The poetry gathering at the Jing Commandery Prince's residence and the one held by the Crown Prince were the two most bustling social events in the capital. They occurred monthly, rain or shine, and countless impoverished scholars and poets from humble backgrounds sharpened their wits, desperate to squeeze their way in. They hoped to gain fame and recognition with a single poem or phrase, seeking a stepping stone to advancement.

It was common knowledge that the Crown Prince favored literature. Although Prince Jing, the Emperor's younger brother, aspired to be a wealthy and idle royal, lacking significant power, those with clear ambitions naturally preferred the Crown Prince's side.

However, receiving praise from the heir of Jing Commandery Prince was also a good way to gain renown. Therefore, each time the poetry gathering was held, the Prince's residence, not far from the Shixin Gate, welcomed many guests. Some arrived in sedan chairs, others in carriages, and still others on foot. Yet, the old steward at the gate treated everyone equally, respectfully ushering them inside after verifying their name cards.

Fan Xian sat inside his sedan chair, his face pale and contorted. He occasionally covered his lips, forcibly suppressing the urge to vomit.

Thinking that attending a poetry gathering, a refined event, might be more fitting in a small blue-curtained sedan chair, he requested to ride with his sister. However, having lived by the sea in Danzhou for years, he was immune to the rocking of boats, but the sedan chair was making him quite dizzy. Enduring the discomfort, he opened the side curtain and asked Teng Zijing weakly, "How much further?"

Teng Zijing suppressed a smile and replied, "Just past the intersection."

Fan Xian grunted and sat back, arranging his fingers in a delicate gesture, connecting his thumb and ring finger, allowing his inner energy to slowly dissipate, cleansing his internal organs. The nausea subsided slightly, but it couldn't cure the sedan sickness entirely.

His mind was plagued with numerous questions, and coupled with his physical discomfort, his brow furrowed deeply. These past few days, living in the capital residence, he felt that his father was very different from what he had imagined. Many things were inexplicable. For example, why did his father value him, this illegitimate son, so highly? Could it be truly because of his mother, a case of loving the crow because of its nest?

He glanced out of the sedan chair, through the thin blue cloth, at the figure on horseback. He knew that while Teng Zijing was currently inclined toward him, he was, after all, his father's man, and he couldn't fully trust him. He sighed, thinking that he must find some trustworthy subordinates of his own. Uncle Wu Zhu was like a ghost, not someone he could command at will.

Fan Xian was eager to know what his mother had done in the capital, how she had met his father, and how she had… left this world. This wasn't just simple curiosity or a longing for maternal affection; he believed that only by knowing the past could he better grasp his present and future.

At Jing Commandery Prince's residence, in front of a garden gate, several scholars were receiving the attention of a young man with flattered expressions. They never imagined that the heir of Jing Commandery Prince would personally greet them outside the garden gate for today's poetry gathering.

Two small blue-curtained sedan chairs swayed slowly over. Jing Commandery Prince's heir, somewhat impatiently, cupped his hands perfunctorily at the bowing scholars and went to meet the sedans. Only then did the scholars realize they had misunderstood his intentions. They dared not show any reaction on their faces, still smiling self-importantly. With a sweeping hand gesture, they followed the steward into the back garden.

The servants at the Prince's residence were also curious as to which distinguished guest would warrant the heir's personal welcome.

When they saw the young woman in a yellow dress emerging from the first sedan chair, the servants understood that it was Miss Fan from the Fan residence. Regardless of the relationship between the Jing Prince's residence and the Fan residence, based solely on the close friendship between Princess Roujia and Miss Fan, it was appropriate to greet her outside the garden since women weren't supposed to show their faces in public.

"Ruoruo, my sister." Jing Commandery Prince's heir, Li Hongcheng, was usually associated with brothels and similar establishments in the capital, but in front of Miss Fan, he kept his eyes lowered, appearing very respectful.

Fan Ruoruo curtsied slightly, greeted the heir, and then said with a smile, "What topic did Roujia come up with today?"

The heir laughed and answered a few words, but his eyes kept glancing at the sedan chair behind. He thought, "It's been half a day, why hasn't that brother come down yet?" A servant had already stepped forward and respectfully lifted the curtain, but… the sedan chair was empty. For a moment, everyone at the Prince's residence was shocked, wondering what was going on.

Fan Ruoruo covered her mouth and smiled, explaining, "My brother is behind."

As she spoke, everyone saw a sixteen or seventeen-year-old young man hurrying over from not far away, accompanied by a personal attendant. The young man wore a light chestnut-colored single garment, and his collar wasn't buttoned, which seemed a bit frivolous. However, combined with his lovely, friendly, and clean face, others felt that he should dress casually.

"Sorry, sorry." Fan Xian cupped his hands and bowed to the heir, saying awkwardly, "Sedan sickness, sedan sickness, so I walked all the way here. It was a bit hot, so I drank a bowl of sour plum juice outside the residence before coming. I'm late, I'm late."

"Not late, not late." Li Hongcheng, seeing the young man he had met once before, felt delighted and laughed heartily, "It's good that Brother Fan could come."

Hearing his address, Fan Xian noticed that he had added a "Fan" to his title compared to the other day. For a moment, he didn't know what attitude the other party wanted to express. After a slight pause, a smile appeared on his face: "The sour plum juice outside the Prince's residence is better than anywhere else, so I naturally had to come and see."

Heir Li Hongcheng smiled slightly, seeing that the conversation drifted lightly into the sky, found it even more interesting. He took Fan Xian by the hand and led him and his sister into the garden.

When Fan Xian was in Danzhou, he knew that his sister wrote good poetry - although in his opinion these poems were often just melancholic and couldn't escape certain cliches. There was still good poetry in this era, but it was clear that those young scholars who frequently attended poetry gatherings didn't have particularly strong attainments, so Fan Ruoruo still had a small reputation as a poet.

So he was curious about what kind of performance his sister would give in such a setting, and what Princess Roujia, who had caused the outflow of *Dream of the Red Chamber* and made the pirates rich, looked like.

But following Li Hongcheng into the back garden with its winding corridors and flowing water, he realized that in such a seemingly open country, men and women still sat separately. The ladies sat under a pavilion across the lake, with layers of white gauze hanging in front, dancing in the breeze.

Fan Xian followed the heir to the other side of the lake with some disappointment, looking at the swaying gauze in the distance. He couldn't help but think of his favorite Stephen Chow from his previous life, sighing deep down, "This really feels like first love."