Chapter 22: Turmoil at the Teahouse, Conviction Unchanged

…she heard a flurry of whispers rise around her, buzzing like gnats and flies, unsettling her heart and mind.

“Hey, have you heard? That Scholar Lin, they say, had someone write his essays for him!”

“Really? Is that true? Doesn’t seem like it. His essays flow so naturally, brimming with talent—ordinary people couldn’t compose such masterpieces.”

“Hush, keep your voice down! I heard he got in through the back door, slipped the examiners a hefty sum in silver!”

These rumors were like poisoned arrows, piercing Lin Shiya’s ears, sending ripples across the once tranquil lake of her heart.

She frowned slightly. This was not the first time she’d heard such slander; since she’d topped the metropolitan examination, similar rumors had never ceased.

She knew well that in this world, there would always be those who could not bear another’s success. Driven by envy, they would find any means to defame others.

She had always meant to disregard such talk, treating it as the barking of dogs. But lately, the voices had grown ever louder, more brazen, threatening to drown her in their filthy vortex.

At that moment, a middle-aged man in the attire of a tea master approached her, holding a teapot, his movements unhurried.

A false smile played across his lips, but his shifty eyes flickered with a venomous gleam, snake-like and repulsive.

“Young master, I’ve heard you’re the new Laureate, Scholar Lin? I’ve long admired your name!” Tea Master Zhao said with a mocking lilt, his tone tinged with sarcasm. “Truly, you are accomplished at a young age, but…” he deliberately drew out the word, his gaze inscrutable, “the capital is a place of hidden dragons and crouching tigers. The title of Laureate is not so easy to bear.”

Lin Shiya lifted her gaze, her eyes sharp as torches, meeting Zhao’s eyes with calm yet frosty composure. “Oh? What do you mean by that, Tea Master?”

Tea Master Zhao’s heart skipped a beat under her gaze, but he quickly masked his unease and continued, “I mean nothing ill, only a word of advice: ‘The tallest tree in the forest is the first to be felled; the one who stands out attracts the most arrows.’ Scholar Lin, you are so young to have reached such heights—it is bound to provoke envy. I suggest you keep a low profile in future, lest you invite unnecessary trouble.”

Though his words seemed full of concern, they were laced with threat and warning.

How could Lin Shiya fail to hear the menace beneath his words?

She set down her teacup, a cold smile tugging at her lips. “I appreciate your concern, Tea Master. But I have a clear conscience and am unafraid of slander. Should anyone seek to create trouble, I am ready to face them to the end!”

Tea Master Zhao’s expression froze; he had not anticipated Lin Shiya’s forthrightness.

He opened his mouth, as if to retort, but was silenced by the steel in Lin Shiya’s gaze.

“Tea Master, your tea is getting cold.” Lin Shiya’s tone was cool, a hint of warning in her words.

Suddenly, Lin Shiya rose, her posture straight as a pine, her clear eyes sweeping the teahouse. In a ringing voice, she declared, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am well aware of my own limitations; to have earned the title of Laureate is but a stroke of luck. Yet, every word I have written comes from my heart, born of sincerity, with not a hint of falsehood! If anyone doubts me, I await them at any time for a face-to-face debate to settle the truth!”

Her voice was crisp and powerful, the sound of metal striking stone, echoing with unshakable conviction.

The murmuring crowd fell gradually silent; many looked upon her with admiration—what courage, this young woman!

Tea Master Zhao’s face flushed and paled in turn; he had not expected Lin Shiya to so boldly refute the rumors before all.

He had meant to ruin her name, but instead had only helped her stand taller.

He forced an awkward smile, masking his embarrassment, and turned to leave.

Just then, a sharp, caustic voice rang out: “Oh, if it isn’t our great Scholar Lin! What’s this, performing in public now?”

All eyes turned. A young man dressed in fine brocade swaggered over, folding fan in hand.

It was Candidate Sun, whose jealousy burned so fiercely it distorted his features into a grotesque mask.

He strutted up to Lin Shiya, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Scholar Lin, you can stop putting on airs. Who doesn’t know your secrets? With your ability, you still dream of becoming the top scholar? That’s pure fantasy!”

Lin Shiya fixed him with a glacial stare, a scornful curve to her lips.

She spoke slowly, her voice as cutting as ice, “Young Master Sun, you—”

“What’s this? Touched a nerve, have I?” Candidate Sun cut her off with glee, believing he’d found her weak spot. “Take my advice and give up now, before you make a fool of yourself!”

Guard Qin quietly drew closer, his vigilant gaze scanning the room, poised to protect Lin Shiya should danger arise.

Lin Shiya met Sun’s provocations with utter disdain, seeing him as nothing more than a noisy clown.

Her smile was cold and proud, like winter plum blossoms, sharp as a blade, cutting straight to Sun’s self-esteem.

Without another glance, she turned away, her robe sleeves brushing softly as she left, her figure elegant and unbowed.

Sun’s rage flared at being so completely ignored; his face flushed, neck bulged, and he cursed after her, hopping in frustration like a cat with its tail stepped on. “You—stand still! Coward! You—” His angry sputtering only made his clownishness more apparent.

The onlookers whispered among themselves, some even covering their mouths to stifle laughter. Sun’s face burned with humiliation; he longed for the ground to swallow him whole.

All the while, Guard Qin followed Lin Shiya in silence, having witnessed everything.

He admired Lin Shiya’s calm and poise in the face of slander and provocation. In all his years serving his master, he had seen many a talented youth, but none with Lin Shiya’s composure and depth.

His respect for her deepened; he vowed silently to protect her to the utmost, to let no harm come her way.

Lin Shiya could sense the subtle shield of protection behind her, and a quiet warmth grew in her heart.

Though she knew that Guard Qin had been sent by Murong Fu to safeguard her, this silent guardianship brought her solace.

It was as if, amid endless darkness, a beacon shone to guide her path.

Buoyed by this indescribable warmth, her steps grew firmer.

She stepped out of the teahouse, sunlight pouring over her, casting her shadow long and straight—like a young shoot breaking through the earth, undaunted by storm, brimming with life.

She knew this was but the calm before the storm; true trials lay ahead.

But she felt no fear. She would rely on her own strength to shatter all doubt and rumor and ascend to the summit of power.

Without pause, she headed home, leaving only a faint word drifting back to Guard Qin’s ears: “Let’s go.”

Upon returning, Lin Shiya dismissed her attendants and entered her study alone.

The last rays of sunset slanted through the lattice window, bathing the writing desk in golden light.

She drew a deep breath, casting the day’s noise and vexation aside, her mind as still as a tranquil lake.

She unrolled her scrolls—where others found the text abstruse and dense, she saw lively notes, the music of knowledge.

She took up her brush, her hand moving with fluid grace, each character brimming with power and confidence.

In the days that followed, Lin Shiya immersed herself wholly in study. She neglected food and sleep, tireless and diligent.

She pored over the classics, meditated on the wisdom of the sages, and filled page after page with her insights and reflections.

She was like a devoted farmer, toiling in the fields of knowledge, sowing seeds of hope in anticipation of the harvest.

At night, when the world was silent, she bent over her desk, the occasional chirp of insects outside only deepening the stillness within.

The candlelight flickered, illuminating her focused face; her eyes shone bright, alight with intelligence.

Her writing flowed like a gentle stream, weaving together one brilliant essay after another.

It was as if she had entered a world apart, companioned only by the scent of books, surrounded by peace and contentment.

After several days, Lin Shiya’s mind reached an unprecedented clarity.

She felt her thoughts swifter, her reasoning sharper, her understanding of knowledge deeper than ever before.

She was certain that, in the upcoming palace examination, she would perform at her very best and claim the highest honor.

Just as Lin Shiya was preparing to rest, a maid brought her a letter.

There was no signature on the envelope, only a few words: “To Scholar Lin, Personal.”

Puzzled, Lin Shiya wondered who would write to her at such a time.

She opened the envelope, drew out the letter, and read it by candlelight.

Its contents made her heart clench, a chill rising from her feet to the crown of her head.

The letter read: “The palace examination is perilous. Be on your guard.”

Lin Shiya stared at the letter. Who was warning her from the shadows?

What did this portend?

Countless thoughts raced through her mind, as if an invisible net was closing in around her…

“Attend me,” Lin Shiya suddenly called out, her tone laced with a barely perceptible chill.