both kingdoms. Each table was furnished with scrolls, brushes, and inkstones, prepared for the recording of the contest's results.
At the center stood the scholarly arena — two long wooden tables set parallel, each flanked by a single chair for the competitors: Qi Dongyang and the Grand Tutor of Chu.
Upon the Dragon Throne, the Emperor observed in silence, his expression unreadable. At his side, Empress Ling Zhangli maintained her icy composure, her thoughts hidden behind an inscrutable gaze.
The officials from both realms watched with bated breath. Tension thickened the air, heavy with the gravity of what was about to unfold — a battle of wits that would decide the fate of nations.
Qi Dongyang returned clad in fresh attire — a pristine white robe embroidered with faint cloud patterns, a stark contrast to his usual carefree demeanor. Now, he exuded the solemn grace of a true scholar.
As he entered the Grand Hall, every eye turned toward him. Sitting near Princess Chu Xiuying was the Grand Tutor of Chu, a man in his fifties, his demeanor composed and self-assured. In one hand, he held a folding fan adorned with ancient poems; with the other, he leisurely stirred the air, seemingly unbothered by the occasion.
Beside him sat the radiant Princess Chu Xiuying, whispering softly to the Grand Tutor, a faint, confident smile playing on her lips.
The officials of Chu murmured among themselves:
"Our Grand Tutor is a sage famed across the land."
"It is said he can compose a masterpiece in the span of a single breath."
"The Kingdom of Qi is doomed. The Ninth Prince is but a pleasure-seeker."
Today's contest would center upon the art of poetry — a sublime discipline testing wit, emotion, and scholarly judgment.
The Emperor lifted his hand, signaling the start. Three drumbeats echoed through the Grand Hall.
Thus began the battle of minds between Qi Dongyang and the Grand Tutor of Chu!
The Grand Tutor cast a brief, mocking glance at Qi Dongyang before speaking:
"If that is the case, I shall not refuse..."
He swept his gaze across the hall and declared,
"...In deference to our hosts, I shall choose the topic for the first round."
A stir of concern ran through the Qi officials — the Grand Tutor was a renowned master of verse, and choosing his own topic meant playing to his strengths.
Smiling faintly, the Grand Tutor twirled his fan and announced in a clear voice:
"The theme for the first round shall be: Admiring Peach Blossoms in the Spring Breeze."
Qi Dongyang merely offered a slight, sardonic smile.
Without further ado, the Grand Tutor dipped his brush into ink and began to compose, reciting his verse aloud:
"Peach blossoms bloom in the vernal breeze,
Like pink clouds brushing the azure skies.
Petals kissed by dew, pearls in the dawn,
Tremble and sway, stirring the heart's sighs.
Their fragrance drifts through crag and vale,
As maidens frolic beneath shaded trees.
Branches bow beneath the springtime rain,
As heaven itself blushes in homage."
Upon the final syllable of the Grand Tutor's recitation, a profound silence fell over the Grand Hall. His poem, elegant and flowing, had so captivated the assembly that many forgot even to breathe.
The officials of Chu rose to their feet in thunderous applause. Even Princess Chu Xiuying allowed a smile of satisfaction to bloom upon her lips, casting a glance of unmistakable challenge toward Qi Dongyang.
"Will the Ninth Prince still dare to continue?"
Qi Dongyang stepped forward into the center of the Grand Hall, every gaze drawn irresistibly to him. The Grand Tutor fanned himself leisurely, the look in his eyes one of undisguised superiority, while Princess Chu Xiuying's smile brimmed with mocking amusement.
"Will the Ninth Prince still dare to continue?" she repeated, her tone laced with hidden meaning, as if suggesting he surrender gracefully. Indeed, the Grand Tutor's poem was so flawless that even the officials of Qi seemed spellbound.
The Emperor sat solemnly upon his throne, uttering not a word. Likewise, the Empress remained silent, sipping her tea with an air of detachment. Only the Second Prince and Minister Liu Shang wore smirks of triumph, their eyes gleaming with scorn, as if Qi Dongyang's defeat was already assured.
Yet Qi Dongyang did not respond to Princess Chu Xiuying's provocation. Instead, he strode calmly to the center of the hall, knelt, and offered a formal bow to the Emperor and Empress, his face an impassive mask. However, as he rose, he stole a brief glance at the Empress — a fleeting, knowing glint in his eye.
For but a heartbeat...
The Empress, who had maintained her cold composure, faltered. She cleared her throat and turned her face away, gripping her fan a little tighter, her cheeks inexplicably warming.
No one else noticed this subtle change — no one but Qi Dongyang, who allowed himself a faint, deliberate smile.
Sweeping his gaze across the hall, he then raised his brush, placed it upon the pristine paper before him, and, without hesitation, continued the verse where the Grand Tutor had left off:
"Among snowfields, peach branches take root,
Awaiting sunlight to weave its golden crown.
Though frost may sear the tender heart of youth,
Its fragrance lingers, defiant and profound.
Gentle winds scatter petals to the ground,
As blossoms are slighted by fleeting scorn;
Yet their roots hold firm against every storm,
Falling, but fearless, to embrace the earth.
Under vast skies, pink hues remain bright,
Passing through seasons without wither or blight.
Though tempests rage across the shattered plains,
Their noble spirit endures — eternal, untamed."
As Qi Dongyang finished, an uncanny stillness gripped the hall once more.
The officials of Qi stared, mouths agape, scarcely believing that the Ninth Prince — so long dismissed as a frivolous wastrel — could weave such flawless verses to match the Grand Tutor's, even extending them with three stanzas of profound depth and unyielding spirit, exalting the dignity of the Kingdom of Qi.
Soon, a smattering of applause arose among Qi's officials, swelling rapidly into a thunderous ovation that echoed across the Grand Hall.
Qi Dongyang stood serenely, twirling his brush slowly to flick away the excess ink, his gaze calm and indifferent to the clamor of admiration.
In contrast, the Grand Tutor's hand froze midway through fanning, his expression stiffening ever so slightly. Princess Chu Xiuying, too, arched an elegant brow, regarding Qi Dongyang anew, her previously dismissive gaze replaced with one of genuine intrigue.
"The Ninth Prince... possesses no small measure of talent," she murmured softly, the surprise evident in her eyes.
Standing tall in the center of the hall, Qi Dongyang offered a faint, sly smile before speaking in a smooth, steady voice:
"Since the first round's topic was chosen by the venerable Tutor, it is only fair that I be granted the right to choose the next."
The Grand Tutor nodded slowly, his countenance cool and composed, betraying no hint of disturbance.
"Very well, Ninth Prince. What shall be the theme?"
Raising his brush once more, Qi Dongyang placed it upon a fresh scroll and, drawing upon memories from a distant world, chose a theme foreign yet profound — The Twin White Swans.
And he recited:
"In boundless skies, two white swans soar,
Their wings unfurling in the azure void.
Not alone, not solitary anymore,
They venture forth, side by side.
Beneath the sun, their dreams ignite,
Their hopes reflected in endless light.
Though fierce winds may buffet the skies,
Their shadows entwined shall never divide."
The moment Qi Dongyang finished his recitation, the Grand Hall fell into a profound silence, as if all were lost within the gentle, warm, and steadfast beauty hidden within his verses.
Even the Emperor wore a contemplative expression, while the Empress unconsciously tightened her grip upon her fan.
The officials of Qi broke into thunderous applause, their voices rising in admiration.
"Such exquisite poetry!"
"How profound its meaning, how stirring its metaphors!"
Yet, while many were still captivated by the golden verses, the Grand Tutor of Chu let out a sudden, resounding laugh that echoed through the hall.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!"
Every gaze turned toward the Grand Tutor. Even Qi Dongyang arched a brow slightly before asking in an even tone,
"May I ask what amuses you, Master?"
Closing his fan, the Grand Tutor tapped the table lightly, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he said,
"I laugh because... the poem you have just recited was composed by none other than myself, many years ago! I never expected you would use my own work to challenge me, the very author! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
At his words, the Grand Hall fell deathly silent.
The officials of Qi glanced at one another in disbelief. Even Qi Dongyang raised an eyebrow slightly, a trace of derision flickering in his eyes.
"Oh? Is that so?"
The Grand Tutor paid no heed to Qi Dongyang's subtle mockery. He lifted his brush and, without hesitation, smoothly recited the very same verses that Qi Dongyang had earlier presented:
"In boundless skies, two white swans soar,
Their wings unfurling in the azure void.
Not alone, not solitary anymore,
They venture forth, side by side.
Beneath the sun, their dreams ignite,
Their hopes reflected in endless light.
Though fierce winds may buffet the skies,
Their shadows entwined shall never divide.
Reflected upon clear waters below,
Two hearts nestled close in tranquil delight;
Though storms and darkness may blot the sky,
Love's tether shall never be torn apart.
They soar toward distant dreams unknown,
Leaving everlasting memories in their flight;
In entwined grace, their souls forever dance,
Bound by heaven's own hand, destined to unite."
Once more, the hall was struck dumb.
Not only had the Grand Tutor flawlessly continued the poem, he also claimed its authorship!
"This is unbelievable!"
"Could it be true that the Ninth Prince merely plagiarized the Grand Tutor's work?"
Whispers spread rapidly; confusion and doubt clouded the assembly.
Qi Dongyang stood composed, yet his eyes flashed briefly.
He could not be certain whether such a poem existed in this ancient world — in his own era, it was a fragment remembered from a distant, modern time, and even he did not know the original author. Yet the Grand Tutor now boldly claimed it as his own?
'Old fox... what a shameless trick,' Qi Dongyang thought, shaking his head slowly. He had not anticipated such underhanded schemes.
The sound of hurried footsteps broke the tension. The Second Prince strode forward, his expression thunderous, pointing an accusing finger at Qi Dongyang.
"Shameful!" he roared. "How can we allow this to pass unpunished? To plagiarize the Grand Tutor's verses in a scholarly contest — it is not only disgraceful but also tarnishes the honor of the Qi royal house!"
His voice rang loudly, as if to ensure none could feign ignorance.
Minister Liu Shang stepped forth as well, bowing slightly before speaking in an icy, cutting tone:
"Your Majesty, such an act cannot go without reprisal. If we let this offense pass, the Kingdom of Chu will hold us in contempt. Worse yet, if we fail to punish it, our scholarly integrity shall erode. Who will strive to compose true poetry if plagiarism is rewarded?"
Murmuring rose like a rising tide. Disappointment clouded the eyes of the officials; some shook their heads, others sighed heavily.
"How could the Ninth Prince stoop to this?"
"The Grand Tutor of Chu is renowned across the land — he would not accuse falsely without proof."
"I too recall hearing such verses before... it seems the Ninth Prince has erred gravely."
The whispers grew louder.
On the platform, Princess Chu Xiuying laughed mockingly.
"Ha! Ha! Ha! How pitiable the Kingdom of Qi has become — to have none better than a pleasure-seeking prince to represent them! And when lacking true talent, to resort to stealing another's verses? Such is the dignity of Qi?"
She shook her head with derision, her laughter so biting that even the Emperor of Qi furrowed his brows in displeasure.
Yet Qi Dongyang remained utterly composed. Not a ripple of panic touched his features, even as the Second Prince and Minister Liu Shang clamored for his punishment.
Within, however, his mind whirred like a storm.
'This Grand Tutor claims ownership of that poem... but it is a verse I remember from the modern world. How can I prove my innocence?'
His eyes flashed with cold light, though his posture remained calm.
"Why do you remain silent, Ninth Prince?" the Second Prince barked. "Is it because you know yourself guilty?"
Qi Dongyang slowly lifted his gaze, a faint smile curving his lips.
"Your Highness is too hasty in judgment. Or perhaps... you desire so deeply to see me condemned that you have forgotten: to accuse without evidence is itself a grave offense in Qi."
His voice was steady and unshaken.
"Evidence? Ha! What evidence could you possibly offer?"
"My evidence?" Qi Dongyang chuckled softly, then spoke slowly:
"I merely question whether the Grand Tutor truly composed that poem years ago, as he claims."
The Grand Tutor narrowed his eyes slightly, his voice cold.
"And do you accuse me of deceit, Ninth Prince?"
"I dare not," Qi Dongyang replied smoothly. "I merely request proof."
He smiled thinly.
"If you truly composed it long ago, surely you recall the verses that follow?"
A heavy silence enveloped the hall.
"I wrote it many years ago," the Grand Tutor said stiffly. "It is natural that my memory may have dimmed."
Qi Dongyang stepped forward, his bearing proud and unyielding. His gaze pierced into the Grand Tutor's, his voice laden with veiled scorn.
"The name of the Grand Tutor of Chu is lauded throughout the realm — the sage of our age, a master whose words are golden, whose brush births poetry renowned far and wide."
Though polite, Qi Dongyang's words were steeped in mockery.
"Yet to accuse me of theft — that is no small matter. I, foolish though I may be, seem to have composed a poem identical to yours. Let me pose a simple question."
He advanced another step, sweeping his gaze across the hall.
"If I did not plagiarize... what then? Would the Grand Tutor still retain his vaunted honor?"
His words reverberated throughout the hall. Even the Emperor turned his gaze sharply toward the Grand Tutor.
Princess Chu Xiuying's sneer faltered slightly. The Second Prince and Minister Liu Shang exchanged uneasy glances.
The Grand Tutor chuckled lowly.
"If it is not mine, then whose is it?"
"It is mine," Qi Dongyang declared.
The hall fell deathly silent. Some officials swallowed nervously, their fans trembling slightly in their grasp.
"I shall compose another verse now," Qi Dongyang said, his voice calm but filled with rising fire. "If you still insist it is yours, I shall concede."
He strode over to a wine jar resting beside a table, lifted it, and drank deeply. Then he tossed a brush to the court scribe standing nearby.
"Write as I speak."
The court scribe caught the brush with trembling hands, not from fear, but from excitement at what was to come.
Qi Dongyang drew a deep breath, his eyes bright as stars, and began to recite in a ringing voice:
"Plum blossoms bloom amid the winter's chill,
Their fragrance sweet upon the silent night.
Though snow may bury springtime's tender will,
Flowers endure, unyielding to the blight.
Harsh winds may lash with blades unseen,
Yet twisted boughs cling firm and strong.
Without the sun to coax them into green,
They blaze their beauty mid the frozen throng.
Amidst the frost, their colors brightly gleam,
No bees nor butterflies to share their sky.
Alone they stand, their spirit pure, supreme,
Their splendor defies the deathly, bitter sigh.
Even when winter's tempest retreats in flight,
Their lingering scent whispers of dauntless pride —
Not merely a flower to please the mortal eye,
But the spirit of courage, blooming against the tide."
At the final line, the Grand Hall was so silent that it seemed not a soul dared to breathe.
A court official, lost in awe, dropped his fan onto the marble floor — yet no one stooped to retrieve it. All eyes remained fixed upon Qi Dongyang, their gazes filled with stunned disbelief.
The royal scribe, tasked with recording the poems, was sweating profusely, his hand trembling as he struggled to keep pace with the flow of words.
"O Heavens above…! This is…!"
Several officials gasped aloud, unable to contain their shock. Even the Emperor himself arched an eyebrow slightly in surprise.
The Grand Tutor of Chu, who had remained motionless throughout, now shifted uneasily. His hands, resting upon his lap, clenched tightly without his knowing.
Qi Dongyang spared him a glance and smiled coolly.
"Grand Tutor," he said softly — yet his voice rang clear across the silent hall, "when, pray tell, did you compose such verses?"
Without allowing the Grand Tutor time to recover, Qi Dongyang stepped forward once more and, without pause, began reciting a new poem, its theme: The Fierce Tiger in the Snowy Forest.
"The moonlight spills across a curtain of snow,
A shadow glides atop swaying trees below.
Claws gleam sharp, like blades of steel aglow,
Rending the winds with a mighty roar to show.
Steps silent, yet malice seethes and flows,
A single roar shakes the forest's frozen heart.
Fangs flash beneath the midnight's sacred glow,
Striking the earth in a fearsome, shadowed dart.
Beneath the canopy of savage, blood-stained snow,
Crimson talons reflect the moon's blood-red art.
Above all beasts that in winter's white roam,
None rival the tiger — the sovereign alone."
Casting a sidelong glance at the Grand Tutor, Qi Dongyang curled his lips into a faint smile and asked leisurely:
"Grand Tutor, did you compose this as well?"
The Grand Tutor's lips pressed tightly together, but before he could muster a response, Qi Dongyang seized a wine jar, took a hearty swig, and slammed it down upon the table.
"No need to answer."
His voice dripped with mocking contempt. Without pause, he raised his brush and began another composition, its theme: The Beauty of a Woman.
"A silken veil flutters like mist in the breeze,
A face serene beneath the moon's pale light.
One smile surpasses heaven's finest dreams,
Her steps, like a goddess, grace the night.
Arms uplift flowers in the springtime air,
Fragrance surrounding like celestial bloom;
The winds dance to her laughter's tune,
A melody woven by the heavens' loom.
One step, a star's radiant gleam;
Two steps, a moonbeam brushing streams.
Three steps, a poem penned by destiny;
Four steps, a legend in humanity's dreams.
No blossom, no spring, could dare compare,
To the flutter of her flowing gown's flare.
Even autumn leaves hold their breath,
As all of nature sighs in silent homage."
The hall remained enshrouded in silence, the air heavy with astonishment at the river of eloquence pouring effortlessly from Qi Dongyang's lips.
The Grand Tutor of Chu shifted uncomfortably, his composure fraying. Yet this was not the end.
Qi Dongyang lifted his brush high, tracing elegant strokes in the air, as though conducting a silent symphony, before launching into yet another poem — this time, The Alluring Woman of Profound Grace:
"The plum blossom sways at the whisper of spring,
Alone she stands, unshaken by passing gales.
Though not as tender as youthful saplings in bloom,
She shines more radiant than dawn's golden veil.
One smile hides wisdom sharp as a blade,
One word sings a melody of the firmament's span.
Her eyes, bright as morning stars, read the world,
Standing firm though mountains bow in surrender.
Flowers that bloom too soon swiftly wither,
Yet she endures, time only deepening her splendor.
Like fine wine preserved through the endless years,
Her fragrance grows richer, her worth supreme.
O peerless maiden, so noble, so grand,
Surpassing even springtime's fleeting hand.
Though the seasons turn and eras fade,
She remains — the soul of the earth, eternal."
Several Qi officials who had once sat in tense silence now nodded approvingly; some even sighed in awe and admiration.
Qi Dongyang met the Grand Tutor's gaze, chuckled softly, and asked, his voice cutting through the air:
"Grand Tutor… when exactly did you compose these poems?"
The Grand Tutor, under relentless pressure, gripped his fan so tightly that veins bulged at his temples.
The Second Prince, who had earlier gloated with confidence, now fell into stunned silence.
The Empress, once stern, lowered her gaze slightly, the faintest hint of a smile curling at her lips — a smile no one noticed.
As for Chu Xiuying… her luminous eyes now flickered with excitement and a trace of uncertainty. She studied Qi Dongyang intently, her vivid lips curving into a small, unreadable smile.
The Grand Hall remained deathly silent…
The Grand Tutor of Chu had no way to retreat.
In the suffocating stillness, he stood trembling. His wrist, clutching the fan, shook visibly. His eyes were clouded — a mix of confusion and wrath — as all the onlookers remained speechless, even Chu Xiuying herself furrowing her brows in bafflement at the turn of events.
"Grand Tutor..." the Second Prince called out in a trembling voice, pale as death.
Before the Grand Tutor could respond, a dry cough escaped his lips. His body shuddered violently as he clutched his chest. Dark crimson blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, staining his white robes, before bursting forth in a fine spray.
"Urgh...!"
The sickening sound of blood splattering echoed across the hall. The Grand Tutor collapsed to the floor, utterly spent.
His trembling hand reached weakly toward Qi Dongyang, but could not even lift a finger.
He had been utterly defeated.
A thick, oppressive silence blanketed the Grand Hall as all gazes fell upon the fallen sage. Slowly, his eyes fluttered closed, and the final breath of the once-revered scholar was drawn.
At that moment, the hall erupted into chaos.
Officials of Qi, long silent, roared in exultation:
"The Ninth Prince is truly brilliant!"
"The Grand Tutor's slander has been exposed!"
Cries of triumph reverberated through the vast hall:
"Who would have thought the Grand Tutor would stoop to such deception? A shame upon his name!"
"Indeed! Justice has prevailed!"
"With but a few poems, the Ninth Prince shattered his deceit — astonishing beyond words!"
"This is the true poet of the age!"
Amidst the thundering applause, the faces of Chu's delegation turned deathly pale, unable to offer a single word of defense.
The Second Prince, once so haughty, staggered back a step, speechless. Minister Liu Shang's expression was ashen, as though he had witnessed a calamity.
Chu Xiuying, who once brimmed with confidence, now sat frozen, her hands tightly clenched beneath her sleeves, her brilliant gaze locked on Qi Dongyang, as though desperate to see through him.
In contrast, Qi Dongyang remained serene, unmoved by the cheers. Deep within his obsidian eyes flickered a glint of disdain. A faint smile graced his lips.
"Lies may cloud the truth for a time..."
"But eventually, the truth shall prevail."
He raised the wine jar again and drank deeply, casting a final glance at the Grand Tutor's lifeless form, murmuring softly:
"I have yet to reveal who truly authored those verses..."
Applause thundered throughout the hall. The Emperor of Qi rose from his dragon throne and proclaimed in a voice rich with power:
"Victory belongs to the Ninth Prince! The Kingdom of Qi has triumphed in this literary contest!"
The Grand Hall exploded with celebration as the officials of Qi stood to cheer, even the usually reserved elders nodding in deep approval.
Qi Dongyang merely stood in the center of it all, relaxed, as though he had foreseen this outcome long ago.
The Emperor cast a glance toward the delegation of Chu, lifting an eyebrow slightly.
"Will the Kingdom of Chu acknowledge its defeat, or has it anything else to say?"
Chu Xiuying stood still, silent for a long moment. She gazed upon the Grand Tutor's fallen body, complex emotions flashing through her brilliant eyes. Finally, she lowered herself into a bow.
"The Kingdom of Chu… acknowledges defeat in this round."
Her voice, though clear, carried no emotion — a mere formality. Yet as the Qi officials prepared to jeer, Chu Xiuying raised her head, her gaze blazing fiercely.
"But do not rejoice too soon..." she said, her voice cutting through the clamor like a blade. A faint smile curved her lips.
"...for tomorrow, in the contest of martial might, Chu shall claim victory!"
Without awaiting a response, she turned sharply and ordered her officials and guards to bear away the Grand Tutor's body.
The former pride and arrogance of Chu's delegation had evaporated into grim silence, yet Chu Xiuying maintained her composure, walking away without a backward glance.
After Chu's party departed, the Emperor of Qi chuckled softly and praised:
"Excellent! Truly excellent! Never had I imagined our Ninth Prince possessed such skill!"
His eyes glowed with open admiration as he looked upon Qi Dongyang. Beside him, the Empress said nothing, but her gaze, once cold, now softened with unspoken pride.
Yet in the next moment, the Emperor's expression darkened slightly. His eyes narrowed as he turned to the Second Prince.
"There is one matter I cannot overlook."
His voice, once warm, now ran chill as ice.
"Second Prince… Minister Liu Shang."
Both men stiffened, stepping forward to kneel with utmost deference.
"Your Majesty, what would you have of us?" the Second Prince asked nervously.
The Emperor's gaze bored into them, calm yet deadly.
"Why did you behave as though eager for Qi's defeat? Did you truly doubt the Ninth Prince's abilities, or were you simply eager to curry favor with Chu?"
The hall fell silent at once. Whispers rippled through the officials.
The Second Prince bowed his head low. Minister Liu Shang likewise lowered himself deeply.
"Your Majesty! We only wished to safeguard Qi's honor — we meant no treason!" they cried out in unison.
The Emperor stared at them a long moment before finally waving his hand.
"Let it pass... for now."
The Second Prince and Minister Liu Shang hastily withdrew under the piercing gazes of the court.
Qi Dongyang listened quietly throughout, his face impassive.
His eyes drifted to the seat where Chu Xiuying had once sat, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Tomorrow's contest of martial skill..."
He whispered to himself, lifting the wine jar for another sip.
"It should be quite entertaining."