As midnight approached, the festive atmosphere in Jiangning City gradually reached its peak. The carriage from the Su residence cut through the less crowded streets, slowing down as it neared Wu Yi Alley.

Along the way, the carriage was surrounded by flickering lights. Pulling back the curtain to look outside, even the usually quiet streets were bustling with activity. When they reached the commercial street near Wu Yi Alley, the road ahead was packed with people, making it feel as if the carriage was stuck in a quagmire. A procession with a dancing dragon was coming through, and the young driver had no choice but to pull the carriage to the side.

“Sis Xiao Chan, it’s getting hard to get through up ahead.”

The boy, likely a year or two older than Xiao Chan, still called her "Sis." Although it seemed Xiao Chan had merely been following Ning Yi around for the past few months, she and her two sisters had actually trained under Su Tan'er for many years. Since Su Tan'er was likely to take charge of the Su family in the future, her most trusted maidservants would definitely command some respect. This was why Xiao Chan could easily order a carriage. The boy, who had just signed a twenty-year servitude contract after entering the Su residence, understood her status and regarded her with a mix of respect and curiosity.

“I see. I’ll get off here, you can head back.” Xiao Chan lifted the curtain and jumped down from the carriage, turning to smile at him and waved her hand. “Thanks!”

“I—my name is Dong Zhu.” The boy gathered his courage and stuttered out his name, then looked up and said, “There are too many people ahead; let me take you through.”

“Dong Zhu, thank you!” Xiao Chan smiled and bowed slightly. Then she waved her hand and turned away, darting into the crowd like a butterfly. Her small hand could still be seen waving in the air before she disappeared.

Xiao Chan had been around Suzhou City many times and was very familiar with it. Regardless of the circumstances, when it came to socializing, handling affairs, or dealing with minor troubles, the seemingly simple and cute Xiao Chan was actually much more capable than the rural boy Dong Zhu. Besides, in a gathering place like this, it was unlikely that anyone would trouble a young girl out for a bit of fun. While there were indeed plenty of ruffians and wastrels around, they were not so easily encountered.

Navigating through the noisy crowd of dragon dancers, the distant sound of soft singing from a nearby brothel mingled with the lively sounds of the bustling market. Before long, someone came running with a piece of paper from the other end of the street: “Lichuan Poetry Meeting, Master Tang Yu’s new poem on bamboo…” The paper was then posted on a poetry board in front of a shop, and a nearby elderly man pushing a cart selling tea eggs and layered pancakes smiled as he avoided the crowd. Xiao Chan hurriedly dodged the cart, laughing as she moved ahead to join in the excitement.

After glancing at a few lines, Xiao Chan quickly followed the flow of people toward the riverside at the end of the street. Wu Yi Alley was not far from this street; although narrow, it was filled with a vibrant atmosphere, brightly lit and bustling with people. Near the riverbank, the lively Confucius Temple could already be seen.

This riverside street was the brightest jewel in all of Jiangning City. The road was adorned with exquisite lanterns, and the six connected boats from the Puyuan Poetry Meeting had been cruising along the Qinhuai River all evening. By this time, they would certainly be passing through here. Xiao Chan had experience attending poetry meetings, so she ran over to wait. She approached a curiosities shop run by the Pu family, presented her invitation, and the staff quickly called someone to intercept a small boat. At that moment, the magnificent water palace was already appearing at the far end of the Qinhuai River, sailing toward them amidst the numerous pleasure boats.

The small boats along the river came and went, and one of them gracefully departed from the shore, heading toward the large connected boat approaching in the center of the river. On the bow, a little girl delicately hooked her fingers in front of her, tilting her head back to gaze at the gradually approaching boat. The lanterns on the painted boat illuminated her lovely bun and her face, which held a hint of yearning. Music wafted from the riverside, indicating that another performance was nearing its conclusion. However, she didn’t feel any regret; being able to come out and enjoy herself was already wonderful. If she could learn a few songs here… She thought of how her husband liked to listen to music at night… Yes, he would definitely be pleased.

As the singing and dancing on the boat faded, enthusiastic applause erupted. Soon, small boats from the shore delivered several outstanding lines from the major poetry conferences, some accompanied by compliments and evaluations from well-known figures. A poetry conference was not merely a gathering of people sitting around reciting and writing poetry; since the painted boat set sail, there had been numerous performances—listening to lyrics, guessing lantern riddles, and enjoying the scenery, all creating a lively atmosphere. However, at this point, the gathering was entering its most critical phase. Although the festivities might continue until the early hours, past midnight, the poetry conference would gradually dwindle.

The main reason was that most of the older attendees or middle-aged people with poor health—poets often fell into this category—would only gather until this point. After this time, they couldn’t sustain their spirits any longer, and it would be time to go home. Among the literary circles, these individuals naturally held considerable renown, and their opinions were the main attraction for anyone hoping to make a name for themselves tonight. Once they left, what remained was the real game of talented scholars and beautiful women. Flirting would become the theme after midnight, resembling a grand gathering for courtesans. Although such gatherings could indeed be dressed up in elegant terms in this era of courtesans, their significance was no longer as paramount; for most men of this time, fame and beauty were their first choices.

Thus, by this time, various excellent poems had already been recited. The best ones had already made their way through, and tonight, several moon-themed poems had garnered exceptional praise. Su Tan'er had copied a few onto the white paper in front of her and was currently engaged in quiet conversation with a familiar lady from the Wu family nearby.

She had a love for poetry, even though she was not particularly skilled at it. In this era, poets were akin to modern celebrities; what girl didn’t have a bit of romantic sentiment in her heart? Her lack of expertise made her appreciation for poetry even deeper. The sight of a talented scholar displaying his literary prowess in front of everyone was naturally thrilling for her.

Of course, this is just a part of the spiritual pursuits in life, much like how many modern girls admire Andy Lau (a famous Chinese singer). While she appreciates him, she wouldn't express it too much, especially since her husband, Ning Yi, probably doesn't know much about poetry. After seeing the line “son fo b*tch” (Note: Here is Ning Yi using English pronunciation translated into Chinese, so it is not understood correctly as an ancient person.) she understood clearly, and he himself had confessed it. But that didn't really matter.

After a while, Xiao Chan came over with a maid leading the way.

“Has my lord gone to bed?”

“Mm, he has.”

“Should I have Juan'er and Xing'er come over to add a cushion?”

“Alright, I’ll go over, Miss… Good evening, Miss Wu San.”