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No, no, no I'm late, that too without completing the punishment!

"I'm late," I stammered, the crushing weight of unfinished punishment settling on my shoulders. With a groan, I buried my face in my hands, the weight of the world pressing down.

"Oh, mom," I whispered, yearning for the comfort of her embrace, "I just want to be with you now." But the thought of all the delicious food I hadn't savored yet spurred me back to life.

My mind conjured images of the delectable treats I craved: the soft, glutinous rice cakes bursting with savory fillings, wrapped in bamboo leaves; the delicate wontons swimming in a fragrant chicken broth, their aroma making my mouth water; the fluffy, pillowy steamed buns from the town square, waiting to be devoured; and the moon cakes from the Mid-Autumn Festival, their sweetness a promise of pure indulgence.

The thought of these culinary delights, so close yet so far, was enough to jolt me back to reality. I couldn't succumb to despair yet. I had to find a way out of this mess, a way to appease the Duke and still satisfy my yearning taste buds. With a newfound determination, I lifted my head, the glint of defiance returning to my eyes.

The library, once a place of frustration, now presented a challenge to be conquered. I grabbed the brush, its smooth texture grounding me in the present. The characters on the page blurred slightly, but my resolve remained firm. I would copy, I would strategize, and I would not be defeated.

The Mid-Autumn Festival was months away. I wouldn't taste those sweet moon cakes this year if I wasn't even around.

No! I couldn't give them up for anything.

I sighed, resigned to whatever additional punishment awaited me. At least at the end of it, I could have those fluffy steamed buns! A smile played on my lips as I imagined a steaming bowl of dumplings swimming in front of me. I squeezed my cheeks in my palms, nodding repeatedly as the guard watched me with raised eyebrows.

"Princess," he finally started.

"I'm going!" I interrupted, throwing him a determined look. "You can leave. Inform Duke Wei that I'll be late. And get me another robe. I'll change here, so don't even think about spying on me!"

After all, Duke Wei clearly favored me. I doubted he would punish me too harshly.

Seeing him linger beside me, I slowly lifted my gaze to meet his, tapping my fingers impatiently on the desk. I then squinted at him, a playful glint in my eyes, making it clear what I meant by needing to change. He understood, bowing slightly before backing out of the room.

A wave of worry washed over me as I realized I couldn't find the script I'd been working on the day before. I frantically scanned the table, my heart sinking with each passing second.

Panic gnawed at me. Where could the script be? I gritted my teeth, anxiety twisting in my gut. My fingers brushed past each book on the table, desperately searching. Every thud of a book hitting the floor echoed like a hammer blow to my already pounding heart.

Just as I tossed a brown book aside in frustration, a glimmer of hope caught my eye. A small scroll peeked out from behind the table leg, partially hidden in the shadows. Relief washed over me, warm and welcome.

With a sigh that expelled the tension that had been building, I scrambled under the table. Reaching out, I grasped the scroll's edge and pulled it toward me. Dust motes danced in the sunlight filtering through the window as I hoisted myself back onto the chair. A wide smile bloomed on my face as I pushed the scattered brushes aside, my fingers eager to touch the familiar texture of the parchment.

Unfurling the scroll, I scanned the words I'd meticulously written the day before. But my smile faltered. The script was far from complete, nowhere near ready to be presented. A wave of discouragement washed over me. How could I face the Duke with such a meager offering?

Just as despair threatened to consume me, a gust of wind swept through the library, sending a shiver down my spine. As I turned to reach for a fallen brush, my eyes caught a curious sight. The brush had left a trail of marks across the dusty floor, a random sequence of lines and curves.

My gaze flickered to the script, and a connection sparked in my mind. A slow smile spread across my face, widening as a mischievous glint lit up my eyes. The wind, seemingly conspiring with me, had provided an unexpected source of inspiration.

An idea began to take shape. What if, I thought, I could combine the separate words I'd already written with the recurring characters drawn on the floor by the wind? It was a gamble, a risky attempt to complete the task within the short time remaining. But faced with no other options, I was willing to take the chance.

With renewed determination, I blew a playful raspberry at the scroll, a gesture of defiance against the seemingly insurmountable task. Picking up a brush, I dipped it in ink and began to work with renewed fervor. I meticulously copied the major characters from the book onto the scroll, the ink drying almost as quickly as I applied it.

Then, came the real challenge - incorporating the wind-drawn patterns. Carefully, I compared the flowing lines and curves on the floor with the similar symbols in the "Royal Etiquette" book. It was like solving a puzzle, deciphering a hidden language. Slowly, connections began to form, the seemingly random marks revealing themselves as lesser-known characters, rarely used but nonetheless valid.

With a triumphant flourish, I drew the final character, holding it up to the window as if offering it to the wind in gratitude. As if on cue, a gentle breeze swept through the room, carrying the brush across the scroll. The brush tip danced across the parchment, leaving behind a trail of ink that mirrored the wind-drawn pattern.

I rushed down, excitement bubbling in my chest, and snatched up the scroll. Folding it neatly, I unfolded it again, eager to see the results of my audacious attempt. A wide smile bloomed on my face as my eyes met the completed script. Not only had I managed to fulfill the task, but I had done so in a way that was both creative and resourceful.

Suddenly, the door burst open, startling me from my reverie. The guard stood outside, a green long robe draped over his arm.

"Right on time!" I exclaimed, a playful glint in my eyes. I leaped across the room, snatching the robe from his grasp. He mumbled something under his breath and turned to leave, his face a mixture of amusement and bewilderment.

My fingers fumbled, shoving the brush onto the table in my haste to reach the changing shelves. In the chaos, the brush toppled over, its inky tip leaving an unsightly smear across the painstakingly completed script.

I snatched the ruined scroll and shoved it into the folds of my robe. The pounding of the drums from the Yu River echoed through the halls, a relentless reminder of the ceremony's imminent start. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, mirroring the relentless beat.

As the door shut behind him, I glanced down at the scroll, a sense of satisfaction washing over me. I had faced a challenge, used my wit, and emerged victorious. And while the path ahead remained uncertain, I knew that with a little ingenuity, I could overcome any obstacle.

Taking a deep breath, I smoothed down my robe, the damp fabric clinging uncomfortably to my skin. A stray hairpin threatened to fall from my hastily tied knot, but I ignored it, focusing on the task at hand. I had to get to the ceremony, consequences be damned.

With a mischievous grin, I tucked the scroll into my sleeve, ready to face whatever the future held.

A long, resigned sigh escaped my lips as I scrambled down the library stairs and took off at a sprint towards the river. The pounding of my feet against the stone floor echoed the urgency thrumming in my chest. As I reached the paved walkway bordering the river, a wave of relief washed over me. I had made it.

Scanning the bustling crowd, I spotted a large group heading towards an elevated platform at the far end of the open area. That must be where the ceremony was being held. Mustering a smile, I joined the throng, weaving through the mass of bodies. My eyes flickered over the crowd, most of whom were adorned with swords, scabbards, and sabers strapped to their waists. A few individuals, while unarmed, held themselves with the air of seasoned martial artists.

The air suddenly filled with sound as music began to play. The gentle plucking of a zither and the melodious singing of maidens filled the space, momentarily lightening the mood. The crowd, previously engaged in hushed conversations, erupted in polite applause as they settled onto their designated seats.

Duke Wei entered the scene, a stately figure accompanied by General Su and a young woman who, I presumed, was the General's most accomplished soldier. I had often seen her by his side, the sole female to achieve such a position. She was a constant source of inspiration, fueling my own desire to hone my martial arts skills.

Duke Wei's loose sleeves billowed around his arms as he approached the center, his steps deliberate and measured as he made his way towards a seat of honor at the head of the platform. General Su followed closely behind, flanked by the young woman who carried a formidable-looking sword in her arms.

My breath hitched in my throat as my eyes darted towards a familiar figure being ushered towards them, guarded by soldiers. His bright blue eyes were unmistakable - Zhen Lan, my childhood friend and son of General Su, born from one of his concubines.

He wasn't the most talkative, but I was known to get him to open up. In fact, Bai Ying even had a crush on him when we were little.

Unlike me, my talent wasn't in making friends, but in getting under people's skin. It was a mischievous streak that I found oddly amusing, especially when the victims couldn't do anything about it.

I yearned to approach Zhen Lan, but before I could, Duke Wei gestured him closer, summoning him to his side. A dozen maidens, their faces veiled, descended onto the stage in precise rows. My heart jumped at the sight, their sheer number momentarily throwing me off balance. I was standing in the way of their path to the stage, and to avoid attracting unwanted attention from the Duke, I retreated hastily, weaving through the crowd towards the visitors' section.

The dancers took their positions, their movements graceful and synchronized as they swayed to the music. Their hands fluttered like butterflies in the air, mirroring the gentle swaying of their bodies. Each step forward or backward was accompanied by a flourish of their hands, creating a mesmerizing display.

The crowd responded with enthusiastic applause, their appreciation echoing along the edges of the stage. I squeezed through the dense crowd, desperate to find a seat without being noticed. Just as I reached the back row, the Duke's gaze landed on me. My stomach lurched, and I felt a flicker of anxiety as I settled into my seat, avoiding his accusing stare.

The cheers intensified as a group of elders emerged from the palace entrance. Dressed in their ceremonial attire, they waved to the crowd as they made their way towards the platform, one by one.

Five elders, their appearance distinct from the others, walked at the forefront. Their arrival prompted another eruption of cheers, the sound rising above the music and the rhythmic clap of the zither. The ceremony was well underway, and despite my tardiness and ruined scroll, I found myself captivated by the unfolding spectacle.

As the rhythmic melody of the zither continued to weave its spell, the Duke and other dignitaries continued to take their places on the platform. One elder, entering with a dignified bow, drew a murmur of recognition.

"Zhu Yan from Kongtong Sect," someone whispered, the information quickly carried through the crowd.

Another elder followed, his jovial wave met with cheers that reached my ears.

"Ming Xuan from Emei Sect," the name flitted through the crowd, carried on the excited buzz.

But the loudest cheers erupted when the final two groups entered. Their students, easily distinguished by their distinct uniforms, roared their approval, their voices a sea of unified excitement.

Caught off guard by the sudden surge of noise, I frowned in confusion. Why were these two sects receiving such a raucous welcome?

"Ye Shiqi from Wudang Sect and-" the announcer began, his voice momentarily lost in the deafening cheers.

Suddenly, the entire crowd erupted in a frenzy.

"Yu Qi from Luoxia Sect!" the announcement concluded, barely audible above the thunderous applause.

Yu Qi, the object of the crowd's adoration, responded with a gracious wave and a dignified bow. As he took his seat beside the other sect leaders, the cheers settled into a steady rhythm of clapping and appreciative murmurs.

The final dance ended with a flourish, the maidens bowing in unison before gracefully exiting the stage. One of them, however, lingered for a moment, her eyes locking with mine before she offered a playful smirk and disappeared into the background.

Momentarily stunned by the encounter, I sat up straighter, my gaze flitting across the crowd as the ceremony continued to unfold.

The final dancer's lingering smirk sent a shiver down my spine. I didn't know her, so why the pointed look? I was still puzzling over it when Duke Wei cleared his throat, snapping my attention to the front.

Silence descended as the Duke rose, his formal attire rustling as he did. "I am grateful to everyone for joining us at this year's Bloom Sessions," he announced, his voice resonating across the courtyard. "This marks the eleventh year of this event, held to select a Sword Holder for the Princess. Today, we introduce the representatives from various sects. The competition proper shall commence tomorrow."

Thunderous applause erupted as the Duke concluded his speech. He then turned towards me with a sigh, though his attention quickly shifted back to the eager crowd, awaiting the commencement.

My lips pursed in contemplation. How would things unfold? At least the competition promised some entertainment, a welcome change from the monotony of my daily life. Otherwise, I might just doze off again.

A sudden roar from the crowd jolted me awake. "Xiao Fan from the Kongtong Sect!" they bellowed.

I watched as the named individual, seemingly unremarkable except for a mischievous glint in his eyes, entered the ring, his sword held loosely at his side. His colleagues erupted in joyous cheers as he took his place.

"Su Ruo from Emei Sect!" Another girl emerged behind him, her movements swift and graceful as she acknowledged the cheering crowd, quickly making her way to the ring.

As the representatives from each sect were introduced and entered the ring, a mix of curiosity and nervousness bubbled within me. The prospect of a competition, especially involving skilled martial artists, was undeniably enticing. Perhaps, just perhaps, this event wouldn't be entirely dreadful after all.

A strict smile curved her lips as she stepped aside, her movements fluid and practiced, paving the way for the next participant. Stepping forward, she raised a hand in greeting, and the crowd responded with a surge of cheers that followed her as she joined the other disciple from the Kongtong Sect on the ring.

"Mo Yan from Wudang Sect!" The announcer's voice boomed, and a young man stepped forward, his posture straight and his movements controlled. He bowed deeply, acknowledging the cheers that erupted from the crowd before taking his place in the ring.

The final disciple remained shrouded in shadows for a moment, then stepped out with a flourish, drawing gasps and thunderous cheers from the crowd. Even before the announcer could speak, the disciples already present in the ring erupted in a frenzy, chanting his name.

"Lu Zhao Yun from Luoxia Sect!" the announcer finally managed to declare, his voice barely audible above the cacophony.

My head snapped towards the ring as if pulled by an invisible thread. My breath hitched in my throat as my eyes met the familiar face of Lu Zhao Yun. The boy who had saved me from the bandits in the woods, the one whose unwavering gaze and quiet strength had left such a lasting impression, stood before me now, bathed in the spotlight.

He was taller than I remembered, his lean frame hardened by years of training. His face, once youthful and innocent, had matured, etching a story of hardship and determination in the sharp lines around his eyes. His dark hair, once tied loosely, was now pulled back in a tight braid, revealing a strong jawline and a resolute expression. But still hiding beneath a mask.

He scanned the crowd briefly, his gaze seemingly searching for someone. And then, our eyes met. Recognition flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a flicker of surprise before settling into a warm smile. He tilted his head slightly, a silent wordless greeting that sent a wave of warmth through me. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same stoic mask he wore before.

In that moment, amidst the cheering crowds and the anticipation of the competition, the world around me faded away.

"This is getting interesting."

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Who is this Lu Zhao Yun?

Why did the crowd become loud when he entered?

Which participant will take the title?

Will she accomplish providing a complete work?