At this moment, the eldest princess approached, first bowing respectfully to the Empress and then glancing subtly yet curiously at Yuan Ruan.

She then took the second princess by the arm and smiled, saying, “You’re about to get married. These are all the most outstanding young men of Da Xia. I’m truly happy for you, second sister—you’ll soon be able to live freely and comfortably.”

The second princess gave a dry laugh. “Um… eldest sister, yes.”

The Empress cast a speechless glance at the eldest princess before turning her attention back to the young men standing straight before her. She spoke gently, “There’s no need for you all to feel too constrained. Today is simply a flower-viewing banquet.”

The system suddenly chuckled:

[Flower viewing? Well, it fits. These gentlemen are certainly as beautiful as flowers. I always knew Chu State plotted to attack Da Xia not just for the land, but also for the beauties here.]

Those who could hear the thoughts were rendered speechless: …

Yuan Ruan couldn’t help but laugh at the system’s quip. [Haha, true. Each one is uniquely handsome. But I have no idea who’s who. Amitabha, let’s hope I don’t confuse one for another later.]

Hearing this, the Empress paused. After some thought, she whispered a few instructions to her trusted maid.

The palace maid stepped forward and addressed the gentlemen, announcing that before showcasing their talents, they should briefly introduce themselves.

The gentlemen exchanged glances and naturally lined up, introducing themselves one by one from the left:

“I am Wu Buyu, from the capital, serving as a Hanlin academician.”

“I am Zhou Qian, from Huizhou, Deputy Supervisor of the Upper Forest Court.”

“I am Li Huai, from Yongcheng, serving with the Capital Guards as Commander.”

“I am Li Dongyang, from the capital…”

As Yuan Ruan listened, her expression became somewhat peculiar.

At that moment, the system remarked:

[Pfft, Ah Ruan, don’t they sound like KTV male hosts announcing their stage names?]

The others who could hear her thoughts: !!!

Though they didn’t know what “KTV” meant, they instantly grasped the idea of “stage names.”

A Hanlin scholar, introducing himself, froze mid-sentence, unable to continue.

From the bushes, a shoe was suddenly hurled at him, striking his back. He stiffened and then forced himself to continue: “I am Cheng Weining, from the capital, a Hanlin academician.”

The culprit in the bushes, the Marquis of Chengguo, retrieved his foot and muttered to those around him, “That foolish boy almost ruined everything.”

The Minister of Revenue, who sat nearby, covered his nose in disdain. “You sent both your sons to compete? Isn’t that inappropriate?” He refrained from mentioning the unsuitability of the marquis’s eldest, an illegitimate son.

The Marquis of Chengguo waved dismissively. “I originally intended only for my eldest son to participate, but the lady of the house made such a fuss that my kind-hearted eldest let that rascal tag along.”

The Minister of Revenue pursed his lips. He had seen favoritism, but nothing this blatant. Still, he couldn’t be bothered to meddle in others’ family affairs.

Unexpectedly, the Marquis of Chengguo continued, lowering his voice. “Frankly, I’m worried about the Little National Preceptor exposing… certain scandals about me. But my eldest son has an excellent character—talented, kind-hearted, and virtuous, though his illegitimate status holds him back.”

He sighed and added, “If the Little National Preceptor could highlight these strengths, I’d be willing to sacrifice my old face to plead for my son to inherit my title. What do you think of my plan, Minister of Revenue?”

The Minister of Revenue’s pupils dilated. He thought the plan was terrible and immediately turned away to avoid engaging further.

While the two elder officials chatted, the forty-plus gentlemen in the imperial garden completed their introductions.

Yuan Ruan was just about to tell the system, [“Let’s dig up some scandals!”], when the Empress’s maid clapped her hands, signaling for the gentlemen to return to their seats and perform their talents in sequence.

Surprised, Yuan Ruan thought: [I always imagined ancient matchmaking banquets involved mingling young men and women, playing games like pitch-pot or drinking contests to foster connections. But here, the only unmarried woman is the princess, and it’s all about showcasing the men’s talents. It’s like a harem selection process!]

The system quipped: [Indeed, the princess of Da Xia knows how to command respect.]

Those who heard her thoughts: …

The emperor looked wordlessly at the Empress, clearly saying: This is what happens when you copy the harem selection process for a matchmaker banquet. Now the Little National Preceptor is mocking you.

The Empress felt a bit awkward but inwardly dismissed it: Typical matchmaking banquets are inefficient. You might have to host several and still not find the right match for our daughter. Why not settle everything in one go? The rest of the time can be spent resting.

The gentlemen began performing in the order of their introductions.

First up was Wu Buyu, the Hanlin academician.

He wore a lamb-fat jade crown, a moon-white robe, and a white fox-fur cape. His delicate features, paired with his attire, exuded a cold and elegant charm.

After bowing politely, Wu Buyu spoke gently, “I’ve been reading at home recently. Inspired by the sight of plum blossoms falling in the snow outside my window, I composed a poem to express my thoughts.”

He then recited his poem.

Yuan Ruan’s literary knowledge of classical poetry was average, but judging by the enraptured expressions of the audience, the poem was undoubtedly impressive.

She couldn’t help but remark: [Starting off with a heavyweight talent! A sixth-rank official too—definitely worth investigating. Let’s dig up his scandal!]

The system eagerly replied: [On it! Let’s see… Oh, ha! This poem was ghostwritten!]

Everyone listening: !!!

What ghostwriter?

Yuan Ruan: [What? Plagiarizing poetry? That’s a character flaw. Absolutely unacceptable!”

Wu Buyu: …

As Wu Buyu continued reciting, his voice faltered, and he stumbled over his words. With a strained smile, he hastily completed the poem, bowed, and returned to his seat, looking utterly dejected.

Even though the audience didn’t fully understand the term “ghostwriter,” the context made the implication clear.

Opening the event with such a shocking scandal left the officials with sons participating feeling increasingly anxious.

Those uninvolved in the selection were barely able to contain their schadenfreude. If they weren’t worried about Yuan Ruan noticing, they would have openly gathered to enjoy the drama.

The system suggested: [Ah Ruan, there are too many suitors and scandals to cover them all. Let’s remove those who perform poorly.]

Yuan Ruan agreed: [Alright, let’s do that.]

The next suitor, Zhou Qian, could also hear thoughts. Though his mother had prepared a carefully curated melody for him to perform, witnessing Wu Buyu’s public embarrassment made him quickly switch to a simpler piece.

He deliberately chose an entry-level tune, one he played so nervously that even it sounded slightly off.

Everyone: …

Zhou Qian’s father’s face twitched as he silently fumed: You’ve embarrassed me enough without needing the Little National Preceptor to expose any scandals!

Yuan Ruan, unfamiliar with this world’s music, thought the performance was quite sophisticated. Coupled with Zhou Qian’s handsome appearance, she remarked: [“Not bad! He’s good-looking, and his music is pleasant. Let’s see his scandal for fun!”]

Zhou Qian accidentally hit a wrong note: !!!

I picked the simplest piece! Please don’t investigate me! Spare me!