Palace Fighting Naive Concubines’ Ascent to Power

38: Chapter 38: The Underachiever Writes a Poem 38: Chapter 38: The Underachiever Writes a Poem As the eunuchs and palace maids brought forward brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones, the concubines concentrated and fell into deep thought, beginning to ponder how to compose their poetry.

The scene suddenly quieted down.

As the Emperor’s gaze swept around the room, passing by Lian Hua’s direction, he saw the Little Concubine propping her face with her left hand and holding a brush in the right, staring at the paper and furrowing her brows in deep contemplation, the very image of discouragement, clearly at a loss for words.

Her sitting posture was all over the place, far from proper, forming a stark contrast with the other concubines sitting upright next to her.

The Emperor withdrew his gaze, having a good idea of what to expect; he could predict what the Little Concubine’s attempt would be like.

To put it bluntly, it would be a miracle if she produced anything at all; excelling was out of the question.

Lian Hua racked her brain, finding it so difficult.

The lyrics had to be beautiful, the matching words had to be neat, and attention had to be paid to the tonal patterns, oh, how do the flat and oblique tones work again?

Had the teacher taught that?

She couldn’t remember, feeling more flustered by the minute.

She subconsciously wanted to pull her hair but then remembered she was at a banquet, so she put her hand down, repeating the motion again and again, utterly conflicted.

The Emperor caught a glimpse of this from the corner of his eye and couldn’t help but have a smile in his eyes.

Next to him, the Noble Consort spoke to him gently.

Seeing him like this, her heart thumped wildly, feeling the Emperor was incredibly handsome, and his smile simply irresistible, his charm overwhelming, setting her heart aflutter – even she couldn’t help but feel agitated.

Panicking, she wanted to lower her head but remembered her status as the Noble Consort.

She couldn’t show panic like the other concubines.

She had to maintain her poise and forcibly kept her composure, yet her words became jumbled.

The Emperor didn’t even know what the Noble Consort beside him was saying, responding only occasionally.

Though he sat in his proper place, looking towards the bottom corner, his thoughts were not on her, and he didn’t notice her unease.

Lian Hua noticed that some people had already started to write and felt increasingly anxious.

After a while, more and more people began calling for the eunuchs to take their poems and present them to the main seat, while the paper in front of her remained spotless!

Lian Hua became even more agitated, feeling so anxious as if her hair was about to fall out.

She had to write something, as it would be unacceptable to turn in a blank paper – even random ramblings would be better than nothing.

As time passed and seeing more people submitting their poems, Lian Hua steeled herself, hurriedly scribbled down a few lines, and then signed her name in the bottom left corner, finally being the last to hand it in.

She breathed a sigh of relief, feeling as if her head was buzzing, utterly exhausted, wanting nothing more than to collapse into her chair, yet she had to make an effort to maintain the last bit of decorum.

As soon as some had finished and presented their works, the Noble Consort and the Emperor started to review them.

Now that everyone had finished and submitted their work, the Noble Consort said, “My sisters have worked hard.

His Majesty and I have reviewed some of the first submissions and are very pleased to find that your literary talents are truly notable.”

All the concubines, especially those who submitted their poems first, were now beaming with pride, barely able to contain their joy, knowing that they had caught the eye of the Noble Consort and His Majesty, indicating that they stood a strong chance for the top spot.

Amongst the group, only Lian Hua felt nervous.

She believed that her writing was inadequate and was bound to be a laughingstock.

But not submitting was not an option.

It was like turning in homework to a teacher; not submitting meant a penalty of ten strikes, while submitting meant only five.

Better to submit and face a lighter punishment.

The next step was the evaluation phase.

In the order of submission, the Noble Consort flipped through a stack of poems, reading and then commenting on each, handing the good ones to the Emperor for his review.

The Noble Consort came across one and read the last line aloud, “The autumn leaves in Jinwu Garden are yellow, and the parasol trees shed no leaves on a frost-free night.” She commented, “This one describes the early autumn scenery in Jinwu Garden.

Your Majesty, this line is quite exceptional.

Please have a look.”

The Emperor took it, scanned it for a moment, and said, “Hmm, indeed it’s not bad, and the handwriting is good too.”

This poem was written by Talented Lady Sun, who, since her childhood, had been well-versed in poetry and was renowned for her talent in the Jiangnan region.

Alas, after entering the palace, she left many noble family scions in Jiangnan heaving deep sighs of regret.

Hearing the praise from the Noble Consort and His Majesty, Talented Lady Sun rose to her feet and performed a curtsey toward the seat of honor, saying demurely, “Your Majesty, Consort, you flatter me too much; I am overwhelmed with anxiety.”

A blush of excitement appeared on her face, and anyone with discerning eyes could tell how delighted she was.

“Good writing naturally deserves praise, and you’ve earned it.

Sit down,” the Noble Consort said with a smile, speaking a few words to her and placing the poem that His Majesty had passed back to her aside.

There were already several selected masterpieces there, and the final top place would be chosen from among them.

Flipping through a few more, when she came to the second to last one, the Noble Consort read out, “Sitting and watching the autumn wind stir, the flowers wilt and the leaves yellow.

One should know prosperity comes and goes, just like the seasons of spring, summer, autumn, and winter.”

After reading, she looked up, beaming at Xu Zhaoyi and said, “Sister Xu’s poem has a unique breadth of mind, but it still needs a bit more attention to the parallelism and prosody.”

Having said that, she stacked the poem with others deemed of mediocre assessment and looked no further.

Upon hearing this, Xu Zhaoyi stood up, curtseyed towards the Noble Consort, and said with an impassive face, “Thank you for the guidance, Noble Consort, your concubine has taken the lesson to heart.”

After speaking, she directly returned to her seat.

She was born into a military family; her father was the Great General Xu at court, a brisk and straightforward man who seldom spoke much.

His least favorite things were pedantic nit-picking over words, and the people he could not stand the most were those like Beauty Li.

She enjoyed wielding a whip and was very direct.

The one the Palace Maid Li feared the most in the palace was her.

She was fierce and seldom spoke; a disagreement would quickly lead to a lashing with her whip.

Initially, Beauty Li had inadvertently offended her and nearly got whipped.

Even complaining to the Noble Consort did not help.

With the support of Great General Xu and being highly valued by the Emperor, even the Noble Consort had to give her some deference.

The flower appreciation banquet today was hosted by the Noble Consort, and she attended only because she had heard His Majesty would also come, giving a token of face by her presence.

Had it been a usual flower appreciation banquet, she would not have come.

She skipped the last lotus viewing banquet because she found it tiresome.

In her eyes, this event was extremely boring—a bunch of women nitpicking over poetry, showing off, and proposing poetry competitions to satisfy certain people’s vanity.

She was already dissatisfied with all this; not handing in a blank paper was already giving enough face.

After hearing the Noble Consort’s critique, she simply responded coldly and did not speak again.

Lian Hua craned her neck to look at Xu Zhaoyi; she was seated too far back, and Xu Zhaoyi was sitting in front of her row, so she had to stretch her neck to see.

She was very curious about Xu Zhaoyi.

After all, she had once tried to curry favor with Consort Zhaoyi.

Now that she finally saw her true face, she appeared to be a spirited woman with few ornaments and a quite distinctive temperament; completely different from the other sisters.

The Noble Consort chuckled without saying much and began turning to the last poem.

Lian Hua sat up straight, feeling nervous, her palms starting to sweat.

Finally, it was her turn.

She felt it was all over; the poem was going to be read out loud and she would become a joke.

What to do?

The Emperor had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

He had noticed early on that Lian Hua was the last to submit her work, which was very much her style.

He patiently listened as the Noble Consort flipped from the beginning to the end of the poems, and now it was finally time to discuss her work.

Watching her sitting there, tense like a well-behaved student awaiting reprimand, he raised his teacup to mask a sip, fearing he might not be able to hold back his laughter.