The banquet following the rehearsal flowed with soft music and flatteries. Shen Yue had become the center of attention, surrounded by admiring daughters and scheming mothers.
Shen Lian sipped her tea from the far end of the table, her expression mild. She let Shen Yue bask in the glow, watched the nobles' eyes light with calculation.
Everything was moving into place.
Then a servant rushed in, whispered something into Madam Xu's ear. Her face stiffened.
Shen Lian turned her head slightly. "Is something wrong, Stepmother?"
Madam Xu forced a smile. "The flower pavilion… One of the guests seems to have fallen ill."
Moments later, a young noble girl collapsed in full view of the court.
Gasps. Panic. Several mothers cried out, servants rushed forward. Her lips had gone blue.
Shen Lian stood slowly. "Was it the osmanthus cakes?" she asked, voice just loud enough.
Another girl nearby dropped hers immediately.
A steward bowed hurriedly. "I—I will investigate—"
"No need," Shen Lian said calmly. "If this is poison, it would be best not to let chaos spread. Quarantine the sweets. Lock the kitchen."
Whispers rippled through the garden.
Madam Xu stood frozen. Shen Yue looked pale.
Shen Lian's eyes swept the crowd. She could see who looked confused, who looked guilty, who looked intrigued.
It wasn't meant to kill. Just alarm.
But now, no one would forget this banquet.
And when suspicion bloomed, it would land on just the right hands.
She smiled into her tea.
Let the court taste fear. Let her sister taste fame—just a little too early, just enough to make the next misstep fatal.