The Hundred Flowers Banquet hosted by Noble Consort Zhao was, in name, an appreciation of spring blooms. In reality, it was a social slaughterhouse for the capital's elite.
At the banquet, the air was thick with the scent of competing perfumes. Noblewomen were draped in the most expensive cloud-silks and adorned with intricate swinging hairpins, vying for attention. From afar, the Imperial Garden looked like a field of blooming peonies—opulent and breathtaking, yet stiflingly artificial.
However, when Chu Zhaoning appeared, the noisy garden fell into an eerie, sudden silence.
She wore a set of crisp, snow-white combat gear. A silver-trimmed tactical belt cinched her waist, highlighting her sharp, agile silhouette. Her jet-black hair wasn't styled into a complex bun; instead, it was pulled high into a ponytail by a simple silver ribbon, bouncing spiritedly with every step.
If not for her nanny, Meiniang, insistently dabbing a faint touch of cinnabar between her brows and a thin layer of rouge on her cheeks, she would have come completely bare-faced. Even so, her clean, heroic aura made the heavily made-up noblewomen look gaudy by comparison.
"My, isn't this the future Third Princess Consort?" A young lady from the Minister's manor giggled behind her hand, her tone dripping with unconcealed disdain. "Today is the Great Flower Banquet, yet Miss Chu is dressed like... this? Did you lose your way? One might mistake you for a struggling street performer."
"Indeed," another chimed in. "Not a single proper jewel on her head. Has the General's Manor fallen so far that they can't even afford a gold hairpin?"
The mockery rose like a chorus of chirping sparrows. High above, Noble Consort Zhao sipped her tea with practiced grace, watching this collective humiliation with a faint, amused glint in her eyes.
Crimson Nine stood her ground. Her gaze, sharp as a beacon, swept over the beautiful crowd. There was no shame, no retreat. Instead, she took a calm step forward, her voice ringing out like a clear spring:
"Your attire is indeed appropriate—as beautiful as peonies."
Then, her tone turned ice-cold. "But my father and my three brothers—four generals of the Chu family—sacrificed their lives to guard the borders of Great Qi. As the sole survivor of a military lineage, this plain white gear is my mark of respect and mourning for them."
"You wear your reds and greens and enjoy this peace because someone at the border you cannot see used their blood to block the wind and rain."
Crimson Nine looked up, staring directly at Noble Consort Zhao. Her gaze was so piercing it forced others to look away. "I, Chu Zhaoning, do not need jewels for decoration, for the integrity of the Chu family is my finest ornament. I am not a pampered peony in a greenhouse, seeking only a fleeting bloom. I am a deep-rooted tree of the frontier. This gear reminds me that a child of the Chu family must stand tall for the nation and its people, ensuring the commoners live in peace so that you... can have the leisure to gossip about my clothes."
These words were a strike of absolute moral authority. She had elevated a "fashion faux pas" into an act of supreme loyalty and filial piety.
The noblewomen who were just mocking her turned pale, then flushed with embarrassment. To continue laughing would be to mock the fallen heroes of the nation—an insult to the very protectors of Great Qi!
Noble Consort Zhao had expected a one-sided humiliation, but Crimson Nine's "Tree and Flower" speech left her momentarily speechless. The atmosphere in the garden froze; even the sharpest tongues dared not wag in the face of "sacrificing for the country."
"Well said... 'for the nation and the people'." Noble Consort Zhao was a veteran of palace intrigue. She suppressed her inner rage, using a silk handkerchief to elegantly mask her mouth, though her eyes were laced with venom. "Zhaoning's sentiment is indeed moving. Perhaps I was too narrow-minded. However..."
She shifted her gaze to Crimson Nine's bare wrists. "Today is the Flower Banquet, but it is also to celebrate your betrothal to the Third Prince. As a future Princess Consort, if you are always dressed for a fight, ready for the battlefield at any moment, people might think the Imperial family mistreats the children of heroes. It might even lead the court to criticize Zhan'er for being uncouth and lacking grace."
This was a soft dagger—insinuating that Zhaoning would ruin Xiao Zhan's reputation.
Crimson Nine met her gaze, her back straight as a pine. "I appreciate Your Ladyship's concern. But I believe true Imperial dignity does not lie in how many gold pins a Consort wears, but in whether she can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her Prince to protect the lands of Great Qi. If the Third Prince is the kind of mediocre man who only values jewelry, then he is not worthy of a daughter of the Chu family."
"You—insolent!" a maid beside the Consort barked.
"Enough, sister," Consort Hui, who had been sitting quietly, finally spoke. Known for being low-profile, she smiled at Crimson Nine with a rare warmth in her eyes. "I actually find Miss Chu's white gear quite refreshing and sharp. It reminds me a bit of the late Madam Chu. After seeing so many red flowers in the palace, a hardy pine from the snowy peaks is a sight for sore eyes."
Consort Hui's subtle defense made Noble Consort Zhao's expression darken further. But given the public setting, she could only let out a cold laugh. "Since Consort Hui likes it, so be it. However, Zhaoning, since you claim to be a daughter of a military house, I wonder if your skills with a blade are as sharp as your tongue?"
Noble Consort Zhao signaled to the guard behind her. A lean, formidable-looking female officer stepped forward, holding a blunt wooden training sword.
"Since we are admiring flowers, sitting around is dull. I've heard General Chu's spear technique was the best in the world. I wonder if Zhaoning would be willing to perform a dance for us? Let us women of the inner palace see what 'Military Style' truly looks like."
This was no "dance." This was an attempt to make Crimson Nine perform like a common street entertainer for their amusement. Furthermore, the female officer had high temples and steady breathing—clearly an expert in internal martial arts. This was an assassination attempt masked as a "performance."
Crimson Nine looked at the proffered wooden sword, a slight smirk tugging at her lips.
She reached out, her movement casual yet possessing a terrifying grace and lethality, and gripped the hilt.
[System Prompt: Combat Module Activated.]
[Scanning: Target bone density, gait patterns, and defensive weaknesses marked.]
"Since Your Ladyship wishes to see it, I shall make a fool of myself." Crimson Nine's finger slid along the blade, her eyes turning as sharp as a hawk's in an instant. "However, my sword does not follow the path of dance. It only follows the path of the kill. If I accidentally disturb any lady's 'Peony Dream,' I ask for Your Ladyship's indulgence."