Qin Duel, Valuing the Enemy Tactically

A gentle breeze wafted through the air, sunlight blazing—perfect weather for an outing. Serena Feng was, in a sense, off on an excursion today, though her destination was far from ordinary: the Imperial Garden of Eastlyn.

Early that morning, the palace had dispatched guards to escort her and Wendy Summers. Luckily, Serena had prepared in advance—she rose before dawn and finished dressing early. When the eunuch sent to announce the imperial decree saw Serena, he was momentarily dazzled.

Miss Feng was absolutely the most stunning woman today. He didn’t know about her musical skill, but her sheer presence would surely overshadow Wendy Summers.

“Miss Feng, please…” Beauty is universally admired—even eunuchs, stripped of worldly desires, couldn’t help but want to curry favor with someone as breathtaking as Serena Feng.

“Thank you, sir.” Serena, as always, was generous with her tips, never hesitating to reward those due.

Money, to her, was just a tool—enough was enough. Though she liked wealth, she was never greedy; money was meant to be spent. Serena always spent freely, and her tips were nothing short of extravagant.

Where others might hand out a few taels of silver, she gave out tens at a time. For palace eunuchs, she went straight to hundred-tael banknotes.

With silver in hand—and dealing with such a pleasing beauty—the eunuch was eager to please. As Serena boarded the palace carriage, he half-jokingly reminded her, “Today, the Imperial Garden is packed with distinguished guests. The Emperor, Ninth Royal Uncle, the Crown Prince, Prince Rowan, the Empress, the Imperial Consort, and Lady Worthy are all present; the Third Prince of Southlyn and the Crown Prince of Lyndaria arrived early; and even the famed qin master, Master Marcus Wynn, is here, along with the Grand Preceptor, Grand Protector, and Grand Tutor as honored judges.”

He stressed the last four names, clearly signaling to Serena that only these four were qualified to judge the outcome.

“You’re right, sir. It’s truly a gathering of the elite.” Serena accepted the hint with a smile, took her qin case, and settled inside.

It seemed today would be a truly fair contest—Master Marcus Wynn’s presence meant it would come down to genuine musical skill.

You had to admit, Wendy Summers was a clever woman. She knew full well that in a test of true skill, Serena Feng couldn’t beat her.

Serena knew of Master Marcus Wynn. No one knew his real surname—some claimed he was descended from the Cui clan, others said he was of the former imperial house. Faced with questions, Master Marcus neither confirmed nor denied any of it.

There was endless speculation about Master Marcus Wynn’s origins, but it was all just rumor—nobody had any proof. Most believed the Cui clan story; if he were truly of the old imperial family, the four kingdoms’ emperors would have killed him long ago.

His mysterious identity didn’t stop the world from idolizing him. Master Marcus Wynn was strikingly handsome, gentle in manner, and played the qin beautifully.

His skill was praised by the emperors of all four kingdoms and the Nine City Lords as the greatest in the realm, yet he always claimed he was only second—someone else’s playing was a thousand times better, but he never said who.

Most people, hearing that Master Marcus Wynn would attend, would lose their composure—he was a true master, and playing in front of him took enormous courage and confidence.

Even someone as confident as Wendy Summers hesitated for a long time before agreeing to invite him as judge. She knew her skill couldn’t compare to Master Marcus Wynn’s, and worried he’d be brutally honest in his critique—so even if she beat Serena, she might lose face.

Of course, it could go either way—if Master Marcus Wynn praised Wendy’s artistry, her reputation would soar. As Serena said, until the result was out, anything was possible.

But none of that concerned Serena—she had no intention of embarrassing herself in public. As for playing the qin, it was just a passing cloud.

Kneeling, she seemed ordinary—but once she stood, Serena was transformed: mysterious, regal, coldly dazzling, impossible to look straight at. Deep black eyes and a slightly raised chin announced to all what it meant to be a queen.

The Imperial Noble Consort and Virtuous Consort managed to maintain composure, but the Empress could not. How could a mere 'commoner' like Serena outshine her, the Empress? Yet with so many watching, she could only grit her teeth in silent fury.

Black was the color of imperial dragon robes in the Former Dynasty; now the Four Kingdoms consider black gloomy and use bright yellow instead. But today, it was clear—nothing conveyed true nobility like black.

In terms of presence, Serena was the clear victor.

Serena’s powerful queenly aura was something Wendy’s little blue-flower elegance could never match. Wendy knew this, just like the Empress, and could only grit her teeth, desperately trying to stay calm.

Serena was doing it on purpose—being so flamboyant and high-profile just to shake Wendy’s composure and keep her from playing calmly.

Master Marcus Wynn and the three grand ministers, though seated in a corner, took in the entire scene. All four nodded appreciatively at Serena.

One moment, she was low-key and restrained; the next, dazzling and radiant—her ability to control her presence was unmatched. Even with decades more practice, Wendy couldn’t compare, and even the Empress fell short. They could release their aura, but not withdraw it at will.

Serena sensed the judges’ approving gaze, and before sitting, she nodded slightly to the four as a greeting. Maintaining a cold, proud demeanor, she sat holding her qin, perfectly still.

She was curious about what the famed Master Marcus Wynn looked like, but today she was committed to her aloof, regal style. Only by embracing understated luxury could she command respect and make her words believable.

Don’t underestimate her clothes. Though it seemed a simple black dress, it was anything but cheap. Vincent Su had said it took eighteen embroiderers three months to make.

The golden threads were drawn from melted gold—a single furnace yielded only two or three strands. The cost of this dress could feed an army of half a million for a month.

Though she was only borrowing it for the day, Serena felt the pressure—she couldn’t afford to replace it if damaged. She wasn’t poor, but not that rich either. In modern terms, she thought, she wasn’t wearing clothes but pure luxury and ostentation.

Ninth Royal Uncle Nolan nodded in satisfaction—only Former Dynasty attire could truly showcase Serena’s aura. The expense was worth it for this effect.

Unfortunately, today’s contest wasn’t about clothes or presence—it was about the qin.

Once Serena and Wendy were both seated, the Grand Tutor asked the Emperor if they could begin—the court was busy, and no one wanted to spend all morning on two young ladies.

With imperial permission, the Grand Tutor smiled at Serena and Wendy: "Miss Wendy, Miss Serena, which of you will start first?"

Wendy was about to insist Serena start, but Serena beat her to it: "Since one should respect the host, Miss Wendy, please."

"Guests follow the host’s arrangements; it should be Miss Serena who begins." Wendy glared at Serena—this woman was shameless, shutting down the conversation so decisively.

Serena shot her a provocative look: "What’s wrong? Miss Wendy isn’t afraid, is she? After all, qin, chess, calligraphy, and painting were all events you proposed."

Wendy knew Serena was goading her, but still took the bait: "You? Not in this lifetime."

Wendy rose with her qin, bowed to the Emperor and to Master Marcus Wynn, and walked to the performance platform.

A maid brought out her instrument. Wendy burned incense and washed her hands, calming her mind—she was determined to play in her most perfect state.

With Master Marcus Wynn present, Wendy had to give her best performance. She wanted Serena to see what true nobility was—noble status couldn’t be faked by a single gown.

Author’s Note: Qin and Han dynasty dragon robes were black—I personally love Huang Xiaoming’s black robe in ‘The Prince of Han’; it looks better than the yellow ones. Ahem…maybe I’m a little shameless today, leaving two cliffhangers! Go ahead, use your votes to roast me!