While Zhou Qian was consumed with anxiety, the system quickly spilled a scandal:

[“Alright, let me see… Pfft. Zhou Qian is something else. He’s actually a skilled swordmaster who doesn’t know how to play the zither at all. His mother, however, heard that the princess favors gentlemen who play the zither, so she forced him to rigorously practice two pieces—one was a basic entry-level piece, which he’s playing now, and the other was an original composition his mother purchased… Pfft. But since he hadn’t mastered the purchased piece, he had no choice but to stick with the beginner’s tune.”]

Those who could hear the inner thoughts struggled to hold back their laughter: No wonder Zhou Qian, after seeing Wu Buyu’s scandal exposed, had been borrowing every tasseled sword he could find. Failing to get one, he was pushed onto the stage and resigned himself to playing the most basic zither tune.

As Zhou Qian plucked the strings, his ears burned red, and the melody carried an air of melancholy and resignation.

His father wore a pained expression, as though physically cringing: If I’d known, I wouldn’t have tried to cater to the princess’s preferences. Now, this is just utterly embarrassing.

Yet, Zhou Qian’s father quickly composed himself.

A rival official whispered mockingly, “So calm, are you?”

Zhou Qian’s father replied evenly, “I anticipated things might go awry before coming here. It’s fine. And don’t laugh—sooner or later, the Little National Preceptor will assess your sons too. I doubt all of them are perfect.”

The other officials fell silent, their scalps tingling as paranoia set in.

Just then, Yuan Ruan’s thoughts sounded again:

[Pfft. So the purchased zither piece didn’t help? Hmm, at least he’s slightly better than the guy reciting plagiarized poetry.]

Wu Buyu, who was being dragged into the conversation again, clenched his teeth in frustration: He’d just been unlucky to go first. But he dared not direct his anger at Yuan Ruan and could only glare furiously at Zhou Qian.

The system chimed in:

[True. It’s a pity, though. Zhou Qian is actually excellent at swordsmanship, but he chose to hide his strengths and showcase his weaknesses.]

Yuan Ruan yawned and wondered: [Really? Is he that good? Take another look at him. Double eyelids, foxy eyes, skin so pale it reflects light—does this look like someone skilled with a sword? Sigh. Two fakes in a row, neither very manly. I’m a bit disappointed with Da Xia’s new generation of men—they seem so superficial.]

The system replied: [Exactly! These men seem weak and effeminate—a case of yin flourishing and yang declining.]

Everyone : !!!

What?!

Hold on, today is just a special case! Normally, we’re brimming with masculinity. Please don’t lose faith in our country, Little National Preceptor!

The emperor, whose expression was already grim, grew even more furious upon hearing Yuan Ruan’s thoughts.

Standing abruptly, he glared at Zhou Qian, who was plucking the zither as if fluffing cotton, and declared, “Enough! Stop this! What are you playing at?

“A gentleman’s six arts are not limited to the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting—they also include riding and archery! Our Da Xia is surrounded by enemies on all sides; we must promote a martial spirit among the populace to survive. If all we do is indulge in poetry and painting, how can Da Xia endure?

“And as candidates for the role of royal consort, you must lead by example and become models for our nation. Guards!”

The captain of the palace guards stepped forward and saluted. “Your Majesty, I am here.”

The emperor commanded coldly, “Bring out weapons from the armory—swords, spears, and staves. Select ten elite guards and have them engage these gentlemen in three-on-three combat. Any man unable to withstand thirty moves will be dismissed, regardless of their rank or status.”

The officials hiding among the bushes and rockeries panicked.

Some were ready to jump out and object, but their peers quickly whispered two sentences that silenced them:

“Do you want the Little National Preceptor to lose faith in Da Xia?”

“If they can’t even last thirty moves, will the princess have to save them when danger arises?”

…

With the emperor’s command, the palace guards and the gentlemen quickly began choosing weapons, discarding cumbersome robes, and forming teams. In groups of six, they gathered on the flat ground of the imperial garden to face off.

The clanging of swords and spears rang out.

Staves whistled through the air, wielded with ferocity and vigor.

Some formed tight formations, engaging the palace elites in evenly matched battles. Others showcased individual prowess, treating every opponent as an enemy. One wielded twin staves so wildly that even his teammates were struck, exuding a lone-warrior aura of “one man guarding a pass against ten thousand foes.”

Of course, these exceptional cases were rare.

More often, the scholarly gentlemen resorted to absurd tactics. Faced with the elite guards, they kept their distance and relied on hit-and-run strategies. Some even tried to persuade their opponents with flowery words to forgo violence.

When those failed and they were forced into close combat, they resorted to desperate measures: pulling hair, tripping their opponents, and throwing elbows. It devolved into a chaotic scene, with strategies from the Thirty-Six Stratagems employed to hilarious effect. Despite the chaos, they maintained an air of elegance—smiling on the surface while scheming beneath. Truly, it was “elegance” at its finest!

Yuan Ruan nearly burst out laughing at their antics.

Even the system, while trying to identify standout suitors, couldn’t resist sneaking a peek at the comedians’ “scandals” for entertainment.

It wasn’t that the skilled fighters weren’t impressive, but the chaotic comedy was simply too eye-catching.

The emperor and officials initially felt humiliated, but seeing Yuan Ruan laugh so heartily, they chose to accept the situation.

At that moment, the system uncovered another comedic scandal:

[“Hahaha! Look at this one. That Hanlin academician secretly tried to bribe a palace guard, claiming he was a frail scholar and asking for leniency. The guard agreed, but… hahaha! The academician used his staff to perform a ‘thousand-year kill,’ knocking the guard out instantly. After his unexpected victory, he regretted wasting the bribe money, thinking it was unnecessary.”]

The scandal left everyone who could hear it stunned.

The Hanlin academician, never expecting to be exposed, stood awkwardly with his staff as those around him instinctively shielded their backsides.

In the bushes, the officials were on the verge of losing it.

Suppressing their laughter, one whispered, “This kid’s cunning would be perfect for the Ministry of Justice—ideal for interrogating criminals.”

The Marquis of Chengguo shook his head. “No, no, no! The Ministry of Rites could use such a flexible and resourceful talent for diplomatic missions.”

Their debate nearly escalated into an argument when someone interrupted, “Who is this Hanlin academician? Does anyone recognize him?”

The officials exchanged puzzled looks and shook their heads.

One speculated, “Marquis, isn’t your youngest son also a Hanlin academician? Could it be him?”

The Marquis waved dismissively. “Impossible. That boy is too timid to even speak up. My eldest, maybe—he’s also a Hanlin academician.”

Just then, Yuan Ruan’s thoughts surfaced:

[I can’t stop laughing. System, who is this severely underestimated genius? Is he handsome? If he is, let’s add him to the shortlist.]

The system replied: [“Alright, let me check. Hanlin academician—Cheng Weining.”]

The Marquis of Chengguo’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets: !!!

What? It really was his youngest son?!

Suddenly, the system issued a loud alert:

[Hmm? Ah! Ah Ruan! A national fortune mission has been triggered! This guy just activated a national fortune mission!]

Everyone: !!!

What?!

A national fortune mission?

Yuan Ruan perked up: [Tell me more!]

The system explained: [Side mission: Marry Cheng Weining to the second princess (Incomplete). Reward: +1 National Fortune Point. My goodness, the Marquis’s youngest son is extraordinary!”]

Everyone: !!!

How extraordinary must he be to increase the nation’s fortune just by marrying the princess?

The emperor and empress immediately focused on Cheng Weining.

The second princess blushed furiously.

Cheng Weining, equally flustered, remained silent. Beside him, his lean older brother draped an arm over his shoulder and smirked. “Lucky as ever, huh, little brother? Looks like Father was right—if I don’t fight for it, you’ll surpass me in everything.”

Cheng Weining hesitated before replying earnestly, “Brother, let’s compete fairly.”

A shadow flickered in Cheng Yian’s eyes. Fair competition? Who wants fair competition? His gaze at the second princess turned determined.

Yuan Ruan exclaimed: [What? Is this some kind of fated love?]

The system replied: [Let me see! Oh my… Cheng Weining is the protagonist of a forbidden romance story. So scandalous!]

Everyone: ???

What?!

What did you say? Forbidden romance?!