The Banquet Begins

Soon the courtyard was near-bursting with cultivators, all in a good mood and eager to see the big show-down. Yang Qinghui was drawn into a debate about poetry forms with Wei Qingwei, and only managed to extract herself when A-Tian and A-Rong appeared in front of her with a message. They looked lovely in complementary grey-and-blue robes, with chest-high ruqun.

Stepping closer, A-Rong told her in a low voice, "All the guests have arrived, Master. Sect Leader Yue was the last to arrive."

"Oh, excellent. Will you let Madam Meng know? I'll go greet Zhangmen-shixiong."

Drifting through the crowd, she spotted Yue Qingyuan near the entrance, flanked by two cultivators and a younger disciple. With his hands clasped behind his back, Yue Qingyuan scanned the courtyard, smiling faintly. Before Yang Qinghui could call out to him, his eyes landed on her.

He froze, turning deathly pale in an instant.

Hurrying up to her faster than she'd ever seen him move, Yue Qingyuan grabbed Yang Qinghui's hand and pressed two fingers to the inside of her wrist, eyes darting up and down her robes and her face.

"Oi, what are you doing?" she demanded, trying to tug her hand away.

Yue Qingyuan's posture relaxed by a fraction. He released her hand.

"Ah, apologies, Yang-shimei. I am simply tired from the Immortal Alliance Conference preparations – my eyes are playing tricks on me." His eyes darted to the jin bu at her waist. "But, shimei… that's your master's jin bu." He emphasized the words as though he thought she might've forgotten.

"I know it is," Yang Qinghui muttered. Damn these memory gaps. What am I missing here?

"You shouldn't wear that," Yue Qingyuan warned, "not when word of it could get back to the former Sect Leader."

Yang Qinghui frowned. "Why would I care about that?"

Stepping forward, Yue Qingyuan lowered his voice but spoke with urgency, his expression grimly serious. "We might be Peak Lords now, shimei, but my master still has power. You've avoided him by lying low on your Peak, I know. Please, for your own sake, continue that."

Irritation prickled in Yang Qinghui's chest. "So you want me to stay isolated? A recluse?"

"No, not at all!" Yue Qingyuan denied, appalled.

"Well, that's what it sounds like," Yang Qinghui snapped. 

"I just mean –" Yue Qingyuan cut himself off, sighing heavily. "It's been nine years. I don't want more conflict within our sect."

His expression was so sad, like a giant puppy, that Yang Qinghui's annoyance dissipated.

"…I understand," she said. She didn't. Not at all.

"Thank you." Yue Qingyuan took a deep breath, and his expression slipped back to a calm and composed smile. He bowed his head. "Thank you for hosting this banquet, shimei. I look forward to the festivities."

Yang Qinghui frowned at Yue Qingyuan's back as he drifted away to speak to another guest. Without looking away, she murmured,

"Hey, System, what's my affection level with Yue Qingyuan?"

"Yue Qingyuan affection level: 500 points."

Yang Qinghui's head snapped around to stare at the System. "FIVE HUNDRED?!"

CLANG!

She had no time to dwell – Madam Meng's gong rang, echoing across the courtyard and catching everyone's attention.

"If everyone will please take their seats, the meal is about to be served," Madam Meng announced.

Taking a deep breath and forcing herself to calm down, Yang Qinghui strolled to the raised dais, where her table sat. Lu Ying already knelt on the cushion to her left, and couldn't contain a grin as Yang Qinghui sat beside her.

"You'd better go to bed early for the rest of the year," Yang Qinghui murmured under her breath. Lu Ying giggled.

Liu Qingge climbed the steps to the dais and offered Yang Qinghui a martial salute, brow furrowed. Yang Qinghui inclined her head. As Liu Qingge sat elegantly on the cushion to her right, Yang Qinghui leaned over and whispered, "I hope you're ready to taste defeat, Liu-shidi."

"Hmph. In your dreams, Xiao Qinghui." 

When everyone had taken their seats and the hubbub had quieted down, Yang Qinghui cleared her throat. It was a little nerve-wracking having everyone's eyes on her, but she channeled her inner Peak Lord and smiled widely at the gathered guests.

"Welcome, everyone. I'd like to thank you all for coming to this banquet. We have worked hard to prepare a delicious meal and to provide entertainment for your enjoyment tonight. After the meal, Liu Qingge and I – " she gestured widely at Liu Qingge, her long sleeve rippling – "will be partaking in a poetry contest to settle a wager between ourselves."

An excited buzz filled the courtyard, and Yang Qinghui raised a hand to quiet it. In the corner of the courtyard, she spotted Head Chef Xiong, waiting with a line of servants who carried covered trays. The crowd settled, and Yang Qinghui's grin was genuine as she announced,

"Let the banquet begin!"

The meal passed in a delicious whirl of delicacies – bean curd, beef noodle soup, scallops and roast vegetables, sea bass – all of which Yang Qinghui enthusiastically devoured. The dancers' ribbons rippled through the courtyard in beautiful patterns; acrobats leapt and flipped and dove, drawing gasps from the guests; the musicians had everyone tapping their feet or fingers to the beat; and cheerful laughter and chatter accompanied delighted exclamations at the exquisite dishes.

When the fourth dish was cleared away, Yang Qinghui leaned over and whispered to Liu Qingge, "Our competition is starting now."

"… Very well." Liu Qingge looked regretfully at the departing plates and bowls.

"Don't worry –" Yang Qinghui patted him on the shoulder – "there will be more food for us once I've won."

Liu Qingge glared at her as she stood up and called for everyone's attention. The dancers quietly left the stage, and servants set out two tables in their place, laden with various objects.

"I hope you're all enjoying the meal – " Cheers went up from every table. Yang Qinghui laughed and continued, "Now comes the event you've all been looking forward to: the poetry competition! I'll leave Madam Meng to explain the rules."

"Good luck, shizun!" Lu Ying called through a yawn.

Liu Qingge stood, and the two of them walked down from the dais to stand behind their respective tables. On each table was a bowl of red bayberries, a long blank scroll, and writing tools.

Madam Meng began explaining. "The rules of the competition are these: the participants take turns composing poems. In round one, the first person chooses the style of poem, and the second must copy that style. In round two, the second person goes first, and chooses the style of poem, which must be different than the previous one.

"If no mistakes are made, each participant eats one bayberry. If one makes a mistake, they cannot eat. There are eight bayberries in each bowl, and the winner is the one who finishes their berries first.

"And, finally, with each round, the incense stick will be shorter, so the participants will have less time to compose their poems."

Anticipatory murmurs rippled through the crowd. Yang Qinghui couldn't help the excited grin that spread over her face. Liu Qingge narrowed his eyes at her from across the courtyard.

"The first participant will be Peak Lord Liu," Madam Meng announced. "You have until this incense stick burns down to compose your first poem." She lit a stick of incense and placed it in a holder. "Your time begins now."