Unintentional Surprise (GL) - Chapter 3

“Dinglan, my dear ancestor! You finally caught up with the group! You disappeared halfway through the journey, and we were all so worried…” Dongqing, true to her noisy and blustering nature, grabbed hold of Wen Dinglan the moment she arrived at the side hall’s guest room and began to complain.

Normally, Wen Dinglan would have shot back a few witty remarks to lighten the mood.

But today, she couldn’t summon the heart for any banter.

Her mind was consumed with thoughts of the poisoned wine poured from that jade ewer.

Dongqing, oblivious to Wen Dinglan’s unusual demeanor, continued to chatter on, “We’re at the Prime Minister’s residence, you know—I couldn’t exactly go around saying you’d gotten lost. I could only have everyone wait in silence. Where on earth did you go…”

But Wen Dinglan’s answer was completely unexpected and utterly shocking: “Dongqing, we’re changing the performance tonight.”

“What?” Dongqing was stunned by the abrupt declaration.

When she regained her senses and saw that Wen Dinglan’s expression was no joke, she quickly pressed, “Change the performance? To what? Do you even realize how long we’ve been rehearsing the original piece, The Astonishing Swan Dance? You can’t just change it on a whim!”

Wen Dinglan had made up her mind, her tone brooking no argument: “We’re switching to Ambush from Ten Sides.”

“Don’t scare me—what happened?” Dongqing finally sensed something was seriously wrong. Wen Dinglan was not the type to be erratic or indecisive.

“Trust me, and nothing will go wrong—it’ll be fine…” Wen Dinglan didn’t realize it herself, but the pressure she was putting on the instrument strings was excessive.

The tight pull cut into her fingertips, leaving red marks of varying depth across her skin.

Night fell like drifting frost, and the banquet hall brimmed with the glow of spring.

A beautiful scene hid deadly intent, and a clever plan unfolded with a change of melody to save a life.

“Musicians of Fuxian Linyin Pavilion. Wen Dinglan.” A servant hurried over, announcing it was their turn to perform.

In the end, Dongqing agreed to Wen Dinglan’s decision and informed the rest of the troupe about the sudden change of program.

Though surprised, the others respected the decision of their lead musician and lead dancer.

Fortunately, they were all top-tier performers. Despite the abrupt switch, they weren’t afraid to adapt on the spot.

This time, Wen Dinglan led at the front of the group, while Dongqing stayed at the rear to watch over things.

They followed the servant through winding corridors and passageways. Wen Dinglan had no mind to memorize whether they turned left or right—what mattered was they eventually arrived at the main hall doors.

“Go on in. The lords are all waiting,” the servant urged.

Wen Dinglan hadn’t been feeling anxious, but now, with danger looming ahead, a wave of tension swelled in her chest.

She pushed open the grand doors of the hall. Her poised and delicate face lifted gracefully toward the dazzling lights within, as if she knew nothing of the looming threat, and smiled with composed elegance.

The guests were spellbound by Wen Dinglan’s breathtaking entrance; many stared, dazed and captivated.

She walked slowly into the hall, deliberately casting flirtatious glances at the guests seated on either side.

But those charming glances were a careful disguise—what she was actually doing was searching for a wine ewer that had been poisoned.

She scanned the room thoroughly, but saw no sign of any wine vessels. She surmised that drinks had not yet been served.

Her anxious heart could not settle.

Refocusing her attention, she took note of the key figures in the hall:

At the central seat of honor sat the current Prime Minister, Che Zhenfu—a lean, shrewd elder with a black beard and a calculating look.

To his left, at the head of the side table, lounged his treasured grandson, Che Kuiyuan, slumped half over the table with a slouching, careless demeanor.

And at the head of the right side?

Wen Dinglan glanced that way and was nearly blinded by the brilliance of red.

That man wore an eye-catching bright red robe, his waist wrapped in a ceremonial black belt embroidered with imperial qilin patterns. His hair was combed impeccably under a courtly crown. A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth, and shallow dimples graced both cheeks.

As if sensing her gaze, the top scholar Jiang Shunyao turned his head to look back at her.

In that instant, a spark flared between them—

Their eyes met. A breathtaking encounter.