The three master calligraphers from Jixia Academy moved swiftly, picking up their carbon pencils and circling their choices before quickly folding their slips. Old Master Yan and Master Marcus Wynn hesitated a moment before marking their ballots.
Prince Terrence of Lyndaria waited until the three Jixia Academy judges had cast their ballots, then carefully circled his choice, folded the slip slowly, and dropped it into the bamboo tube. Only Ninth Royal Uncle remained.
"Ninth Royal Uncle, it's your turn." Prince Terrence reminded him with a smile when he saw Nolan sitting motionless.
"Circle Serena Feng's name for me." Ninth Royal Uncle leaned back, not intending to do it himself at all.
"Yes, sir." The eunuch behind Ninth Royal Uncle stepped forward, circled Serena Feng's name on his behalf, and—without bothering to fold the slip—dropped it straight into the bamboo tube.
Ninth Royal Uncle's choice wasn't secret at all; folding the slip made no difference.
"Is Ninth Royal Uncle blatantly playing favorites?" Prince Terrence raised an eyebrow, wondering what Nolan meant by anonymous judging—was he just trying to scare Su Wan?
Ninth Royal Uncle shouldn't be that childish.
"Playing favorites? How am I playing favorites? If choosing Serena Feng counts as favoritism, then what logic is that, Prince Terrence? Does only circling Su Wan's name count as impartial? If that's the case, Su Wan should just declare herself invincible and skip competing with Serena Feng altogether." Ninth Royal Uncle vented all his frustration from Serena Feng onto Prince Terrence and Su Wan.
Prince Terrence deserved it. As for Su Wan, she kind of deserved it too—but it was just her bad luck!
...Prince Terrence was left speechless by Ninth Royal Uncle's sharp retort. He realized he'd misspoken in the heat of the moment, and an awkward look flashed across his face. He tried to cover it up, saying, "Ninth Royal Uncle really isn't playing favorites. We all see how deeply you care for Miss Feng—of course, in your eyes, everything she does is good." The subtext, though, was still an accusation of favoritism.
"I've always believed in loving the house and its crow. What, Prince Terrence, do you have a problem with that?" Ninth Royal Uncle owned his bias outright, leaving Terrence at a loss for words.
Just then, Su Wan and Serena Feng stepped forward to open the seven judges' slips. Unsurprisingly, Serena Feng was the first to reveal Ninth Royal Uncle's ballot.
"Serena Feng." Serena read her own name aloud with a smile.
Ninth Royal Uncle never fights a battle he hasn't prepared for. With him standing so boldly on her side, Serena knew she was destined to win.
Su Wan reached into the bamboo tube and drew out a slip: "Su Wan."
Serena Feng smiled, then calmly drew the third slip and read, "Su Wan."
"Su Wan." Three slips in a row, all bearing her name—Su Wan's eyes flashed with secret delight.
The score was one to three, with three slips left in the tube. If just one more slip bore Su Wan's name, Serena Feng would lose. Yet for some reason, Serena found she simply couldn't feel nervous.
No matter how much she tried to pull her feelings away from Ninth Royal Uncle, she couldn't deny that she trusted him. So when she unfolded the slip and saw her own name, she wasn't surprised; she simply said, calm as ever, "Serena Feng."
Su Wan drew the sixth slip, silently praying it would bear her name—just one more vote for her and she would win.
Full of hope, Su Wan unfolded the slip—only to be disappointed.
"Serena Feng!" Su Wan's voice was edged with dissatisfaction, her smile fading to almost nothing. But that didn't change the fact: the slip she held bore Serena Feng's name.
Three to three—the final slip in the tube would decide the outcome. It was Serena Feng's turn to open the seventh ballot, but seeing Su Wan struggling to hide her nerves, Serena kindly asked, "Miss Su, would you like to open the last slip, or shall I?"
"I'll do it." Su Wan stepped forward and took out the final slip.
Why should her fate be announced by Serena Feng?
Thump, thump, thump... The moment Su Wan picked up the slip, her heart felt ready to leap out of her chest. She'd never been this nervous before.
Three rounds—qin, chess, calligraphy. She'd lost one and drawn one. If she lost this one too, Prince Damien would never forgive her. He'd already warned that if she ruined his plans, he'd send her to the Lord of Gold City in exchange for army funds.
Her fate rested in her hands, yet she couldn't bring herself to unfold the slip. Su Wan clutched the ballot so tightly her palms were slick with sweat; the paper, once crisp, was now limp and crumpled.
In contrast, Serena Feng seemed utterly unconcerned with the outcome. Seeing Su Wan struggle, she gently reminded, "Miss Su?"