Chapter Seventy-Nine: Picking a Fight

“Father, I really love this dress!”

Miss Ying’er made no attempt to hide her fondness for the qipao. Unlike the jade sculpture gifted earlier by Master Huang, this was something she truly admired from the heart.

“The fabric feels so smooth and gentle to the touch, quite intriguing. I wonder what it’s made of?” With joy lighting up her face, Miss Ying’er’s tone towards Qin Zhen grew noticeably warmer.

“Hemp grass,” Qin Zhen replied without concealment.

“Hemp grass?” The answer took her by surprise.

Hemp grass had always been known for its roughness, the clothing made from it often chafing the skin. Only the poor would resort to such material for garments; people of their standing would always choose the more luxurious snow silkworm silk.

As a result, among the upper class, hemp grass was considered lowly, a material fit only for the impoverished.

“Qin Zhen, how dare you insult Miss Ying’er by presenting her with clothing made from hemp grass!” After a long silence, Master Huang finally seized his chance to interject. “How could a lady of such status wear something so base? Your intentions are truly questionable!”

“There is no such thing as noble or ignoble material; what is useful is good,” Qin Zhen retorted sharply. “They say the Huang family is famed for their exquisite silk, and yet, I have not seen you make anything as beautiful as this dress.”

“That’s because our family only crafts high-end goods—we would never stoop to using something as lowly as hemp grass!” Huang sneered. “People and things alike have their ranks. A person of great worth should never be clad in something beneath them.”

“There’s some truth to that,” the Lord of Coastal City nodded slightly.

The hierarchy of this feudal world was strict—nobles mingled with nobles, commoners with commoners. The privileged could drape themselves in silks and brocades, while the masses wrapped themselves in coarse hemp. Such was the prevailing belief of this society, not something Qin Zhen could overturn in a day.

Rather than argue, Qin Zhen stepped back and turned to Miss Ying’er, “There’s something you may not know. This qipao is merely a prototype. Once I’ve acquired enough snow silkworm silk, I can craft a qipao from that material. I promise it will be even more stunning.”

“Really?!”

The regret Miss Ying’er had felt upon learning the dress was made from hemp grass immediately turned into delight. If such a beautiful garment could be made from something so plain, how breathtaking would it be if crafted from snow silkworm silk?

She hurriedly declared, “It’s settled then! Once you have the silk, you must make me the very first dress!”

“As you wish,” Qin Zhen promised.

Standing nearby, the Lord of Coastal City coughed awkwardly, suddenly feeling that his own clothes were little better than rags. If only Qin Zhen could make him a set—imagine the envy of his peers!

But as a city lord, he felt it beneath his dignity to ask outright.

Chen Kuai, ever perceptive, gave Qin Zhen a nudge. “Brother Qin, why not make a set for me as well?”

Immediately understanding the hint, Qin Zhen replied, “Of course! Not only for Master Chen, but I’d be honored to make a few pieces personally for the city lord as well—if you would allow it?”

“Father, your clothes are hideous! Let Qin Zhen make you some new ones!” Miss Ying’er pouted in mock disgust.

“Well, since my daughter insists, I’ll grant you this commission,” said the Lord, patting Qin Zhen’s shoulder encouragingly. “But remember, keep my attire dignified—not too flashy.”

“Understood, sir!”

Relief and elation flooded Qin Zhen’s heart. He knew that today, the reputation of this little fishing village had truly been established. With the city lord himself requesting garments, it wouldn’t be long before the fame of the village’s qipao spread throughout Jiangnan.

Though Huang kept a cordial smile, inwardly he was seething with jealousy. If Qin Zhen became famous, what would happen to the Huang family? Fabric was their lifeblood—how could they let an outsider encroach upon it? But at this moment, with Qin Zhen in the spotlight, Huang could think of no good way to suppress him.

Just then, the two scholars in green and white stepped forward again.

“Qin Zhen, to think you could compose such a fine verse—truly impressive! On this auspicious occasion, would you indulge us in a friendly contest of poetry, to settle our differences in the spirit of camaraderie?”

Looking for an opportunity to humble Qin Zhen, the earlier poem had given them just the excuse.

Qin Zhen, meanwhile, was pondering which cloth shop in the city would be best to approach.

The scholar in white pressed close. “And who might you be?” Qin Zhen asked indifferently.

“I am Nangong Yuan from Pi County,” the scholar responded proudly, as if announcing a name of great renown.

“Tang Xuan,” added the scholar in green.

“Never heard of you,” Qin Zhen shrugged. “Let me repeat: that poem was not mine. And I have no interest in a poetry contest—or in befriending you.”

“You’ve never heard of me?” Nangong Yuan stared in disbelief, as though looking at a barbarian.

Qin Zhen was genuinely perplexed—was Nangong Yuan such a famous name?

Chen Kuai whispered an explanation: “The Nangong family is quite prestigious among the literati of Jiangnan. Nangong Yuan here is considered a leading light, even nicknamed the ‘Little Immortal of Poetry.’ Tang Xuan, on the other hand, is a newly minted scholar from this year’s imperial examinations.”

Qin Zhen’s expression remained unchanged, but inwardly he was taken aback—by Nangong Yuan’s brazen self-praise. Little Immortal of Poetry? How dare he compare himself to Li Bai? The arrogance!

Qin Zhen was about to refuse when the Lord of Coastal City stroked his beard and smiled. “With so many scholars gathered here at Baiyang Pavilion, a contest of wit between talents would make for a most elegant affair!”

As a scholar himself, the city lord was delighted by the prospect. He too was curious; after all, the line “A waterfall plunges three thousand feet, as if the Milky Way fell from heaven” was so extraordinary, and no one named Li Bai appeared in the records. It was quite likely the poem was Qin Zhen’s own work—but could someone so young really have written such bold and ethereal verses?

He wanted to see for himself just how learned Qin Zhen truly was.

Before Qin Zhen could reply, Huang seized the moment. “Qin Zhen, do you look down on these two scholars?”

Tang Xuan’s expression darkened. “Qin Zhen, such excessive modesty is rather disrespectful.”

Qin Zhen felt nothing but amusement. Why subject himself to this for no reason?

“Very well, then. Set whatever challenge you like—I’ll accept it,” he said, his tone weary, as if urging them to make it quick.

This arrogance was too much for Nangong Yuan, Tang Xuan, and the assembled scholars to bear.

Tang Xuan, barely restraining his anger, declared, “Since today is Miss Ying’er’s birthday, let us make her our theme. Each of us shall compose a poem in her honor, and present it to the company for their enjoyment. What say you?”