Chapter 14

The competition was announced to begin.

Since it was an amateur division, the format was relatively simple, divided into moving targets and stationary targets. The moving targets were worth twice as many points as the stationary ones; the maximum score for a moving target was ten points, while the stationary target was five points. Competitors could shoot at either.

Participants took turns shooting on horseback, each shooting three arrows per round. After three rounds, the cumulative scores determined the first, second, and third places.

Zhi Yi drew the second-to-last position to compete.

She weighed the bow in her hand, the unfamiliarity making her heart uneasy. She instinctively glanced toward Pei Huaijin’s direction.

Unfortunately, the canopy was surrounded by curtains that blocked her view. She could only see a vague silhouette of a woman leaning close to Pei Huaijin, seemingly whispering something. He did not reject the woman’s proximity.

She pressed her lips tightly, her mood subtly dampened.

Soon, the first eight groups had finished their turns. Zhi Yi glanced at the scoreboard beside her; the highest score was twenty-six points, achieved by two groups, meaning they had all chosen moving targets all three times.

Zhi Yi sat upright on her horse, exhaled deeply, and waved at the officials in the arena, signaling her choice to shoot at moving targets for all three rounds.

Being alone on horseback, a delicate sixteen-year-old young lady, her appearance alone caused a stir among the onlookers. Now, seeing her choose moving targets, the crowd erupted even more.

Zhi Yi had no time to heed others’ doubts or cheers. Her gaze briefly rested on the crescent-shaped bow hanging high by the sidelines. In that instant, she seemed to see her elder brother standing nearby, arms crossed holding a bow, smiling and saying, “Little Third, you’ve improved today.”

Her eyes suddenly tinged with moisture. She blinked rapidly to steady her emotions, tightened her grip on the reins, pressed firmly on the stirrups, and cracked her whip as she galloped forward.

It had been so long since she last rode freely that she nearly forgot the feeling of unrestrained freedom.

The wind roared past her ears; Zhi Yi’s heart soared, the gallop bringing endless relief and release. Everything around her blurred rapidly into the distance, as if all the long-held sorrows were being cast aside.

At this moment, she was no longer the confined concubine of the Pei manor’s inner quarters but the once most flamboyant and spoiled Zhi Yi of the capital — the admired third young lady of the Shen family, envied by countless maidens and desired by many suitors.

Her water-red skirt flowed like a blooming peony, her three thousand strands of black hair danced in the wind behind her. Sunlight played over her radiant face, and for a moment, the entire world seemed drained of color.

The once roaring crowd fell into complete silence — so quiet that one could hear a pin drop — all holding their breath as they watched the slender figure on horseback.

Pei Huaijin accepted the tea handed by Su An, took a slow sip, and unconsciously furrowed his brows. He said nothing, setting the cup down, his gaze leisurely fixed on the figure in the arena.

His thin eyelids drooped slightly, fingers tapping rhythmically on the table’s edge, concealing his thoughts.

Only the tight line of his lips betrayed a faint hint of something.

— The usually impassive Lord Pei, the young magistrate of the Dali Court, seemed displeased at this moment.

Zhi Yi stopped far in the arena, her slender back straight, one hand holding the bow, the other nocking an arrow, aiming carefully.

However, she had not handled a bow in a long time. Choosing the difficult moving target first, unsurprisingly her first arrow scored only six points.

Yet, she did not lose heart. She nocked another arrow, drew the bow, and aimed again.

With a “whoosh,” the arrow shot forward.

According to the prey’s trajectory and her aim, this arrow should have scored at least eight points.

But at the moment the arrow flew, the black horse beneath her suddenly reared and let out a long neigh, wildly bolting out of the arena.

Not only did her arrow miss the target completely, she was nearly thrown off the horse.

The crowd immediately stirred, gasping anxiously.

Zhi Yi frantically tightened the reins, her face pale.

Just as everyone thought the delicate young girl might give up, she steadied herself, bent down to stroke the horse’s mane, whispering something into its ear.

The previously snorting, agitated black horse suddenly calmed.

Zhi Yi patted its rump, and the horse obediently carried her back into the arena.

Others rode in pairs, but she was alone—a small figure with inexplicable strength.

The slender figure in a water-red skirt sat tall on the black horse, back straightened again, chin lifted slightly toward the sunlight, expression resolute, radiant and bold.

The arena quieted momentarily, then the audience erupted into vigorous applause.

Pei Huaijin’s gaze fixed on Zhi Yi’s face, his tapping fingers paused, veins bulging slightly. A swift wave of emotion flashed through his calm eyes.

The girl in the arena seemed to bloom with all the life force of a peony in full bloom.

For some reason, Pei Huaijin felt a strange sense of absurdity—after such perfect blossoming, perhaps everything would vanish into thin air.

He watched her, pressing his finger firmly against the thumb ring.

Lord Pei, calm and reserved, never bore unnecessary trappings; this thumb ring was worn as a mark of his identity as a wealthy merchant, Li Che.

Yet wearing it brought an odd discomfort, not painful or itchy, but a persistent unease, like a thorn in the side.

Quite vexing.

Since the age of fifteen, Pei Huaijin had learned to restrain and control himself. Especially after his promotion to young magistrate of the Dali Court two years ago, he was accustomed to keeping his emotions strictly within a manageable threshold, rarely swayed by feelings.

This was a basic requirement for the future head of the Pei family and a crucial official of the court.

His gaze remained steady on the arena as he idly rubbed the thumb ring before removing it.

***

On her third arrow, Zhi Yi finally found her rhythm and scored a perfect ten.

She held her head high, lips curling slightly—a proud little phoenix.

After the first round, she scored sixteen points, ranking seventh among ten participants.

In the second round, some chose conservative stationary targets, others chose moving targets to catch up.

Zhi Yi chose one stationary and two moving targets.

She scored the full five on the stationary target and eight points twice on moving targets. After two rounds, she tied for fourth place with two others at thirty-seven points.

First place stood at forty-eight points.

Zhi Yi glanced longingly at the crescent bow hanging high, a sense of loss filling her heart.

Even if she scored perfect tens on all moving targets in the third round, her total would be only sixty-seven points.

First place needed just twenty points in the third round to surpass her.

Yet, despite the slim chances, she was determined to fight to the end.

During the break between the second and third rounds, the two leading competitors—a man and a woman—rode up to her.

The woman looked at her arrogantly and snorted coldly:

“I advise you to give up. My brother is the best archer in all of Yongzhou; this bow is rightfully his.”

Hearing the word “brother,” Zhi Yi knew that bow clearly belonged to her elder brother—it was hers!

She snorted back coldly:

“Pride comes before a fall. Don’t be so sure of your first place now. When your brother shoots his third arrow, his wrist falters and the arrow tip trembles—clearly lacking endurance. Better have Yongzhou’s best archer practice more!”

“You—!” The woman was about to retort, but the man behind her pulled her away. She gritted her teeth and shot Zhi Yi a glare:

“We’ll see about that!”

After they left, Zhi Yi visited the groups ranked third and fourth, realizing these two were playing psychological warfare.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus, ready for the third round.

For the third round, Zhi Yi chose all three moving targets again.

Before shooting, she squeezed her cold palms and instinctively searched for Pei Huaijin’s figure behind her.

But no one was there beneath the canopy.

Her heart sank instantly. Before she could dwell on it, someone urged her forward.

Zhi Yi reminded herself to stay calm. With the previous rounds as a warm-up, she shot perfect tens on her first two arrows.

Unlike others who competed in pairs, she fought alone, causing the audience to hold their breath for her.

At the third and final, decisive arrow, the sun stood directly overhead.

Yongzhou’s weather was much hotter than the capital, and today’s bright, harsh sunlight made it hard to keep eyes open.

Perhaps because of the heat, the black horse beneath her grew restless, pawing the ground anxiously.

Zhi Yi wiped her palms and forehead with a handkerchief, gently soothing the horse, took a deep breath, drew the bow, and nocked an arrow.

Sweat trickled down her brow, landing softly on her long, dense lashes, trembling with her exertion.

At this moment, even the wind ceased; everything around blurred into nothingness. Zhi Yi’s eyes focused solely on the swiftly approaching wild deer and the red bullseye tied to it.

Her heart pounded fiercely as the moving target drew near.

Just as she released the arrow at the perfect moment, the black horse suddenly could no longer hold still, bucking violently and throwing her to the ground.

The crowd gasped in uproar.

Pain surged through her body, but she gritted her teeth, rolling over to keep her eyes fixed on the silver arrow.

Still affected by the fall, the feathered arrow veered off course, missing the bullseye.

Zhi Yi clenched her fingers into a fist, helplessness flooding her heart.

She looked up blankly at her elder brother’s crescent bow, tears welling uncontrollably.

The small girl curled up on the ground, her hair slightly disheveled. Blood stained her elbow, her thin shoulders shuddered, looking utterly pitiful.

From the canopy, Pei Huaijin withdrew his gaze from her, his jaw tensing sharply, knuckles white from gripping the bow.

After a moment of silence, he slowly raised the bow he had repeatedly lifted and set down.

The man’s broad shoulders stood firm, drawing the bow with steady, powerful posture. His sharp eyes fixed on the path of Zhi Yi’s arrow, veins bulging from the intense force in his arms.

The drawn bowstring grew taut, trembling slightly, strands of string rubbing together with soft creaks.

With the bowstring stretched to its limit, Pei Huaijin pressed his thin lips together, a storm raging in his deep, unfathomable eyes.

Suddenly, amid the crowd’s noise, Zhi Yi heard a faint “whoosh” — someone had shot an arrow — followed by a clear “thunk.”

She turned sharply toward her target.

The arrow, which should have only scored one point, was now firmly embedded at the nine-point mark.

Her eyes widened in disbelief; her blood raced wildly.

She turned again, staring fixedly at the man emerging from the canopy, her gaze sweeping over his right hand, shock written all over her face.

That arrow—was it Pei Huaijin’s? Had he shot to correct the trajectory of her errant arrow?

But he had sworn otherwise...

Strong, measured footsteps approached; Pei Huaijin’s expression remained unchanged.

Yet beneath his calm exterior, Zhi Yi sensed a profound weariness, as if his emotions had erupted to their limit and left him disillusioned.

She stared blankly at him, forgetting to react, her heartbeat thundering in her ears, eyes misted red.

The hem of his water-blue robe shifted as Pei Huaijin knelt down.

He glanced at her, gently supporting her elbow with one hand, and used a clean handkerchief to softly wipe the wound.

Zhi Yi’s lashes fluttered; for reasons unknown, tears flowed uncontrollably.

Pei Huaijin paused, his voice low and rough:

“Did I hurt you?”

Zhi Yi bit her lip and shook her head.

He said nothing, cleaning the blood from her elbow.

“All done,” he said, helping her to her feet. “Are your legs hurt? Can you walk?”

Zhi Yi snapped back to reality, subtly glancing at Pei Huaijin’s right hand, a flicker of guilt stirring inside her.

She pressed her lips together obediently:

“I can walk...”

“Good.” He patted her head. “Let’s go see the results.”

Zhi Yi hung her head, reluctant to admit she’d lost. Even with that nine-point arrow, she was still six points behind first place.

But she said nothing, nodding obediently.

Before her words fell, the arena suddenly erupted in thunderous applause and cheers.

Following the crowd’s gaze, Zhi Yi saw the judge holding up the moving target she had just shot—a wild deer.

Behind it was a rabbit target, and the arrow had struck dead center in its bullseye!

Zhi Yi froze in astonishment, then slowly turned, meeting Pei Huaijin’s gaze, blinking in disbelief:

“I won?”

Pei Huaijin, seeing her stunned expression, allowed a faint warmth to color his normally cold voice:

“Yes, you won.”

His low, magnetic voice carried a teasing smile that seemed to whisper directly into Zhi Yi’s ear, stirring her heart.

She stared at him, forgetting to react, the only sound her own pounding heartbeat.

No matter how many times she faced him, whenever it was Pei Huaijin, her heart would flutter anew.

He was the man she had secretly admired since youth.

Pei Huaijin watched her dazed expression. After being calm as still water, a trace of a smile crept into his eyes as he raised an eyebrow:

“Not going?”

Zhi Yi suddenly snapped out of it, hastily pulling him along:

“Y-Yes, let’s go!”

Pei Huaijin lowered his head. The small hand in his right hand gripped tightly, pressing his fingertip red, occasionally rubbing gently as if seeking comfort.

He smirked slightly, then looked up toward the arena, his expression darkening gradually.