Using a Trick, Even a Grain of Rice Can Shine

Serena Feng, with a mischievous thought, wondered: if she wore white tomorrow in deliberate defiance, would Wendy Su copy her and wear white too? She had to admit, white suited her well—especially a white lab coat.

Of course, that idea could only stay in her mind—never put into action. In the Eastlyn Empire, unless one was in mourning, wearing white was strictly taboo. To these people, white was an unlucky color, associated with funerals, and anyone dressed in mourning clothes was not supposed to go out in public.

You know that old saying: if you want to look pretty, wear mourning clothes. But mourning clothes meant white garments, and only women observing deep mourning would wear them. Such women rarely left home during the mourning period, and no one would invite them over, fearing bad luck.

Imagine attending a festive banquet, the host’s home full of joy, and you show up in white—wouldn’t that be intentionally spoiling their mood? Even overly plain clothes wouldn’t do; too plain wasn’t elegant, it was childish.

It’s the little details that decide whether you fit into a society. Serena paid close attention to these things. Her parents were gone, so no one would criticize her for wearing white, but except for the operating room, she would never wear white outside.

While Serena was idly wondering if she and Wendy would both show up in white, and whether people would start gossiping about trouble in Wendy’s family, the judges led by Ninth Royal Uncle Nolan Arden arrived.

No one else noticed, but Ninth Royal Uncle Nolan did—he caught the teasing glint and amusement in Serena’s eyes. He knew right away she was up to something mischievous; Serena always looked like this when plotting a prank, just like last night…

Thinking of last night, Nolan’s ears reddened uncontrollably.

Prince Terrence Valen arched his brow in surprise, glancing at Nolan, then looking around. Aside from Serena and Wendy wearing the same color, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

As for everyone else, of course they didn’t pay attention to such tiny details.

With the judges entering—Ninth Royal Uncle and the Crown Prince among them—Serena and Wendy had to follow tradition. Both women stood and bowed politely to the group.

"You may rise." Ninth Royal Uncle Nolan was from Eastlyn and held the highest status among the seven judges, so of course he sat in the center, with the most authority.

As soon as he sat down, Nolan signaled to the attendant behind him to begin. From his expression, it was clear he wanted to settle things quickly.

"The tables and chairs are ready. Ladies, please proceed," the attendant announced in a sharp, high-pitched voice.

Nolan sat in the center, radiating authority without anger. His icy face betrayed no emotion, but when his gaze swept over Serena, a subtle ripple flickered in his calm, dark eyes.

Serena and her young attendant carried nothing. What would she use to write? Did she not realize she was supposed to bring her own brush, ink, paper, and inkstone? Or was she planning to forfeit?

This was one of the contest’s unfair aspects—even if both women had equal skill, the quality of their tools would make a huge difference. It was obvious that writing with a fine brush, ink, and paper would give far better results.

Of course, so-called competitions seemed fair on the surface, but in reality, true fairness never existed. Serena understood this perfectly, so she didn’t care about the contest’s unevenness—she never planned to compete with Wendy on equal terms anyway.

After bowing to Nolan and the other judges, Serena and Wendy stood at their places. Wendy’s maid set out their calligraphy tools one by one, and as soon as they were displayed, the crowd burst into admiration.

"The Su family really went all out. If I’m not mistaken, that brush is the legendary Dragon-Tip Imperial Brush, once named by the previous dynasty. Only the Cui Clan could make it—its bristles never shed, it holds ink without dripping, and it was reserved for the royal household. After the dynasty fell and the Cui Clan vanished, these brushes disappeared too. Who would’ve thought the Su family still had such treasures?"

"That’s a Chengni inkstone—the ink it holds is thick and dark, and water won’t dissolve it."

"They’re even using ice-silk instead of paper. Ink on ice-silk doesn’t blur or bleed, and it won’t dissolve. It preserves better than regular paper."

...

The spectators chattered, each discussing Wendy’s impressive calligraphy setup. Among the judges, the three famed calligraphers from Jixia Academy said nothing, but their feverish gazes made it clear—they were deeply envious of Wendy’s tools.

This time, the Su family had pulled out all the stops. Just seeing these items on display proved they were a house of real heritage, not some nouveau riche upstart.

All the praise and envious looks couldn’t help but make Wendy proud, even though she tried to hide it. The things she’d brought weren’t something money could buy.

Even Old Master Yan, Mr. Yuanxi, and Crown Prince Terrence’s expressions changed when they saw the Dragon-Tip Brush. Only Ninth Royal Uncle Nolan remained cold and unimpressed, not even glancing at her tools, which left Wendy quite frustrated.

Suppressing her dissatisfaction, Wendy turned to Serena, determined to see what Serena could possibly produce.

After the crowd finished marveling, their eyes followed Wendy’s gaze to Serena across the table. No one expected Serena to have anything better than Wendy, but there was still a hint of anticipation.

But when they saw what Serena pulled from her sleeve, everyone was stunned into silence, unsure what to say.

Uh...

Were they seeing things? Serena actually brought that kind of thing to a calligraphy contest—did she not know what was being judged today?

It was one thing not to bring brush, ink, paper, and inkstone—but to bring something like that?

Not just the spectators—even the seven judges craned their necks, each wondering if they were seeing things, or if Serena had lost her mind.

Wendy’s hand paused as she ground ink, then she laughed—a perfectly poised, elegant laugh, but only she knew it was full of sarcasm and contempt.

Faced with all the confusion, contempt, mockery, and dismissive looks, Serena just smiled faintly, not bothered at all.

She’d never planned to compete with Wendy in brush calligraphy. Today, she was here to exploit a loophole. Whether she could win would depend on luck—and on how forcefully Ninth Royal Uncle backed her.

"Serena, if you didn’t bring your own brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, I can have someone fetch a set for you." Old Master Yan’s goatee twitched, and if not for his dignity, he’d have leaned forward like Mr. Yuanxi, eyes wide as saucers, losing all scholarly composure.

"Ahem, I have a pretty good set myself," Mr. Yuanxi added, straightening up as he came to his senses. He sighed inwardly—he and Serena really must have some fated connection. She was the only one who could make him lose his composure in public, and not just once.

"Thank you both for your kindness, but I’m fine with what I brought." Serena smiled calmly, pointing to the items on her table.

"Those things on the table? There’s not even a sheet of paper. Where do you plan to write—on the table, or on those grains of rice?" Mr. Yuanxi’s mouth twitched; he realized he really couldn’t figure Serena out.

First it was the stringless zither, now she’s brought rice and a pen with a tip finer than a needle. Couldn’t Serena just act normal for once?