Because nothing had happened the last time she went out with Qi Yuan, Second Madam Qi was far more relaxed this time.
But the moment they arrived at the Feng residence, her nerves flared up again.
This birthday banquet… was unlike anything she had ever seen.
Among the noble families, everyone was familiar with how to host such events, but the way the Feng family arranged this one—even Second Madam Qi had to admit—it was the first time she’d ever seen something like this.
Unlike others who would hire a famous opera troupe to perform, the Feng family simply set the banquet in the garden. Male and female guests were separated by a lake and an arched bridge.
Second Madam Qi led Qi Yuan to deliver their gift. As soon as they entered the flower hall, a strange, pleasant scent drifted by. She murmured, “It smells so good…”
At that moment, Zhou Wangfei was also smiling and asking Madam Feng, “May I ask what incense is burning? This scent feels unfamiliar—was it made by a certain master?”
Madam Feng chuckled. “That little girl Caiwei knows I suffer from migraines, so she blended this herself. It’s called Ji Gu Xiang—a recipe she dug out of an ancient text. Believe it or not, it actually helps me sleep better.”
Zhou Wangfei’s eyes lit up. This wasn’t just polite flattery; she truly suffered from migraines herself and hadn’t slept well for years. She quickly asked, “It really works for migraines?”
At once, the expressions of the other noblewomen shifted again.
This Miss Feng—was there anything she didn’t know? Not only was she skilled in the four arts, but she even knew perfumery and medicinal scents.
While Madam Feng was chatting with the princess, she noticed Second Madam Qi and immediately stood up with a smile. “Ah, Second Madam Qi, you’ve come.”
Second Madam Qi hurried forward, half bowing. “Greetings, Marchioness Chengen.”
Madam Feng grinned, eyes narrowed with delight. “Please, sit, sit! Back when we traveled to Yunnan, you must’ve still been a little girl. Now that we’ve returned, I can hardly recognize anyone.”
Just as they were speaking, an announcement came from outside—the Imperial Grandson and Nanan County Prince had arrived.
All the women quickly stood up.
Nanan County Prince was the Crown Prince’s second son, born of Song Liangdi. For him to show up together with Xiao Yunting, it was clear evidence of how much favor the Feng family enjoyed.
Seizing the moment, Second Madam Qi led Qi Yuan toward the women’s side hall where the ladies were gathered. As they walked in, they were greeted by a sharp voice full of irritation—Wang Chan’s voice: “Wei Qingyang, don’t go too far!”
Startled, Second Madam paused. As Wang family’s in-law, she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t heard. She stepped forward at once. “Ah Chan, what’s going on?”
The moment Wang Chan turned and saw Second Madam Qi and Qi Yuan, her eyes lit up. The moment she saw Qi Yuan, her face brightened even more. She snorted coldly, “Nothing. I just can’t stand people being pretentious and full of sarcasm.”
Only then did Second Madam Qi notice the small table in front of them. Several plates of pastries were laid out—each one exquisitely made.
Wei Qingyang sat there with a half-smile. “What, can’t recognize them so now you blame others for it? Wang Chan, how impressive of you.”
Wang Chan bit her lip, flustered and angry. “They’re just pastries! I eat pastries every day—who memorizes every single one?”
Wei Qingyang chuckled mockingly. “Ah, but you don’t recognize any of them.”
Second Madam Qi frowned in confusion. What in the world were they arguing about?
Fighting over… pastries?
At that moment, Qi Yuan spoke coolly. “Why would anyone need to recognize pastries? And even if they do—what exactly does that prove?”
Wei Qingyang’s gaze turned even more sarcastic. “These pastries were all made by Caiwei, using recipes from ancient texts. Of course people who’ve never studied wouldn’t recognize them.”
Feng Caiwei tugged on her sleeve, seemingly helpless. “I invited you here as a guest, not to be my spokesperson.”
Qi Yuan raised her eyebrow at Wei Qingyang. “Oh? Then naturally, Miss Wei must be extremely well-read and fully aware of the origins of each pastry, right?”
Wei Qingyang stiffened and snapped back, “As if you would recognize them!”
Qi Yuan smiled faintly. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Stepping forward, she glanced at the small table, then said calmly, “Fragrant Papaya Cake, Fragrant Vine Flower Pastry, Milk Blossom Jade Custard.”
Wang Chan froze, instinctively glancing at Second Madam Qi.
Second Madam was even more stunned.
She had no idea Qi Yuan knew anything about this sort of thing. No wonder Qi Yuan was always asking the kitchen to try strange new recipes. She would explain the cooking process herself…
Wei Qingyang was equally stunned but quickly sneered. “Who knows if you’re just making things up? None of us recognize them anyway. You could say anything and we’d have no way to argue.”
Qi Yuan turned her gaze toward Feng Caiwei. She caught the faint, genuine flicker of surprise on Feng Caiwei’s face.
Qi Yuan raised a brow slightly. “Miss Feng is right here. Aren’t these listed in Dreams of Splendor of the Eastern Capital? Am I right, Miss Feng?”
Feng Caiwei’s heart skipped.
Qi Yuan… was even more unpredictable than she had imagined.
Qi Wang had said Qi Yuan was a killer—cold, ruthless, skilled in poison.
But no one had ever mentioned that Qi Yuan also read random, obscure texts like Dreams of Splendor of the Eastern Capital.
For a woman to have read the Four Books and Five Classics was already rare—who would bother with food encyclopedias?
Feng Caiwei herself had only learned about these from the ancient texts in the Feng family’s private library. But Qi Yuan?
Even so, she maintained her polite smile and responded frankly, “Indeed. I told you not to stir things up. It’s nothing extraordinary. But see? You’ve embarrassed yourself in front of a real connoisseur.”
In other words—Qi Yuan had correctly identified them.
Wei Qingyang looked completely stunned.
Qi Yuan wasn’t Qi Jin—she was someone the Qi family brought back much later. How had she even studied, let alone read this sort of thing?
Wang Chan, on the other hand, was practically bursting with joy. Nearly worshipful, she grabbed Qi Yuan’s hand and glanced smugly at Wei Qingyang. “So? What does recognizing pastries prove? That you’re more knowledgeable, more capable?”
She snickered. “Didn’t you say earlier that if I could name even one, you’d kowtow?”
Wei Qingyang’s face turned a deep, ugly shade.
Earlier, not a single girl in the room had been able to recognize any of these pastries.
Feng Caiwei had casually mentioned that she made them based on ancient recipes—so of course no one knew what they were!
No one expected Qi Yuan—the weirdo—to actually name them correctly. Was she a mouse in her past life? How did she memorize even pastry names?
Qi Yuan turned her gaze toward Feng Caiwei.
Feng Caiwei was looking at her too. Compared to before, her eyes now held a clear sense of scrutiny, guardedness—and a faint trace of hostility.
Ah. Now this was the Feng Caiwei Qi Yuan was familiar with.
Qi Yuan chuckled quietly in her heart.
