Mei was taken aback by the girl's sudden declaration, but her years of idol training allowed a perfectly polite smile to remain fixed on her face. She gave a slow, deliberate nod, choosing to treat the words as simple enthusiasm rather than a direct challenge.
Ning Rongrong, having issued what she felt was a necessary warning, turned her attention back to the empty stage. The lantern light cast a soft glow on her features, which were still set in an expression of mild superiority.
"So, this is the main attraction? A musical performance?" she asked, the faintest hint of a condescending smile playing on her lips. "I've seen the best students from the Heavenly Dou Empire's Moon Pavilion perform. Their technique is flawless, their compositions sublime. What could possibly be presented here, in a city square, that would compare?"
Inside Mei's mind, the Ai was practically vibrating with indignation.
'The audacity! To judge a performance before the first note has even been sung! This child needs to learn some manners! We should—'
'Calm down, Ai,' Mei thought back, her internal voice a calm lake against Ai's tempest. 'I've got this.'
Outwardly, Mei's smile softened, becoming almost apologetic. "You are absolutely right to have high standards, Miss Ning. The Moon Pavilion is legendary. I would never be so presumptuous as to claim I could rival their master musicians," she said, her voice a gentle, melodic counterpoint to Ning Rongrong's sharpness.
She paused, letting the humility of her words settle. "But if you would grant me the courtesy of your patience, you could watch my simple performance first. Then, you would be the judge of whether it held any small piece of value."
Ning Rongrong studied Mei's serene face, looking for any sign of sarcasm or false modesty. Finding none, she let out a small, airy huff. "Fine. I'll watch it. But you can't start until my father and Sword Grandpa arrive. They should be here shortly." She said this with the finality of a royal decree.
"Of course, that is no problem," Mei agreed smoothly. "There is a café just there, with a fine view of the square. We can wait in comfort. Please, allow me to offer you some refreshment after your tour."
The group moved to the café, a quiet establishment with wooden tables and the rich aroma of brewing tea. The process of finding a table, settling into the cushioned chairs, and perusing the simple menu itself served to slow the frantic energy of the previous confrontation.
Mei and Tang San took charge of ordering, selecting a pot of jasmine tea and an assortment of delicate, sweet pastries.
The temporary truce, however, was paper-thin. As soon as they were seated, the debate between Xiao Wu and Ning Rongrong simmered back to life, though now it unfolded over the clinking of porcelain cups.
"You'll see," Xiao Wu insisted, her voice a low, fervent whisper as she leaned across the table. "Senior Mei's voice... It's not just about technique. It's like... it touches something inside you. It's nothing like those rigid, perfect performances you're talking about."
"Rigid? Perfect?" Ning Rongrong retorted, her voice cool as she took a delicate sip of tea. She placed the cup down with a soft, precise click. "They represent centuries of refined artistry. It is a discipline someone from a... smaller background might not fully appreciate." The pause was intentional, the condescension unmistakable.
Xiao Wu's hands, which had been wrapped around her warm cup, clenched into fists on the table. "You know what? You've been nothing but rude and stuck-up since we sat down! What does it matter that you're from some grand sect? That doesn't make you better than us!"
Ning Rongrong's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. She drew herself up, her posture impeccably straight. "As the eldest young mistress of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, it is not a matter of being 'better,'" she stated, her voice crisp and formal.
"It is a matter of natural hierarchy. You are all soul masters of... lesser standing. It is customary to show respect to one's superiors."
That was the final straw. Xiao Wu pushed her chair back, ready to leap across the table. But Tang San's hand was suddenly there, a firm, warm weight on her shoulder, pressing her gently but irrevocably back into her seat. At the exact same moment, Mei reached out and laid a calming hand on Xiao Wu's forearm.
"Xiao Wu, enough," Mei said, her voice low but firm. She then turned her gaze to Ning Rongrong. Her expression wasn't angry, but held a quiet dignity. "Miss Ning, while your status is undeniable, courtesy is a currency that flows both ways. My friend is right that your words have been dismissive. However, she is also correct that I have not yet had the opportunity to earn your regard. I am not offended by your skepticism. I will let my performance provide the answer."
Tang San looked at Ning Rongrong, his gaze steady and earnest, devoid of anger but full of a simple, honest logic. "Ning Rongrong," he said, using her name without her title for the first time, making her blink in surprise. "A title can command obedience, but it can't command friendship. If you want the latter, the pride that comes with the former needs to be set aside sometimes. Leading with your status... it makes people feel small. And no one enjoys feeling that way."
Ning Rongrong stared at him. She saw the sincerity in his eyes, then glanced at Xiao Wu's still-furious pout and Mei's patient, unwavering composure. The defensive walls around her pride wavered. The logic was irrefutable, and it was delivered without malice. A faint flush of shame touched her cheeks.
She looked down at her lap, where her hands were tightly clasped. "I... I see," she murmured, her voice much smaller than before. "That... was poorly done of me. I will... try to be better."
Seeing her genuine contrition, Tang San offered a small, encouraging smile. He reached out and gently patted her head, a brotherly gesture he often used with Xiao Wu. "That's all anyone can ask."
The simple, affectionate contact sent a jolt through Ning Rongrong. Her head shot up, her cheeks blooming with a bright, unmistakable blush. She quickly looked away, flustered and trying to hide her reaction.
Across the table, Xiao Wu witnessed the entire exchange, and the strange, hot coil of jealousy in her stomach tightened painfully. She looked away, scowling at a crack in the wooden table.
Inside Mei's mind, Ai was cooing.
'Oh, the drama! The blush of first crush! The green-eyed monster of jealousy! And we are sitting right here, witnessing it all unfold! This is priceless! Far more entertaining than any stage play!'
Mei, caught off guard by Ai's theatrical commentary, let out a sudden, involuntary giggle, which she hastily tried to mask by pretending to cough into her hand.
The tense atmosphere, punctuated by Mei's giggle and soothed by the warm tea, began to gradually dissipate. They spoke of lighter things—the peculiarities of academy life, the funny habits of their teachers, and Ning Rongrong's stories of growing up in the magnificent, yet often isolating, environment of her sect.
After a long, comfortable silence filled only with the quiet sounds of the café, Mei leaned forward slightly. She folded her hands on the table, her expression one of open, guileless curiosity.
"Umm, this may be forward of me to ask," she began, her tone respectful. "But as we are not from the capital, our knowledge of the great sects is mostly from hearsay. It's all a bit mysterious to us." She paused, meeting Ning Rongrong's eyes. "Would you... Would you be willing to tell us a bit more about the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect? What is it truly like?"
The question hung in the air. It was not asked with fawning admiration or greedy calculation, but with a simple, genuine desire to understand. Ning Rongrong was silent for a long moment, truly looking at the three people before her.
A genuine, unguarded smile, small but real, finally touched her lips. Before she could continue to answer, a male voice spoke.
"It seems my dear daughter is having fun without me."