The Reborn Noble Girl is Hard to Find | Chapter 47: Turning the Tables
Chapter 47: Turning the Tables
Scanning the room briefly, Han Yan had already assessed everyone’s expressions. Maintaining her smile, the Emperor’s voice was calm and betrayed no emotion:
“Oh? Why not?”
Han Yan offered a faint smile, tilting her head with a touch of innocence, and replied, “I’m not sure where Miss Li heard such news. My zither skills were never formally taught by a master. My aptitude is mediocre at best, and I dare not embarrass myself by performing here. If I were to play today, my clumsy technique would surely be obvious to Your Majesty, whose wisdom discerns all.”
Her face turned red, and she lowered her head as if embarrassed. “With so many esteemed officials and ladies present, I truly feel ashamed.”
Han Yan’s natural adorableness, combined with her exquisitely charming attire, and her soft-spoken demeanor carried a childlike innocence. Amid these composed and calculating noble ladies, Han Yan appeared like a harmless, pure child, refreshingly genuine and effortlessly captivating.
The Emperor’s expression softened slightly. “Is that so?” He showed no intention of pressing further.
Li Jiaqi responded with a gentle smile:
“Perhaps there’s been some misunderstanding in the capital. However, given Miss Zhuang’s intelligence and dexterity, if not zither skills, surely she has other talents to share? Could you demonstrate one for us?”
With the conversation framed this way, what could Han Yan do? Refuse and admit she was completely unskilled, lacking any presentable talent? If so, she might as well forgo any prospects in the capital’s elite social circles.
This was an opportunity—a critical first step to victory. Though Han Yan had no interest in showcasing herself at a palace banquet, Li Jiaqi’s persistent goading left her no choice but to let her learn the hard way what it means to overreach and suffer the consequences.
From the men’s seating area, a man in red showed growing interest.
“So that’s the Fourth Miss of the Zhuang family? She doesn’t seem to act much like a proper lady. Bold—how amusing!”
Beside him, a handsome young man remained indifferent, glancing casually at the petite girl standing in the gilded hall. Calling her a girl might have been an overstatement; she looked more like a porcelain doll from a New Year’s painting. As he observed, a faint smile began to form on Fu Yunxi’s face.
If Helian Yu had noticed this change, he would have been shocked. The notorious “Ice Prince” smiling at a mere slip of a girl? Impossible!
“I have a feeling Miss Li is deliberately making things difficult for the little one,” Helian Yu remarked. His instincts as a nobleman made him naturally perceptive to such scheming.
Fu Yunxi raised an eyebrow but remained silent. Difficult? He suspected the question was who would make it harder for whom.
Hearing Li Jiaqi’s words, Han Yan’s sweet smile brightened.
“I’m clumsy by nature and lack talent. Since the goal is to bring some cheer to the banquet, I shall offer a small, humble performance to liven the mood.”
Her words stunned both Li Jiaqi and Zhuang Yushan, who exchanged incredulous looks. Could Han Yan possibly have a trick up her sleeve? But her injured right hand rendered her unable to play the zither. Was she planning to dance? Yet, after the County Princess Yun Ni’s earlier performance, even a flawless dance wouldn’t earn the Emperor’s favor for an outsider.
Meeting Zhuang Yushan’s skeptical gaze, Han Yan smiled subtly. Was Zhuang Yushan hoping she’d fail so she could step in? Ridiculous. In this lifetime, Han Yan would never let anyone steal her spotlight again.
The audience was equally puzzled about Han Yan’s intentions. Some gazes became increasingly intense, making her feel as if thorns pricked her back.
She didn’t need to guess. One of those gazes likely belonged to the Empress Dowager. Were any of the others from the Seventh Prince?
The Emperor asked, “What do you plan to perform?”
Han Yan tilted her head. “May I ask for paper, a brush, and some ink, Your Majesty?”
The Empress, taken aback, asked, “Are you going to write or paint?”
Han Yan nodded. “Yes.”
“Bring her the supplies!” The Emperor waved his hand, and palace maids quickly set up paper, brush, and ink before Han Yan.
White rice paper was spread out, and the fragrance of ink filled the air. Han Yan rested one hand behind her back and grasped the brush with the other, dipping it deeply into the ink.
The room stirred with excitement because they noticed that Han Yan was holding the brush in her left hand!
With a serene smile, Han Yan spoke, her voice clear and crisp like morning dew:
“Your Majesty, I injured my right hand at home recently, and it hasn’t healed yet. I cannot hold a brush with it. Therefore, I will write with my left hand today!”
Previously, the audience had been mostly curious. Now, they were astonished.
Writing with one’s left hand is challenging even for the average person. For an eleven- or twelve-year-old girl like Han Yan, who didn’t appear to be left-handed, how could she have thought of this?
Li Jiaqi was taken aback, retreating to her seat. Beside her, Zhuang Yushan whispered, “Boastful words. I hope she doesn’t embarrass herself.”
Li Jiaqi hesitated, looking into Han Yan’s confident eyes. Could she really fail?
Sensing her doubt, Zhuang Yushan reassured her, “Don’t worry. I’ve never heard of her excelling in calligraphy or painting. It’s likely just a desperate attempt to save face.” Relieved, Li Jiaqi relaxed.
However, Deng Chan grew worried. Han Yan’s calligraphy and painting were at best ordinary. To attempt it with her left hand—if it went poorly, not only would she embarrass herself, but the Emperor’s displeasure might follow.
Helian Yu rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Left-handed calligraphy? Interesting. The little girl is becoming more and more amusing.”
Fu Yunxi remained silent, his gaze resting lightly on the small figure at the table. His dark eyes grew deeper, like an unfathomable pool.
Han Yan ignored the thoughts of others and simply stared at the paper quietly. Just moments ago, the County Princess Yun Ni’s lively and graceful dance exuded fiery enthusiasm, while Li Jiaqi’s serene and delicate zither piece reflected stillness and restraint. Together, the performances had perfectly captured the contrasting temperaments of noble daughters. Adding a song or dance of her own would only disrupt this balance.
Thus, she chose another path entirely.
No one expected her to turn to calligraphy.
The Emperor observed her intently, curious. Han Yan, lifting her delicate wrist, dipped the brush heavily in ink, then suddenly closed her eyes.
The brush in her hand seemed to come alive, moving swiftly and elegantly. The strokes carried an air of vitality and confidence, spreading a rich ink fragrance through the hall. Though her eyes were closed, Han Yan stood straight and exuded an aura of insight, as if she could see through everything.
Her faint smile was dignified and composed. Her movements were quick and bold, and in no time, the once-blank paper was filled with bold strokes of ink. The audience couldn’t make out what she had written yet, but her poise and technique were unmistakable.
Even the most discerning of critics could tell—such skill required at least ten years of dedicated practice.
As the ink’s fragrance intensified, Han Yan swirled her brush again to fill the blank spaces. Her petite figure, brimming with energy, seemed radiant. Her flowing movements—light as drifting clouds and powerful as a dragon—captivated the entire hall.
Even the seasoned officials, steeped in decades of experience, saw in this young girl a wisdom that transcended her years. It was as if she stood apart from the world’s chaos, serene and unadorned, embodying a timeless grace.
