My Husband Never Oversteps The Bounds Of Propriety - Chapter 27

Chapter 27: The Festive Banquet

The atmosphere of the spring banquet, following the subtle confrontation between the Qin mother-daughter duo and Shen Jiuyuan, seemed to stagnate for a moment before being dispersed by more enthusiastic chatter and the sounds of music.

The guests continued to admire flowers, taste tea, and listen to the opera, but as their gazes shifted, they held more than just curiosity toward the Young Mistress of the Su family; they wondered: what gave this woman from the North the right to enter this elite circle of Jinling’s top merchants?

Shen Jiuyuan acted as if she noticed nothing. She followed Lady Lin, navigating between several acquainted ladies with demeanor and speech that remained impeccable and composed. Matron Yan stood half a step behind her, her face unreadable, only casting a nearly imperceptible look of approval toward Jiuyuan when no one was watching.

On the stage, a lively performance of “A Hundred Birds Paying Homage” was underway, with clashing gongs and fluttering water-sleeves. Madam Qin-Zhou sat in a warming pavilion closest to the stage with several ladies of equal status, laughing and talking as if she had completely forgotten the earlier unpleasantness. Qin Zhaoyan, meanwhile, clustered with several official daughters of similar age, pointing at the performers and laughing clearly, though her eyes frequently darted toward Jiuyuan with a mix of resentment and lingering spite.

Halfway through the feast, the Silk Commissioner’s wife suggested that the ladies move to the open pavilion by the water terrace. Writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones were prepared there for impromptu poetry and painting, along with games like Pitch-Pot and Weiqi for refined amusement. The crowd followed suit.

Entering the pavilion, Shen Jiuyuan saw an elegant arrangement. Famous calligraphies and paintings were hung on all sides, rice paper was spread across long tables, and fine Hui ink and Duan inkstones were ready. On the other side were the Pitch-Pot sets and game boards. Several talented ladies were already wielding brushes, either sketching the spring colors of the garden or writing beautiful lines of poetry.

Shen Jiuyuan was not an expert in poetry or painting, possessing only a rudimentary knowledge, so she stood quietly in a corner admiring the works of others. Lady Lin was pulled away by several ladies to critique a painting, while Matron Yan whispered in Jiuyuan’s ear, introducing the family backgrounds and reputations of the young ladies currently painting.

Just then, Qin Zhaoyan walked over with a smile, holding a glass of fruit wine, followed by two noble girls whose eyes held a hint of fawning.

“Why is the Su Eldest Young Grandmother alone here? Is it that you are not skilled in these arts?” Qin Zhaoyan spoke with a naive tone, as if it were a mindless question, yet provocation lurked in her eyes. “I heard that daughters of the North are mostly skilled in riding and archery; I suppose there is a gap between you and these refined literati pursuits.”

A girl in a peach-red dress beside her covered her mouth and laughed: “Sister Zhaoyan is right. Pitch-pot shares some similarities with archery; why not invite the Su Eldest Young Grandmother to try? Let us open our eyes.”

Another in a primrose-yellow dress echoed: “Indeed, I’ve long heard that the Shen family’s spear techniques are peerless; surely the Su Eldest Young Grandmother’s aim is excellent.”

The three of them spoke in harmony, seemingly inviting her with enthusiasm, but in reality, they were singling out her Northern origin again, their words layered with contempt and exclusion. If Shen Jiuyuan refused, it would confirm she was unskilled in refined arts and out of place in Jiangnan; if she accepted and lost, she would become a laughingstock. The surrounding ladies stopped their activities, their gazes sweeping over with interest in the unfolding drama.

Lady Lin was talking to others in the distance and did not notice. Matron Yan’s brow furrowed, and just as she was about to step in to mediate, Shen Jiuyuan lightly raised her hand to stop her. She turned to face the three girls, her lips still holding that faint, gentle smile and her gaze calm as a lake.

“Miss Qin and you two sisters are most kind, and I would be remiss to decline. However, the game of Pitch-Pot requires a quiet heart and focused spirit, which is quite different from the speed and ferocity of riding and archery. I am ignorant and can only try my best; I hope you all will be patient if I make a fool of myself.”

She neither denied her Northern origin nor showed cowardice. She accepted gracefully, linking the game to internal cultivation, appearing neither humble nor arrogant. A flash of triumph appeared in Qin Zhaoyan’s eyes. “The Su Eldest Young Grandmother is far too modest. Please!” She gestured toward a copper Pitch-Pot of ancient design nearby.

The pot had a narrow neck, a body engraved with auspicious beasts, and already held a few arrows that other ladies had missed. A maid presented a bundle of new arrows with bright tail feathers to Shen Jiuyuan.

Shen Jiuyuan took the arrows, feeling the cold texture of the shafts. She truly had not studied this art deeply. Though her mother taught her archery, it was for health and self-defense, entirely different from this inner-court game. However, she was steady by nature and a keen observer; she had already secretly noted the techniques and strength used by the others.

She walked slowly to the designated white line, steadied her breath, and fixed her gaze on the pot’s opening. The surrounding chatter seemed to fade as her mind quickly calculated distance, angle, and force.

She did not rush to throw the first arrow, but made a slight practice motion to feel the weight. When she released it, the force was a bit light; it hit the rim of the pot and bounced away. Faint, suppressed snickers rose from the crowd, and Qin Zhaoyan’s lips curled into undisguised smugness.

Shen Jiuyuan’s expression remained unchanged, as if it were merely a warm-up. She picked up the second arrow. This time, she adjusted her breathing, dropped her wrist slightly, and sharpened her focus. The arrow traced a smooth arc and with a soft clack landed steadily inside the pot!

The surroundings grew quiet for a moment, followed by several polite murmurs of praise. Qin Zhaoyan’s smile stiffened.

Shen Jiuyuan did not pause. She took two more arrows in succession. Her movements were not flashy but exceptionally stable. Clack. Clack. Two more consecutive hits.

Now, even the ladies who were just watching out of curiosity showed genuine surprise. To hit two out of three was not easy; to hit three out of three was remarkable. Qin Zhaoyan’s face darkened completely. She forced a smile: “The Su Eldest Young Grandmother truly hides her light under a bushel.”

Her eyes darted around, and she suddenly added: “This way of throwing is a bit boring. Why don’t we change the game? Blindfolded, with one’s back turned to the pot how about that? That shows true skill.”

The crowd was stunned. Blindfolded and back-turned Pitch-Pot? The difficulty was increased several times over; it was blatant sabotage. Matron Yan’s face darkened, but Shen Jiuyuan replied flatly: “Since Miss Qin has such refined interest, I shall accompany you.”

A maid brought two strips of plain silk. Qin Zhaoyan was the first to blindfold herself. She turned around, fumbled for an arrow, and threw it blindly backward. Naturally, it didn’t even touch the rim, drawing a few low laughs. She tore off the silk, her face flushed red, but she glared at Shen Jiuyuan.

Shen Jiuyuan took the silk calmly, blindfolded herself, and tied it tight. Her world plunged into darkness. She turned slowly, her back to the pot. All eyes were fixed on her. The pavilion was so silent you could only hear the gurgling water outside and the distant opera.

The darkness cut off her sight but made her other senses exceptionally sharp. She could hear her own heartbeat, feel the slight vibration of the floorboards, and smell the different scents of powders in the air. In her mind, she recalled the position of the pot, the distance, and her standing angle.

Under the breathless gaze of the assembly, Shen Jiuyuan raised her hand, picked up an arrow, and flicked her wrist backward at a subtle angle. The arrow cut through the air with a faint whoosh. Everyone’s hearts leapt into their throats.

Clang!

A crisp sound of metal hitting metal rang out.

Did she hit it?!

The crowd looked in astonishment, only to see that the arrow had not fallen into the pot but had struck the body of the pot, jarring an arrow already inside so hard that it popped out and fell to the floor. Shen Jiuyuan’s own arrow bounced off at an angle.

Was this… a failure?

Qin Zhaoyan was stunned, then nearly laughed out loud. It seemed this Shen Jiuyuan only had good luck earlier; the moment she was blindfolded, her true colors showed.

However, Shen Jiuyuan showed not a trace of annoyance or panic. She stood quietly, her blindfolded face expressionless, her head tilted slightly as if listening for something. Then, before anyone could react, she moved with lightning speed, picking up two more arrows. Her wrists crossed, and she threw them backward almost simultaneously.

The movement was so fast it left only a blur.

Thud! Thud!

Two dull, distinct sounds rang out almost at once.

One arrow landed steadily in the mouth of the pot, while the other precisely struck the tail feathers of the first arrow, pinning it even deeper into the pot.

Silence. A deathly silence.

Everyone stared dumbstruck at the copper pot, where a single vibrating arrow stood, surrounded by the other arrows that had been shaken out or missed. Blindfolded, back-turned not only did she hit it, but she did so in such an inconceivable manner. This required extraordinary hearing, judgment, and control.

“Bravo!”

Someone was the first to cheer, and then praise and applause rushed in like a tide. The ladies who had looked down on her were now filled with genuine respect and shock.

Qin Zhaoyan’s face was ashen, her lips trembling. She watched as Shen Jiuyuan slowly removed the blindfold. Her clear eyes were as calm as ever under the light, as if she had just done something trivial. The Qin eldest daughter felt her face burning as if she had been slapped in public; all her arrogance and schemes appeared laughable before Shen Jiuyuan’s absolute strength.

Shen Jiuyuan nodded slightly to the crowd, her tone still gentle: “It was merely luck; I have made a fool of myself before you.”

She did not say more to the speechless Qin Zhaoyan and walked back to Lady Lin’s side. Lady Lin looked at her daughter-in-law with a complex gaze, finally patting the back of her hand and whispering: “Very well.”

Matron Yan followed behind, a flash of joy in her downcast eyes. This Eldest Young Grandmother’s steadiness and quick wit far exceeded her expectations. After this event, no one would dare look down on her because of her origin. The fact that she hit the pot twice in a row while blindfolded and back-turned would spread through Jinling’s social circles as fast as the spring breeze.

Yet Shen Jiuyuan knew that while today was a triumph, she had offended the Qin family even more deeply. Qin Zhaoyan’s venomous parting glance suggested she blamed Jiuyuan for her own failure; even the Qin matriarch, Madam Qin-Zhou, looked displeased.

Shen Jiuyuan looked out at the shimmering lake, her mind wandering. Just now she was focused on dealing with those petty people, only to realize that both her palms were damp with sweat. She lowered her head slightly. The hardest thing to gauge in this world is the human heart—the hearts of Jinling were a hundred times more dangerous than a game of Pitch-Pot.

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