Su Qingxi confidently turned and walked toward the desk brought over by the attendant, unaware that the looks people were giving her were somewhat off.
How could this person be so ignorant of etiquette?
She didn’t even bow when replying to the Grand Princess, yet she dared to speak so boldly.
It’s said that this Miss Su comes from a humble background—her father is merely a provincial scholar without an official position.
Even though she has lived in the Prime Minister’s Mansion for quite some time, with a well-mannered nanny like Nanny Cui by her side.
Did she never think to seek guidance and learn a thing or two?
Truly, those from petty families carry a narrow-minded air that cannot be shed.
Shen Shuangyu also frowned slightly but ultimately chose not to argue with a young girl.
On the viewing platform, some had already begun poetry competitions to befriend one another.
Back and forth, the exchanges were brilliant and lively.
Palace maids continuously brought over poems written by the esteemed guests for Shen Zhaoli and Shen Shuangyu to review.
After reading a few, Shen Zhaoli lost interest.
As she placed them back on the tray, she noticed one particularly eye-catching sheet of paper.
The other poems submitted were written on clean, neatly arranged rice paper.
Only this one had a thumb-sized ink blot smeared across it, looking messy and dirty.
Shen Zhaoli picked out this poem and saw that the handwriting was vigorous and powerful, with exceptional grace and character.
In stark contrast to the dirty paper, it was a poem titled “Ode to the Peony.”
Under the vast sky, flowers bloom with the sun,
In this joyful land, spring returns with unparalleled beauty.
The nation’s splendor and heavenly fragrance are admired by all,
Its colors outshine all others, reigning supreme in spring.
Shen Zhaoli couldn’t help but frown slightly as she looked at the palace maid beside her.
“Who wrote this poem?”
The palace maid examined it carefully and widened her eyes in surprise.
“This… I don’t know, Your Highness. The poems submitted all had the names of the young masters and ladies signed on them.”
Shen Zhaoli glanced at the other papers and saw that, indeed, each had a name inscribed in the lower left corner.
Only the one in her hand had a large stain in the same spot.
This person had deliberately smudged their name.
They didn’t want her to know who they were.
Her slender fingers traced the first character of each line, revealing the hidden message: “Changle, the nation’s beauty.”
Shen Zhaoli couldn’t help but find it amusing. They dared to write an acrostic poem praising her but didn’t dare to claim it.
After a moment’s thought, Shen Zhaoli took out a gold leaf engraved with the Changle seal from her sleeve and placed it on the poem.
“If you find the person who wrote this, give this to them and say it’s my reward.”
Seeing this, Shen Shuangyu chuckled softly.
“Since you’re here, Li’er, would you like to add a prize to the poetry competition at this Spring Radiance Banquet?”
Shen Zhaoli raised an eyebrow slightly. “Why not?”
Soon, everyone in the garden knew.
Princess Changle had offered a golden sparrow hairpin with a flower pendant, bestowed by the emperor, as an additional prize.
Instantly, the competition grew even fiercer. On the viewing platform, small groups of two or three gathered everywhere, drinking and competing in poetry.
Some were overjoyed, while others hung their heads in disappointment.
Observing the lively scene, Shen Shuangyu couldn’t help but smile. “The prize you casually offered seems to be more popular than the carefully cultivated seedlings I prepared.”
Shen Zhaoli stifled a laugh. “Your seedlings are each precious. Without a gardener with ten years of experience, they wouldn’t survive. Who would dare to compete for them recklessly?”
Shen Shuangyu thought about it and realized it was true.
In previous years, most of the young ladies and gentlemen who won first place ended up sending the seedlings they won from her to the Ministry of Agriculture.
“Very well, then today I’ll offer something different as a prize.”
“Since you’ve offered a golden hairpin, how can there be no splendid attire to match it?” Shen Shuangyu smiled and summoned a palace maid, whispering instructions to her.
Before long, a brocade box was brought up to the high platform.
Shen Zhaoli gazed at the intricate patterns on the box from a distance, a flicker of surprise flashing in her eyes.
“Aunt, surely you aren’t…”
Shen Shuangyu smiled faintly. “I am old now. Keeping the Phoenix Dance Gown serves no purpose—it is better left for someone else.”
Shen Zhaoli’s eyelids twitched, her heart filled with astonishment.
The craftsmanship of the Phoenix Dance Gown was exceedingly complex. It required gathering sixty-four different colored silk threads, woven into fabric using a special technique.
After being cut and tailored into a skirt, the finest embroiderers from across the land were sought out to embellish it with gold and silver threads, creating intricate patterns.
From every angle, it appeared as though a phoenix were soaring through the heavens, hence its name, the Phoenix Dance Gown.
That single gown had taken an entire year to complete.
Now, the techniques used in its creation had long been lost, and the one in Shen Shuangyu’s possession was the only Phoenix Dance Gown left in the world.
Noticing Shen Zhaoli’s thoughts, Shen Shuangyu’s gentle face was filled with a smile.
“If you hadn’t come, I would never have been willing to bring out the Phoenix Dance Gown.”
“Since you like it, win it back yourself.”
Shen Zhaoli smiled slightly. “Since Aunt has said so, I shall join in the fun as well.”
As soon as the Phoenix Dance Gown was revealed, murmurs spread across the viewing terrace, everyone determined to claim it for themselves.
Su Qingxi’s eyes also held a trace of longing.
“Princess Changle, may I challenge you to a poetry duel?”
Su Qingxi’s voice was not loud, but it was clear enough for those on the high platform to hear.
Everyone was taken aback, their gazes toward Su Qingxi filled with disbelief.
Did this Miss Su know what she was doing?
Although Princess Changle had not attended banquets or composed poetry for many years, her extraordinary talent was renowned far and wide.
In the past, even the casual poems written by Princess Changle were highly praised by the talented scholars and ladies of Yujing.
Even great scholars had lauded Her Highness’s literary prowess.
“How dare she challenge Her Highness to a poetry duel? Isn’t she just inviting humiliation?”
Su Qingxi’s repeated disrespect toward Shen Zhaoli had long since annoyed Mi Ning.
Now, she could barely contain her anger.
“Miss Su, who taught you such manners, daring to place yourself on equal footing with Her Highness?”
“Her Highness is magnanimous and does not hold it against you, but that does not give you the right to overstep your bounds!”
“Our Princess’s talent is unparalleled. Why should she lower herself to duel poetry with you? Miss Su, please show some self-respect!”
Mi Ning was furious, her gaze toward Su Qingxi filled with utter disdain.
For a commoner to rashly challenge Her Highness was already an act of contempt for the royal dignity and an extreme offense.
Moreover, to do so in such a public setting—what was she trying to achieve?
Was she using Her Highness to gain attention?
Su Qingxi was momentarily stunned by the scolding. Clenching her sleeves tightly, her cheeks flushed crimson.
“No, that’s not what I meant…”
Before she could finish her explanation, Su Qingxi’s pride was wounded by Mi Ning’s contemptuous and disdainful gaze.
Was she, a commoner, unworthy of exchanging poetry with a princess?
Poetry knows no social rank, and literature has no hierarchy.
How could Princess Changle look down on her so?
“Princess Changle, if you refuse, is it because you are afraid?”
Su Qingxi trembled with nervousness, yet she stared steadily at Shen Zhaoli, raising her voice slightly so it clearly reached everyone’s ears.
Soon, the entire viewing terrace fell silent, so quiet one could hear a pin drop.
All eyes were fixed on the high platform.