Chapter 135 — The Contest (Bonus Chapter: Asking for Pink Votes)
Purple Streets of Chang'an · Page 3 of 4
Dong Qi nodded at Song Yan with a calm smile, but his gaze was cold as frost.
Song Yan returned a faint smile and turned his attention to the archery.
Soon the eunuch blew the ox-horn trumpet.
The contest began.
At first Song Yan was steady, every arrow finding the target. But the longer it went on, the more mistakes he made; one arrow barely lodged in the target, and a moment's distraction would have sent it wide.
The spectators in the stands could not help exclaiming "Eh?" and sat up straight, watching the ground with tense faces—among them the Emperor himself, the Duke of Yingguo, and the Earl of Guang'en.
Song Yan seemed to sense that his form was off. He did not keep shooting, but closed his eyes and drew several deep breaths before raising his bow and drawing the string to full.
The arrows after that flew true.
Even so, when the two events were tallied together, Song Yan placed only second.
First place went to Dong Qi.
After Song Yan, he was the second noble scion in all these years to take first in the mounted archery contest at the Autumn Hunt.
Third place went to Jiang Yi.
Jiang Yi looked at Song Yan with real regret for him—Song Yan had lost to Dong Qi by a single arrow.
And Dong Qi stood there with a proud, commanding air, the elation plain on his brow, his father's words ringing again in his ears: "...In the past I would not let you enter the mounted archery at the Autumn Hunt because you had no certainty of defeating Song Yan. Better to bide your time and conceal your strength than to add luster to Song Yan's name. Wait for your moment. This time the Jiang family has fallen into trouble, and Song Ke may emerge unscathed. Whether you can take the crown—whether you can defeat Song Yan in one stroke—will depend entirely on you!"
And now at last he stood before Song Yan.
But from the stands came the Emperor's furious roar: "Drag that little brat Song Yan in here before Us! What kind of shooting was that? We could shoot better than that with Our eyes closed..."
Song Yan was summoned inside.
"You wretch, what have you been doing at home all these days?" The Emperor's voice rolled across the training ground like thunder. "Do you realize you have gambled away Our deputy commander of the Jinwu Guard?" He went on, "And We hear you have taken up gambling? The Autumn Hunt is at hand, and instead of preparing properly at home, you go running off to mix with a pack of good-for-nothings? If you do not start taking things seriously, We will break your legs and throw you into the Banner Guard to hold horses for Us. No—throw you into the Fengtai Camp..."
A dead silence fell over the training ground and all around it.
The Emperor would scold the Crown Prince, scold the Prince of Liao, scold Wang Yuan, even scold Empress Yi—but he never scolded the grand secretaries, the marquises and earls, the dukes and ministers. Yet this time he had scolded Song Yan.
Every gaze fell upon Song Zhi, envious.
Dong Qi's mind was in a muddle; he no longer knew what he himself was feeling.
Since Song Yan had made a mistake and the Emperor truly meant to punish him, why not throw him into the Northwest Camp?
The Fengtai Camp—how many noble sons would have battered down walls to get in and found no way through?
Was this punishment or favor?
What use was first place to him now?
For in this moment, the one the Emperor cared about, the one in the eyes of every prince and minister, was still Song Yan.
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On the road back, Song Cen and his son rode in the same carriage.
"A matter this grave—why did you not consult me first?" He was frantic and furious, his face flushed red. "If the Emperor thinks I put you up to testing him, will this father and son even leave Huailai alive today? You are thirteen this year—why do you still act like a child of three, with no sense of what is proper?"
Did he not know his own son? Was this a boy to lose his head over a few words from others?
Song Yan could only smile at his father in apology.