Chapter Forty-Six: Heated Discussions and the Confrontation of Foes

“Useless. Good for nothing, a ruinous waste.”
Within the Duke of Sui’s mansion, Qin Weiren was beside himself with rage, his fury unrestrained.
The incident at the Lotus Garden literary gathering, though not flawless, ought not to have gone awry.
Had a little caution been exercised, Han Fu’s literary reputation could have been seized, his poetry stolen.
Even if the outcome seemed forced, with clever manipulation, time would gradually sever those seven poems from Han Fu’s name.
Yet Zhao Ziqian proved unfit for the task, so easily undone by a few words, left utterly disgraced.
“A literary master... Ha... All facade, empty fame.”
Qin Weiren sneered, grinding his teeth.
Before today, he had been convinced this scheme would succeed, and thus did not attend the gathering in person.
When the gathering ended and word reached him, Qin Weiren found it almost unbelievable.
“Where is Zhao Ziqian?” Qin Weiren asked, his face dark.
The attendant replied, “Unable to show his face, he left the city with his family early; no one knows where.”
“Well, he’s clever enough not to mention the Qin family.” Qin Weiren dropped his gaze coldly, laughing, “He left in haste—afraid the Qin family would cause him trouble?”
The attendant said nothing, standing with lowered head.
After a moment, Qin Weiren’s expression eased, and the attendant ventured, “Second Master, shall we go to Elegant Court?”
Qin Weiren considered.
To destroy Han Fu’s literary name, steal his poetry, and leave him ruined—such a victory should be celebrated.
He had planned to invite Zhao Ziqian to Elegant Court for drinks once the scheme succeeded, to guess lantern riddles, and enjoy the famed Eight Beauties.
But plans change faster than fate.
Now Zhao Ziqian was a rat in the gutter, whereabouts unknown.
Alone, Qin Weiren’s mood soured.
After a while, he drew a deep breath and rose. “Let’s go.”
Though the plot had failed, it did not implicate the Qin family; aside from his anger, there was no other consequence.
Elegant Court would be a good place to vent his frustration.
The Eight Beauties were renowned, each with her own talents—a marvel in their own right.
Should one wish to enjoy a night with them, money was not required; only a correct answer to a lantern riddle would win their service for an evening.
But the riddles were notoriously difficult; few ever solved them, which had long drawn criticism.
Qin Weiren understood this was Elegant Court’s cleverness—if everyone could guess the answer, what would be the appeal?

“Bring along a few clever attendants.” Qin Weiren strode outside, determination rising within him.
The attendants hurried off at his command.
Once he left the mansion, eight men followed closely behind.
The carriage sped ahead, attendants running alongside, and sometimes snippets of street conversation reached Qin Weiren’s ears, deepening his gloom.
“A major event at the Lotus Garden today.”
“Zhao Ziqian, long famed as a literary master, turns out to be a cunning fraud—astonishing!”
“In a perilous moment, the son-in-law of the Zhou family resolved it skillfully with a few words, forcing Zhao Ziqian to confess—truly quick-witted!”
“With such talent, why settle for being a son-in-law?”
“I heard Miss Baili defended him today, and Han Fu wrote her a poem. When they exchanged glances, their affection was clear—like a harmonious duet.”
Everywhere, people discussed the events, and Qin Weiren’s hatred grew stronger.
Baili Mingsu, such a remarkable woman, should have been his.
Had Han Fu not interfered, none of this would have happened.
“You escaped today, but our paths will cross again.” Qin Weiren’s eyes flashed coldly, then he closed his eyes to ignore the street chatter.
“Second Master, we’ve arrived.”
The attendant’s soft call made Qin Weiren open his eyes again.
He stepped from the carriage straight into Elegant Court, eight attendants following, their presence imposing.
“Oh, Second Master Qin, you’re here!” The madam greeted him with a coquettish smile.
Qin Weiren paused—not out of distaste for her, but because the guests in the hall were discussing the literary gathering.
“Like clouds on robes, blossoms in beauty... Surely she will meet at the Jade Terrace under the moon. With this poem, Dingxing has no more ‘three beauties’.”
“Thanks to this poem, Baili Mingsu’s name will echo through eternity.”
“Countless ladies must envy her today. If such a poem were written for me, I’d never need money here—the famous courtesans would vie to share my bed.”
“Haha... Well said, brother.”
“Zhao Ziqian dug his own grave today.”
“All for a few poems, he lost his face—calls himself a literary master, pfft...”
“Han Fu’s talent goes beyond poetry; his calligraphy is unique, praised by Master Wen and three scholars, who competed to acquire his work.”
“I was at the gathering today and had the privilege to see seven characters. His calligraphy is exceptional; I cannot compare. In time, Han Fu will be a great master.”
“Oh? Which seven characters? Tell us, brother.”
‘Don’t shake the emerald lotus, knock Liwa.’
“Forgive my ignorance, I cannot fathom the meaning of those seven characters.”

“Shameless, scoundrel.”
“Are you insulting me? Looking for a fight?”
Qin Weiren walked through, all the guests’ conversations clear as day, even some courtesans lamenting their fate.
“If only Han Fu would write me a poem, I’d serve him with all my skills.”
“We girls of the dust, faded flowers and broken willows, could never expect such fortune.”
“Though he’s just a son-in-law, his talent is extraordinary. If I could just see him, I’d be content.”
“If he wrote me a verse, I’d die happy.”
“Clouds on robes, blossoms in beauty... Such lovely lines—what woman wouldn’t adore them?”
“There are many beauties at Elegant Court; whoever receives a poem from Han Fu could become the most sought-after courtesan.”
“I heard Han Fu was here today, but he didn’t call for any girls to serve him.”
“Han Fu is here?” Qin Weiren frowned, asking the madam who led the way.
Since entering Elegant Court, Qin Weiren had feigned indifference, ignoring the talk around him.
But hearing Han Fu was present, his agitation could no longer be contained.
“Yes,” the madam replied, pausing with a seductive smile, “he’s right there, drinking with friends.”
Qin Weiren looked where she pointed; Han Fu’s private room was just ahead on their route.
At the door, three or four courtesans passed by, sneaking glances inside, their excitement barely hidden.
“Which one is Han Fu?”
“The one on the east side; the other two are regulars, Young Master Chen and Young Master Xiao. I’ve served Young Master Xiao—he’s quite vigorous.”
“It’s him! He’s very handsome. I wish I could approach him—if he chose me, I’d let him do as he pleased tonight.”
“You shameless thing, do you want to die?”
The courtesans whispered as they passed Han Fu’s room, only to fall silent when they noticed the madam and attendants, hurriedly bowing and departing.
“Forgive the girls’ loose tongues, Young Master Qin.” The madam apologized with a smile.
Qin Weiren ignored her, brushing past toward Han Fu’s room.
At the door, he saw Han Fu and his companions drinking. Qin Weiren strode in, his face full of disdain and contempt.
“A mere son-in-law dares to seek pleasure here—how bold, how reckless!”