Chapter Seventy-Four: Imperial Archery

On the day of the music evaluation, the event drew to a close amidst the murmurs and sighs of the crowd.

No matter how the matter was discussed, Jiang Li’s performance of the “Eighteen Songs of the Nomad Reed” became the talk of the capital. Doubts about her origins among the upper ranks were, for a time, much diminished. The skill she displayed on the zither led many to reevaluate the wager between Second Miss Jiang and the Meng family’s young lady; at the gambling houses, more and more people began to bet on Jiang Li’s victory.

These changes seeped in bit by bit, yet were all-encompassing. It seemed that, overnight, consensus had been reached: Jiang Li was in no way inferior to any other noblewoman of the capital.

Naturally, this was a welcome change for Jiang Li, though not so for everyone. To say nothing of the other students at Mingyi Hall whom Jiang Li had outshone, even Meng Hongjin—the other party to the wager—now found herself restless and uneasy.

At the Meng residence, Meng Youde had yet to return home, and Madam Meng sat in the hall, sighing repeatedly. Meng Hongjin had locked herself in her boudoir, flinging ink and paper in a fit of pique, her expression agitated, though if one looked closer, a thread of fear could be found beneath her irritation.

Unwittingly, things had reached such a pass. Even now, recalling it all, Meng Hongjin felt as if it were but a dream. She could not comprehend how something once so certain had shifted to its present state. Through the servants’ whispered gossip, she’d already heard that the gambling houses had begun to take bets on Jiang Li, which meant that, at least in the eyes of outsiders, she might actually lose to Jiang Li.

In truth, it was not only outsiders who thought so. Even Meng Hongjin herself had lost the confidence she once had. She realized now she’d been tricked by Jiang Li. The claims that Jiang Li knew nothing, was completely ignorant of the zither, were but lies spun to deceive her. Jiang Li must have planned from the start to make her a laughingstock, digging a pit and goading her into the trap. In truth, Jiang Li knew everything.

Yet the wager had been made; the whole city knew of it. To try to retract it now was far too late.

Her maid tried to comfort her. “Miss, you needn’t worry so. Tomorrow’s events are your strongest—horsemanship and archery. As long as you win in those, Miss Jiang can’t take first place.”

“If I’m not first, I’ve lost,” Meng Hongjin replied coldly. According to the wager, if Jiang Li was not last at Mingyi Hall, she would have to kneel and apologize. If Jiang Li did better than she, then she would have to kneel and apologize at the entrance to the National Academy. And if Jiang Li not only surpassed her, but took first place overall, she would have to remove her outer robe and apologize to Jiang Li at the National Academy gates!

Each condition more humiliating than the last. Now, with Jiang Li leading the first four categories, she was certainly not last—and better than Meng Hongjin herself. Even if Meng Hongjin took first in horsemanship and archery, at best Jiang Li would lose the top spot, but according to the wager, Meng Hongjin would still have to kneel and apologize at the Academy gates.

Meng Hongjin could not accept such a fate.

If she did not wish for her reputation to be utterly destroyed, she would have to find a reason to renege on the wager. But if she did that, wouldn’t she become the laughingstock of the capital?

She could not allow such a thing to happen!

Suddenly, a sinister thought crept back into Meng Hongjin’s mind.

On the archery grounds, blades and arrows have no eyes. There had been girls thrown from their horses during the examination before, though their injuries were not serious—just some fright, a few days of rest at home. But if Jiang Li’s luck was poor and she fell during the competition—never mind breaking her neck and dying, even breaking a leg and being crippled for life, or having her face slashed by a sharp stone—wouldn’t that be good as well? And as for archery, what if someone “accidentally” loosed an arrow and, amid the chaos, Jiang Li was wounded by someone else’s arrow? That wouldn’t be a bad thing either.

If that happened, Jiang Li would not be able to appear in public for some time, and no one would mention the wager again. If she was ruined, who would care about a wager?

The more she thought about it, the more excited Meng Hongjin became, as if she could already see Jiang Li suffering in agony, so much so that she couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Her skills in horsemanship and archery were exceptional—tampering with the outcome would be all too easy.

Her maid, seeing Meng Hongjin’s twisted smile, felt a chill of fear, lowering her head and not daring to look at her mistress again.

...

Much like Meng Hongjin, Jiang Youyao was also displeased with Jiang Li’s victory in the music evaluation.

In the Yaoguang Pavilion, the maids were kneeling all around. Third Miss Jiang was feeling out of sorts, and had seized upon some pretext to punish all the servants in the room.

When Ji Shuran entered, she saw Jiang Youyao overturn a celadon vase.

Shards scattered across the floor. Ji Shuran frowned, carefully stepped over them, and ordered a nearby maid to clean up. Only then did Jiang Youyao notice her mother’s arrival.

Ji Shuran said nothing, but merely looked at her. This gentle and beautiful woman, when angered, was still formidable. Jiang Youyao shrank back and called, “Mother.”

“What are you doing now?” Ji Shuran pressed her brow and sat on the couch, shaking her head. “If your father saw you like this, he’d be displeased again.”

“He hasn’t liked me for a long time,” Jiang Youyao bit her lip. “He’s been completely taken in by that little wretch Jiang Li—he listens to everything she says now!”

“How many times have I told you to mind your words and actions?” Ji Shuran said sternly. “If an outsider heard you speak like this, imagine the trouble.”

“I know, Mother. I’m only saying it in front of you.” Jiang Youyao was exasperated. “I’m just so angry! You saw it yourself—Jiang Li was clearly out to compete with me. I’ve always been skilled at music, but today she had to outdo me. Now the whole capital knows that Second Miss Jiang’s zither playing far surpasses mine—what am I to do?”

“Don’t worry—”

“Now it’s her music that outshines mine—who knows what she’ll surpass me in next? She just wants to use me as a stepping stone. Mother, you didn’t see it, but Young Lord Zhou kept looking at her today. That wretch—she’s still trying to seduce him, she won’t give up!” At this point, she was gnashing her teeth. If Jiang Li was present, one might suspect Jiang Youyao would tear her to pieces.

Ji Shuran was momentarily startled, and for once did not scold her daughter’s lack of manners. “Is what you said true?”

“It’s true,” Jiang Youyao said, aggrieved. “She wants to replace me, to reclaim her place as the legitimate daughter of our main branch. Mother, didn’t you say the legitimate daughter of the main branch is me? No one can take what’s mine, but now even my fiancé is going to be taken away by Jiang Li. How can I not care?”

Ji Shuran was shaken to her core. Jiang Youyao’s words—“No one can take what’s mine”—struck her deeply.

Looking again at her daughter’s truly heartbroken appearance, red-eyed and mournful, Ji Shuran’s heart softened and she sighed. “Nonsense. The Young Lord of Ningyuan Marquis won’t be taken away by anyone. Besides, the Zhou family already changed their engagement once—marriage is no trifling matter, how could it be changed again and again? And with Jiang Li’s reputation, how could she compare to you? I’ve met the Marchioness of Ningyuan—they prefer you. If the engagement were changed again, what would become of our Jiang family’s standing? Your father would never allow it. Rest assured, no one can take Zhou Yanbang from you.”

“But he’s already been enchanted by Jiang Li...” Jiang Youyao was still unwilling.

“She’s not worthy of even a strand of your hair. You’re overthinking it.” Ji Shuran smiled. “If he truly cared for Jiang Li, would he have ignored her for eight years? Never mentioning her, never showing any interest—does that sound like a man in love?”

This comforted Jiang Youyao somewhat.

But in her heart, Ji Shuran was pondering. She had said these things only to soothe her daughter, but if what Jiang Youyao said was true—if Zhou Yanbang really was drawn to Jiang Li—then she needed to be vigilant. Though it was common for men to take several wives, the thought of Zhou Yanbang marrying her daughter while harboring feelings for Jiang Li was unbearable.

“But you’re right about one thing—Jiang Li cannot be allowed to stay.” Ji Shuran said, “At first, I thought if she were obedient, we could use her in the future. But as things stand, she’s already caused enough trouble since her return. If she stays, she’ll be a disaster.”

“Mother, will you deal with her?” Jiang Youyao’s eyes lit up.

“As I said,” Ji Shuran smiled, smoothing her daughter’s hair. “Jiang Li’s ostentation only invites resentment. Don’t worry—her rising fame has already made enemies for her. There are those who want her gone even more than we do. Watch what happens at tomorrow’s archery competition.”

“Someone else wants to deal with her?” Jiang Youyao asked, puzzled.

“Remember this,” Ji Shuran replied, not answering directly. “The best way is not to bloody your own hands—sit back and watch the tigers fight.”

Jiang Youyao nodded, half-understanding.

...

At the Jiang residence, while Jiang Youyao was dissatisfied, the atmosphere in Fangfei Court remained cheerful.

Jiang Jingrui had become a regular visitor, and even Bai Xue knew he preferred sweet tea, generously ladling honey into his cup.

“Honestly, Uncle and Aunt really are unfair,” Jiang Jingrui said. “You took first in music and didn’t even get a congratulatory gift. Every year when Jiang Youyao takes first, she gets all sorts of rewards.” He scrutinized Jiang Li. “Aren’t you both their daughters? Why such a difference? Or... are you perhaps not really a Jiang?”

His words were so tactless, as if he’d come just to twist the knife. Tong’er was nearly provoked to an outburst; even Bai Xue frowned.

Jiang Li looked at him quietly and said, “Perhaps.”

“Huh?” Jiang Jingrui was surprised. “You’re not even angry?”

“There’s nothing to be angry about.” After all, she truly wasn’t a Jiang by blood.

“You’ve got real self-control.” Jiang Jingrui shrugged, then suddenly burst into laughter. “Just thinking about Jiang Youyao’s face today makes me laugh—”

Jiang Li suspected Jiang Youyao must have wronged Jiang Jingrui deeply for him to wish her ill with such persistence.

“But back to the point—what are you planning for tomorrow?” he asked. “Tomorrow’s the archery competition, and you—” he sized up Jiang Li and shook his head. “Surely you can’t win that too?”

Though he was surprised Jiang Li had bested Jiang Youyao at music, it was not beyond belief. Jiang Jingrui himself was ignorant of the zither and had no idea what it meant to play the “Eighteen Songs of the Nomad Reed” so flawlessly. But he had competed in riding and archery with friends, and knowing how difficult it was, he had come to caution Jiang Li.

“When you get on the horse, just ride a little, pretend you can’t do it, and give up. Or don’t try to compete. I’ve seen the girls at Mingyi Hall—many just walk their horses to the finish, never even running. It’s fine. You girls shouldn’t push yourselves too hard—keeping safe is most important. That arena is huge; if you were to fall or get hurt, it wouldn’t be worth it.”

Jiang Li could tell his advice was well-intentioned, and thought to herself that he and Xue Zhao were quite different.

If it were Xue Zhao, he’d surely say: “If you’re going to compete, you’d better learn properly. If you fall and get hurt, that’s serious, so you must practice riding and archery until you can handle anything. Why shouldn’t girls push themselves? Girls must strive too!”

Jiang Li couldn’t help but smile.

“What are you laughing at?” Jiang Jingrui asked, puzzled. “Was what I said funny? Did you even listen? Jiang Li, I’m only giving you this advice because we’re family. If you’re stubborn and get hurt, don’t come crying to me.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Jiang Li said.

“You—!” Jiang Jingrui flung his sleeve and left in a huff, but halfway out the door, he stopped and said, “We have a riding instructor in the residence. If you want to see him, just go. I’ve already told him. At least make sure you can stay on the horse.” With these words, he finally left for good.

...

“Miss,” Tong’er said worriedly, “is the archery really that dangerous? Maybe you shouldn’t go.”

She had spent eight years with Jiang Li at the nunnery and knew Jiang Li had never trained in horsemanship or archery. She hadn’t learned music, arithmetic, or etiquette either, but those weren’t dangerous. This, however, was another matter.

“It’s fine,” Jiang Li said. “I have my own plans.” She had a faint suspicion as to why Ji Shuran had acted so differently towards her the day before. Since blades and arrows have no eyes on the field, danger could strike at any moment—and if it did, it would only be an “accident.”

Such “accidents” could happen at any time.

But she was not afraid. She was more than capable of handling whatever came.

That was her confidence.

...

To the west of the capital, the Duke Su’s residence was unusually quiet.

The Duke Su preferred dazzling, ornate things, so his mansion was lavishly decorated, exquisitely maintained. In front of the gates flowed the Anding River, its banks lined with beautiful pavilions, but none could compare to the striking vermillion main house.

Today, there was none of the familiar sound of opera drifting from the estate; the silence was almost eerie.

The old general—Duke Su’s grandfather, Ji Dachuan—was squatting in the yard, practicing with his swords. The courtyard was spacious, surrounded by fragrant flowers and rare plants—but Ji Dachuan’s blade sent petals and stems flying, scattering fragile beauty across the ground.

Watching from the eaves, several guards groaned inwardly. These Persian chrysanthemums had been bought at great cost from a sea merchant and carefully tended for months. Now, just as they were about to bloom, the old general was hacking them to pieces. The Duke would surely make them “understand” his displeasure later.

It was terrifying.

Ji Dachuan, though past sixty, was still powerfully built. White-haired and youthful-faced, he had once been a strikingly handsome man; even now, age had not diminished his good looks. Wrinkles lined his face, but his eyes sparkled with vigor. In the summer heat, he was bare-chested, a red sash tied around his wrist, wielding a sword in each hand, practicing a double-bladed form.

If this continued, all the chrysanthemums would soon be gone. One guard, who looked particularly honest, could bear it no longer and said, “General, it’s getting late. Please come eat.”

Ji Dachuan paused, sheathing his swords. “Where’s that rascal Ji Heng?”

“...The young master just returned home.”

“Didn’t he go to listen to someone play the zither today? Who played well?” Ji Dachuan’s voice boomed, as if Ji Heng had gone to a brothel to listen to music and should report back on which girl sang prettily.

The guard sighed helplessly at the ruined flowers.

Inside, Ji Heng lounged on a couch, idly playing with a fan.

Anyone who entered Ji Heng’s study would be surprised. Though the Duke was known for his love of luxury, his study was stark, even severe. Spacious and almost empty, it was furnished only with black and white pearwood, without a single extraneous decoration.

Yet, when one’s gaze fell on Ji Heng’s strikingly handsome face, even the empty room seemed to be filled.

Soft lamplight flickered. Another man sat with him.

Lu Ji, still dressed in blue, his goatee neatly trimmed, smiled and asked, “My lord, you attended the examination today. How was the music?”

“Utterly boring,” Ji Heng replied lazily.

“But tomorrow you must attend the archery as well,” Lu Ji said.

Ji Heng lifted his eyelids, seeming impatient.

Not only was he a judge of the music competition, he was also to judge the archery. Thus, he had to attend once more.

“Why does His Majesty want you as a judge?” Lu Ji wondered.

“Lu Ji, I brought you here not to answer your questions,” Ji Heng said.

Lu Ji stiffened, but Ji Heng continued nonchalantly, “Because the Emperor wants me to keep an eye on Prince Cheng.”

Prince Cheng? Lu Ji was taken aback, then understood.

Though Emperor Hongxiao now ruled, the crown prince was still young. Unless Prince Cheng was eliminated, he would remain a thorn in the Emperor’s side. But with Consort Liu backing him, and the Emperor preferring to appear benevolent, he had no excuse to act against Prince Cheng and could only let him be. Still, a ruler’s heart could not rest easy. Since Prince Cheng wished to observe the examinations, the Emperor had Ji Heng attend as well.

Yet Lu Ji couldn’t help glancing at his young master—surely the Emperor did not realize that Prince Cheng’s growing power was thanks to Ji Heng’s support.

Letting Ji Heng “keep an eye” on Prince Cheng? He was more likely to help strengthen him.

“Right Chancellor and Prince Cheng are close,” Ji Heng said offhandedly. “I think the Imperial Secretary will join them soon.”

“Shen Yuyong?” Lu Ji asked. “He and Princess Yongning seem...” Lu Ji couldn’t help but gasp at the intrigue. For a princess to be involved in such a scandal was shocking.

“It’s another good show, but I’ve seen too many—let them be.” Ji Heng opened his fan. Great peonies, painted in gold and crimson, blossomed luxuriously on its surface, shimmering in the lamplight.

“And tomorrow...?”

“Prince Cheng isn’t foolish enough to cause trouble at the examination. The Emperor is needlessly suspicious. I’ll be there, but it’s nothing. You, though—keep an eye on Ye Shijie.”

“What’s wrong with Ye Shijie?” Lu Ji asked. “He’s top of the National Academy now, about to enter officialdom—a man of promise.”

“Future prospects aside, he’s suddenly distancing himself from Li Lian,” Ji Heng said with a sly smile. “I’d like to know who warned him.”

Lu Ji fell silent.

...

That night Jiang Li slept deeply.

She even dreamed: she and Xue Zhao were riding through the woods, Xue Zhao’s quiver running low. He borrowed some arrows from her and her saddle bags were full of game.

Just as they were about to return, a tiger burst from the forest. Xue Zhao drew the beast away to protect her, and she could only watch his figure vanish into the distance.

When she awoke, she was drenched in sweat, startling Tong’er, who rushed to refresh the copper basin with ice, complaining, “The kitchen is stingy with ice for our courtyard...”

The kitchen was run by Ji Shuran’s people; such petty sabotage was common. Jiang Li paid it little mind, but the dream lingered—a faint sense of foreboding. They say departed loved ones come in dreams to deliver warnings. Was Xue Zhao trying to tell her something?

Was there danger today?

Jiang Li was not surprised. Since coming to the capital, there had been countless people who saw her as a thorn in their side. If she wished to achieve her goals, she would have to block many paths and become an obstacle to be removed.

Bai Xue brought over a new riding outfit. “Miss, your clothes are ready.”

Jiang Li glanced at the attire. “Good—leave them on the table.”

Since the archery required riding, attire was necessary. Jiang Li had none, so the old Madam had new ones made for all four daughters, each choosing their own fabric. Of course, Jiang Youyao’s was the finest.

Tong’er thought Jiang Li would struggle to dress herself for the first time, but she changed swiftly, needing no help at all. Tong’er tied her hair in a neat bundle, lending her an uncommon air of heroic spirit that drew praise from the maids.

Because the archery began early, Jiang Li rose early and joined the others in the main hall. She arrived just as the others did. Jiang Yuer and Jiang Youyao scrutinized her.

Jiang Youyao, in rosy pink riding attire, looked as lively and charming as ever—a typical capital girl. Jiang Yuer wore pale blue, gentle and sweet. Jiang Yuyan, in yellow, was left looking even more sallow, easily lost in a crowd.

Jiang Li’s riding habit was pale green. She loved that shade, and even her uniform reflected it. Her features were delicate and clear, perhaps not suited to such bold attire, but she wore it with an easy grace. She stood like a bamboo shoot after rain, sleeves crisp, her smile clear and fresh—a quiet vitality that even the old Madam could not help but admire.

Jiang Youyao was again put out, but recalling Ji Shuran’s words from the day before, she forced a smile, saying, “Second Sister, you look quite different today—very striking. I wonder if your archery will dazzle everyone again.”

Jiang Li smiled calmly. “You flatter me, Third Sister.”

Jiang Youyao hated Jiang Li’s smile—it was too sincere, and knowing her true nature, it made Jiang Youyao sick. She turned away, addressing Ji Shuran instead, “Mother, shall we go?”

Jiang Yuanbai lagged behind, pausing to tell Jiang Li, “If you’re unsure, don’t force yourself,” before departing.

Jiang Li was momentarily taken aback, but shook her head and followed them to the carriage.

Today, the capital was practically deserted—crowds thronged the examination grounds, twice as many as the day before, drawn by the excitement of the previous music contest.

Jiang Li alighted from the carriage and made her way to the staging area. Liu Xu greeted her cheerfully, “You seem in high spirits today—no problems, I take it?” There was a note of probing in her tone.

“More or less,” Jiang Li replied.

Liu Xu was satisfied and, spotting Meng Hongjin, remarked, “She’s in the last group today.” Meng Hongjin, clad in fiery red, stood out in the crowd. She glanced at Jiang Li, then quickly looked away.

Jiang Li was puzzled.

There were fewer snide remarks today—perhaps yesterday’s performance had silenced many. Even the Mingyi Hall students only whispered and dared not speak in front of her.

Liu Xu snorted quietly. “Now they know to be afraid.”

“What’s so scary about me?” Jiang Li asked, amused.

“You won’t be last at Mingyi Hall now. There’s no way you can lose your bet with Meng Hongjin. Do you know how many people got drunk in the taverns last night? All because they lost their fortunes betting on Meng Hongjin. Even the Meng family lost a fortune. If not for my father forbidding me from gambling, I’d have bet on you too—who knows how much I could’ve won!”

“I’m not a gambling chip,” Jiang Li said, laughing.

“All joking aside, take it easy today,” Liu Xu said seriously. “Archery is Meng Hongjin’s forte. If you can’t beat her, don’t push yourself. It’s not worth getting hurt. You’ve already won—don’t sweat the small stuff.”

She wasn’t the first to offer such advice, and Jiang Li thanked her sincerely.

This year, the archery and horsemanship were combined and divided into five groups of six by random draw.

The drawing went smoothly. Jiang Li handed her stick to the attendant. Liu Xu checked hers. “I’m in the second group, you’re in the fifth. We won’t compete together,” she said, a little disappointed.

Jiang Li didn’t mind. From the other side, someone called, “Hongjin, you’re in the last group!”

So she and Meng Hongjin were in the same group—truly, fate’s sense of humor. Just as she thought this, Jiang Youyao approached, “Second Sister, you’re in the fifth group as well—so are Fifth Sister and I.”

Jiang Li almost groaned inwardly. Of all the groupings, she had ended up with Meng Hongjin, Jiang Youyao, and Jiang Yuer—three who saw her as a thorn in their sides. With the remaining two, that made a group of six, three of whom openly disliked her. It would be a wonder if she didn’t face trouble.

Liu Xu came to the same realization, her face clouding.

At that moment, the crowd stirred. Liu Xu turned, “The judges are here.”

Today there were only three judges: a young officer in armor, about twenty-seven or eight, tall and imposing—Kong Wei, called Kong Sixth, Captain of the Light Cavalry. Then there was Zheng Huchen, former martial champion and now commander of the cavalry, about the same age as Jiang Yuanbai, dark-skinned, and powerfully built.

Both were obviously warriors—just standing there, they inspired awe. But the third judge was a surprise: dressed in red, waving a golden fan, with a gentle smile and striking features, Duke Su, Ji Heng, stood among them. Far from being overshadowed by the other two, he made them look like his bodyguards.

Yet he was entirely out of place here.

Jiang Li was puzzled. What was Ji Heng doing here? He had judged the music yesterday—was he to preside today as well?

She was not alone in her confusion. In the viewing stands, Prince Cheng frowned, “What does my brother mean by sending Duke Su here again?”

Prince Cheng was wary of Ji Heng; everyone knew the Emperor trusted him most. Prince Cheng had tried to win him over, but Ji Heng was immune to both carrot and stick, and after several rebuffs, Prince Cheng had learned to keep his distance—though he never stopped watching him, lest he be undone by Ji Heng’s machinations.

Princess Yongning made no reply, her thoughts on Shen Yuyong. Yesterday, after the music contest, they had arranged to meet, but Shen Yuyong had made excuses. She could see he was avoiding her, troubled by memories of the late Xue Fangfei. This angered her all the more—was she, a living princess, not even a match for the dead? She must marry him quickly; if he intended to mourn Xue Fangfei for three years, she could not wait that long.

After the examination, she would speak to her mother, Consort Liu, about it.

Meanwhile, Jiang Li stared at her slip of paper.

Six in her group: Meng Hongjin, Jiang Yuer, Jiang Youyao, and two Mingyi Hall ladies—Nie Xiaoshuang and Zhu Xiner.

Both were pampered daughters of noble families, with tempers to match. They were much closer to Jiang Youyao than to Jiang Li. But that was to be expected—the capital’s young ladies generally preferred Jiang Youyao to her.

To be placed in the last group... Jiang Li contemplated this.

No one noticed the quick, triumphant, and resentful glance Meng Hongjin shot her from the corner. Her expression twisted, she gripped her stick tightly.

Heaven itself was helping her—she and Jiang Li, plus Jiang Youyao and Jiang Yuer, all in one group. It would be child’s play to make Jiang Li suffer.

Her palms trembled. It was her first time doing such a thing, and though she was afraid, her resolve was firm. If she did nothing, tomorrow she would have to kneel and apologize to Jiang Li before the assembled scholars. Her reputation would be ruined!

It was a fight to the death—a contest more brutal than any at Mingyi Hall. And she was determined to be the victor.

The examination began.

The arena was vast; each group of five mounted and set off together. It wasn’t just a race—skill in controlling the horse was key. Near the finish, a row of targets awaited; each rider’s arrows were marked. The results depended on the shots.

Riding at speed and shooting from horseback was difficult; even hitting the target at all was considered an achievement.

The first group began.

Jiang Li watched carefully. Thanks to her former friendship with Xiao Deyin, she knew something of the rules, but was not familiar with the details. Now, as a participant, she studied everything closely.

She didn’t spot Xiao Deyin today, but that was no surprise—she had no reason to attend the archery.

Jiang Yuyan and Liu Xu were in the second group. The first group’s riding was mediocre, their arrows flying wild—none hit the target. Yet the girls seemed satisfied just to have gotten through it.

After all, martial pursuits were not widely encouraged for women, and few had the stomach for hardship.

Jiang Li now had a sense of the standard at Mingyi Hall.

The second group was better; some really galloped, vying for the lead. Liu Xu was the best archer among them, her arrow landing at the edge of the target—not bad by these standards.

Afterwards, Liu Xu was still catching her breath, but excited. “This year, with riding and archery combined, it’s tough. I can’t imagine how cavalry soldiers do it—hitting the bull’s-eye from horseback, it’s not for ordinary people...”

“You were the best in your group,” Jiang Li congratulated her.

“I’ve never excelled at archery—today was just luck. I didn’t aim to do well.” Liu Xu turned serious. “But you—being in the same group as Meng Hongjin, everyone’s waiting to see you fall. Don’t rush.”

“I won’t.” Jiang Li smiled.

Liu Xu realized she’d never seen Jiang Li lose her cool—her temperament was always gentle and calm. Perhaps this contest meant little to her.

She felt reassured.

Jiang Li continued to watch the competition. Whether by chance or by grouping, the next two groups were better. Some girls even performed flashy maneuvers, their arrows clustering around the targets.

The contest grew more intense.

Soon, an hour passed. At last, it was the turn of the final group.

It was time for Jiang Li to enter the field.