Inside the water pavilion, applause swelled like the tide; Jiang Wan’s poem had won over the entire room. Noble young ladies gathered around her, some showering her with praise, others begging for a copy of her verses. It was a lively scene. In contrast, Jiang Rou sat alone in a corner, her face ghastly and sullen. Her fingernails dug deep into her palms, leaving dark red crescent marks. Beside her, Liu Ruyan clutched her fan so tightly her knuckles turned white, her eyes burning with resentment.
"It was nothing more than sheer luck. Who’s to say she didn't just plagiarize it from somewhere?" Jiang Rou suddenly blurted out. Her voice was sharp and grating, like a blade tearing through the cheerful atmosphere of the pavilion. She was mad with jealousy. Watching Jiang Wan become the center of everyone’s attention felt more bitter than swallowing coptis. In her mind, Jiang Wan was supposed to be the useless, legitimate daughter she could manipulate at will. That she was now stealing the spotlight was more than Jiang Rou could bear.
All eyes turned to Jiang Rou instantly, and the room fell into a heavy silence. Jiang Wan turned to face her, a faint, composed smile curling at the corners of her lips—a smile that was calm and confident, yet maddeningly bright to Jiang Rou.
Chapter 37