As the autumn examinations approached, the capital grew increasingly lively.

This kind of liveliness was not simply due to the influx of examinees from various places but also because scholars had the habit of forming gatherings, holding poetry meetings, and throwing banquets. Every day, there would be several parties happening in various private estates or pavilions.

Yan Shian had a good reputation among the scholarly elite. He was courteous, tactful, knowledgeable, and well-versed in poetry. As long as he was present at a gathering, it was sure to shine a bit more brightly.

But that did not mean everyone genuinely liked him. Some just politely gave him face because of his reputation. Some were annoyed that he never made mistakes—how could a person be so flawless?

Even in the imperial court, Yan Shian’s name often came up. There was no shortage of praise, but naturally, there was also slander. After all, those standing too high always had detractors.

Yan Shian himself was aware of this, but he didn’t care much. He never sought perfection—he simply had his own standards and ways of doing things.

This day, there was a poetry gathering at Luming Pavilion. It was hosted by a young noble known for being generous and enthusiastic. He wasn’t particularly outstanding in talent, but his father was an important court official, and he enjoyed surrounding himself with literary talents.

Yan Shian arrived a bit late. When he entered, the host came forward personally to greet him. “Master Yan, we’ve been waiting for you. The gathering has already begun. Let me show you the way.”

Yan Shian smiled slightly. “Apologies for being late. I had to visit my teacher before coming.”

“No need to explain—your presence alone is an honor.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before heading in together. Once inside, many people turned to look at him.

Most of them were familiar faces. Some nodded in greeting, some smiled, and a few deliberately avoided eye contact.

Yan Shian was unfazed. He sat down in the spot the host had arranged for him—close to the center, but not so prominent as to attract too much attention.

Soon, the poetry topic was announced: “Autumn in the capital.”

Many began composing verses, dipping their brushes in ink with practiced grace.

Yan Shian picked up his brush and casually wrote a few lines, not showing off, but not holding back either.

Someone read it aloud:
“The fallen leaves cover the stone path cold,
The red walls echo with twilight’s song.
A thousand scholars chase distant dreams,
One ink-stained sleeve hides years long gone.”

There was a moment of silence before someone spoke. “A good verse, as expected of Master Yan.”

But before anyone else could respond, another person chuckled and said, “Master Yan is always the first to impress. It makes the rest of us hesitant to even pick up our brushes.”

His words seemed lighthearted, but the sarcasm was obvious.

The crowd quieted slightly. The host quickly smoothed things over with a joke, and the atmosphere recovered, but the subtle undercurrent remained.

Yan Shian didn’t seem to care. He merely poured himself a cup of tea and took a sip.

After the gathering ended, someone invited him to stay for a smaller, private banquet. He politely declined, citing other matters.

As he left Luming Pavilion, his steps were unhurried. Once outside, he saw someone waiting for him under the autumn sun.

It was Shi Buyu.

She was leaning lazily against a tree, a fan in her hand, her expression half-amused and half-bored. Upon seeing him, she waved.

“You’re done so soon?”

Yan Shian walked over and asked, “Why are you here?”

“I came to see if your poetry gathering had any beautiful women,” Shi Buyu replied nonchalantly.

He looked at her. “Did you?”

“Nope. Just a bunch of boring men pretending to be elegant.”

Yan Shian laughed quietly.

Shi Buyu approached and tilted her head. “Did someone cause trouble for you?”

“It’s nothing,” Yan Shian replied.

“You’re always brushing things off like that. If someone dares to act funny, I’ll deal with them for you,” she said, waving her fan with a threatening flourish.

Yan Shian looked at her and asked softly, “You really came because of me?”

She smirked. “Of course. Who else is worth my time?”

He looked at her for a moment, then said with a rare touch of warmth, “Thank you.”

She was taken aback, then pouted. “You’re not going to cry, are you?”

“No.”

“Good. If you did, I’d laugh at you.”

They walked away side by side under the golden autumn light, leaving behind the scholarly crowd, the false civility, and all the whispers and judgments.

Some things didn’t need to be said aloud.

Because they already understood each other.