Chapter 2 — The Tigress Who Craved Mantou

Will my dinner be docked once I return home? The more I pondered this, the more panic set in. Xie Hanyan observed my silence, the amusement in her eyes deepening.

"In truth, there is a way out of this. You need only admit that your horse was startled at that moment, and that you did not intentionally best me. I can help you plead your case to the Princess."

So that was the game. If I merely confessed, my winning strike would be invalidated. She would remain the virtuous, talented lady who pitied the weak and acted with magnanimity. I, meanwhile, would remain the laughingstock who had overreached, relying on dumb luck to stand out for a fleeting moment. I weighed the options. Suddenly, this seemed like an acceptable path. After all, I had never wanted to stand out in the first place. As long as the General's manor was not implicated and my evening meal remained secure, accepting a "startled horse" excuse seemed a small price to pay.

However, my gaze drifted to the white horse being led off the field. Its ears were drooping, and the groom was still inspecting its mouth. A sudden, sharp prick of annoyance flared within me. The horse had not been startled. No one had drugged it. By what right should the animal be forced to shoulder the blame for my competence? I lifted my head and offered Xie Hanyan the most sincere, radiant smile I could muster.

"Miss Xie, since you seem so certain that there are influential figures backing me, and that I have employed some illicit, unspeakable trickery, then pray, produce your evidence."

Xie Hanyan stiffened. Afraid she hadn't heard me clearly, I deliberately raised my voice. "Do not be afraid. Bring it forth and reprimand me harshly before this entire assembly. If I am truly at fault, I shall certainly accept the consequences."

The entire field fell silent. Pei Zhihang looked bewildered. The veneer of gentleness on Xie Hanyan’s face nearly shattered.

"Miss Lin, what are you saying? When did I ever claim to have evidence?"

"Was it not you who just said that if an investigation revealed I was backed by others, the fallout would be even greater? Surely you must know something, right? You should speak up."

Xie Hanyan’s lips trembled. "I was merely worried..."

"Worry must have a cause, must it not?" I stared directly at her. "If you know nothing at all, why would you declare to such a crowd that I have someone guiding me from the shadows?"

This time, it was her turn to be speechless. A ripple of reaction moved through the tea pavilion. Someone murmured in a low voice, "After all that talk, Miss Xie has no proof?"

"Young Master Pei has none, and Miss Xie has none either. So, was all that just hearsay meant to convict someone?"

"If that is the case, then Miss Lin has been truly wronged."

These whispers, faint at first, swelled rapidly. Pei Zhihang and his circle of aristocratic peers were naturally indignant and immediately countered.

"Does everyone not know what Lin Wandang is like on a daily basis? She could not possibly have won on her own."

"Miss Xie only meant well by her warning, so why must she be hounded like this?"

"An invalid suddenly performing with such spirit—is it not reason enough for suspicion?"

The argument grew increasingly heated. Finally, the Princess of Ning lost her patience. She set her teacup down, her voice not loud, yet it possessed a weight that commanded the entire field.

"If you cannot settle this dispute, then you shall compete again."

Having spoken, she turned her gaze toward me. "Do you dare?"

I was just about to nod when my stomach gave a loud, treacherous growl. "Before the match," I asked, "might I be allowed two steamed buns?" The entire field erupted into laughter, and even the Princess of Ning chuckled. "Give them to her."

By the end, I was only given half a bun, for my mother had arrived. As soon as she stepped off the carriage and spotted the bun in my hand, her vision nearly darkened.

"Lin Wandang!"

My hand trembled; the half-bun nearly tumbled to the dust. She scurried toward me, the ornate pins in her hair rattling with every step.

"Why are you consuming such coarse, wretched things again? How have I raised you? A lady of quality must be delicate and refined, so that others might look upon her and feel a sense of tenderness."

"I am hungry," I whispered.

"Endure it." She snatched the bun from my hand and tossed it to the maid behind her. "We shall return to the manor for bird's nest soup."

That bird's nest soup was so thin one could see their own reflection in it. Drinking a bowl was no different than licking the bottom of the vessel. I watched the bun being carried away with a heavy heart. My mother leaned into my ear and lowered her voice.

"Remember, with so many people watching, you must absolutely not show off again. You must appear fragile, helpless, and weak—you must soften the heart of the Princess of Ning."

I nodded. "Fragile, helpless, weak."

"And another thing..."

Before she could continue, Xie Hanyan approached with her entourage.

"Greetings, Madame."

My mother instantly donned a decorous smile. "Miss Xie."

Xie Hanyan looked at me, her expression brimming with faux-regret. "Everything just now was merely a misunderstanding, and I have caused Miss Lin to suffer such grievances. But as the rematch draws near, given Miss Lin’s delicate constitution, would it not be better to avoid pushing herself?"

Her words sounded like concern, but everyone nearby caught the subtext: If I refused to compete, it would be seen as a guilty conscience. If I competed and lost, it would prove that my previous victory was fraudulent. Naturally, my mother understood this too. Her expression shifted, yet she still insisted on maintaining the facade of my frailty.

"Dandan has been sickly since childhood. If it were not for your earnest recommendation, Miss Xie, she would never have dared to step onto the field."

Xie Hanyan smiled. "You are too modest, Madame. A daughter of a military house should surely possess some spirit."

My mother was rendered speechless by this retort. Standing to the side, dizzy with hunger, I remembered only my mother's earlier command: be weak, be helpless. And so, when the second match began, I selected the gentlest, most docile white horse, and requested a new mallet from Steward Van.