The Crown Prince, who hadn't heard Yun Chuhuan's running commentary, remained entirely unbothered.
With a posture that appeared humble at first glance—yet was laced with concealed pride—he gave a small gesture, signaling the eunuchs to lift the red cloth.
Beneath it was a base of green jade, upon which rested a piece of nearly translucent, powder-white stone.
"This is…"
Emperor Xuanwu leaned forward slightly to examine it more closely.
A pleased smile quickly bloomed across the Crown Prince's face.
"Replying to Father Emperor," the Crown Prince said, "this son once came across this natural jade purely by chance. It is not only lustrous and pristine in clarity—it holds a rare virtue: it required no carving by human hands. Formed over countless years, it absorbed the essence of heaven and earth, and came to resemble a peach of longevity.
The very moment I laid eyes on it, I knew it could belong to no one else but Father Emperor.
And so, this son has brought it today to offer blessings—may Father Emperor be blessed with eternal fortune and a life as enduring as the heavens."
"Excellent!"
A man hailed every day with cries of "ten thousand years of life" was, naturally, most pleased by such a symbol of longevity.
Emperor Xuanwu was delighted. After bestowing several trinkets upon the Crown Prince as reward, he allowed him to step down.
Next to step forward was the First Prince.
Though the autumn hunt had taken place some time ago, and Emperor Xuanwu's temper over the matter had long cooled, he still bore the lingering impression of the punishment he'd handed down.
Watching the First Prince now—newly returned to the capital just the day before, visibly thinner than before—Emperor Xuanwu could not help but wonder if he had been too harsh.
After all, this had been his firstborn son, a child he had once cherished deeply.
It was only later that…
The smile on Emperor Xuanwu's face faded slightly.
Just then, the gift the First Prince had prepared was brought forward.
"Why is it another pair of eunuchs?"
Yun Chuhuan muttered around a mouthful of pastry, voice thick with disbelief.
"Big Brother's even worse than the Crown Prince. Just a scroll, and he still has two people carry it? Their shoulders are practically bumping into each other—they can barely walk straight!"
Yun Shu said nothing.
After the Crown Prince's showy three-colored jade, she no longer dared to mock another's pomp so casually.
What if it turned out to be another priceless treasure?
Still, a painting wasn't quite the same as a chunk of jade. Anyone could tell that even an ancient scroll shouldn't require two people to carry it.
Yun Shu silently popped a piece of plum blossom pastry into her mouth, though her gaze remained fixed on the slowly unfurling scroll.
It was not what she had expected.
No masterful brushwork. No grand composition. No clever or profound artistic statement.
To Yun Shu's modern eye, it looked more like a chaotic tangle of scribbles—strokes scattered in every direction, neither words nor images properly formed. The page was so densely filled, it made her feel a creeping sense of unease, like the onset of trypophobia.
And yet… this very ugly thing brought out a spark in Emperor Xuanwu's expression—a joy even greater than when he'd received the carved jade peach.
"Is this… the Scroll of Ten Thousand People?"
"Replying to Father Emperor: it is indeed the Scroll of Ten Thousand People."
The First Prince stepped forward and bowed, gazing up at the throne with solemn reverence.
"When this son went to Nanyang Commandery to provide disaster relief at Father Emperor's command, I often saw the local citizens, kneeling in the mud, facing the direction of the capital, offering heartfelt thanks after receiving their rations.
However, once the crisis was managed, I had to hurry back to report, and could not remain there long.
It was only some days ago that I received this scroll, delivered by the people of Nanyang. They had asked me to pass it on as a token of gratitude.
They had felt the weight of imperial grace so deeply, they spontaneously organized themselves—household by household, family by family—to sign this petition, this humble offering of thanks.
Today, this son presents it not only on my own behalf, but on behalf of the hundreds of thousands of common folk in Nanyang, wishing Father Emperor enduring health and eternal peace."
"Excellent! You have shown true devotion, my son!"
If the Crown Prince's jade peach had flattered the throne, then the First Prince's gift had truly touched Emperor Xuanwu's heart.
After all, phrases like "life as long as the heavens" were lovely to hear but impossible to realize. No one lived forever.
But the recognition of one's deeds by the people—that could be recorded in the annals of history. That was a legacy that would endure.
Centuries or millennia from now, when scholars spoke of Emperor Xuanwu, they would praise his wisdom and benevolence.
The more Emperor Xuanwu thought about it, the more gratified he became. His gaze toward the First Prince softened further.
"You seem to have grown thinner from your time praying at Longhua Temple. We shall reward you with a five-hundred-year-old ginseng root."
"This son thanks Father Emperor for his boundless grace!"
Imperial Father even mentioned Longhua Temple—let alone gave him a personal reward—was a clear sign that his favor was beginning to return.
The First Prince was overjoyed, and bowed in deep gratitude.
With both the Crown Prince and First Prince presenting such meaningful gifts, it would now be difficult for any following them to outshine them.
Fortunately, the Third and Fourth Princes had a good sense of their own limitations. They had never intended to compete for the spotlight.
Their offerings were simple and proper. Though they did not stand out, there was nothing to criticize either.
Emperor Xuanwu offered them each a token reward and allowed them to return to their seats.
Then came Yun Shu's turn.
Unlike the lavish preparations of the Crown Prince or First Prince, Yun Shu's offering required only a single person to carry it.
There was no ceremony. No fanfare.
The red cloth was lifted, and what lay beneath was revealed: an unremarkable, utterly plain paperweight.
It was so lacking in distinction, it wouldn't fetch more than a tael of silver at any street market.
The Empress, already simmering with fury after seeing the First Prince's gift outshine the Crown Prince's, now saw Yun Shu—a girl she disliked just as deeply—walk right into her line of fire.
With a sweet, false smile, she spoke with pointed cheerfulness.
"A paperweight? Fifth Girl, you've certainly taken an unconventional approach with this gift. Yet my old eyes must be failing me. I cannot seem to tell which famed artisan crafted this piece?"
"It is natural that Empress Mother would not recognize it," Yun Shu replied, her tone modest and pleasant.
It was a performance, after all.
And she could act too.
Internally rolling her eyes, Yun Shu kept her expression perfectly composed, as if the Empress had never tried to threaten her at all.
"This paperweight truly is quite ordinary. It was something I grabbed on the spur of the moment. It is not the gift I meant to offer Father Emperor."
"Oh? Then what does Fifth Girl mean by this?"
The Empress raised her brow, her mockery growing sharper.
"Could it be that all the silver you earned laying floor heating these days has gone into that tavern you opened outside the palace? And now you've nothing left for a proper tribute to your Father Emperor?"
"Empress Mother has misunderstood."
Yun Shu turned around, picked up the plain paperweight from the tray, and passed it to the attending eunuch.
Then, from beneath it, she drew several thin sheets of paper.
"The paperweight is ordinary, because it was only there to hold down these pages."
"This," she said calmly, "is the true offering I prepared for Father Emperor."
The Empress blinked.
What… what in the world was this?
Had she just mocked the wrong thing?