Hua Wen Grotto-Heaven.
The great river flowed eastward, and a five-toothed warship was sailing downstream with the current.
"The river stretched across the sky like a jade-green sash, reflecting hearts like red cinnabar and jade! The Ancient Literary Emperor's talent was truly beyond imagination. Back then, he had composed such poetry at merely seven years old." Su Qihan gazed over the broad river and sighed deeply.
She was the daughter of a current minister. Slender and graceful, pure and lovely, gentle and refined, she possessed the air of a scholarly household. Beyond her beauty, what people praised most was her talent. She was steeped in poetry and literary theory, well versed in historical records, enough to make the vast majority of men in the world hang their heads in shame.
"Miss, the wind has risen. Be careful not to catch a chill. Let us go back inside," the maid beside her advised.
Su Qihan sighed, yet remained by the inner side of the railing, watching the surging river.
The maid persisted. "Miss, are you worried about the journey ahead? Didn't you defeat that vile bandit and drive him away? In my opinion, we have already selected eight of the Ten Great Talents. Can't we just casually pick the remaining two?"
Su Qihan shook her head. "You do not understand. Selecting the Ten Great Talents is not merely an imperial decree—it concerns the future prosperity of the Su family."
The maid pouted. "Miss, I do not understand the grand principles of the imperial court, but you must drink your medicine."
Su Qihan smiled bitterly. "With injuries like mine, how could ordinary medicinal soup have any effect? It is merely a comfort to the heart. It does not matter whether I drink it or not."
The maid stamped her foot. "Miss, do