Volume One: The Youngest Among Three Hundred Chapter Fifty-One: Subtle Provocation

As time passed, dazzling beams of light shot into the dim night sky, extinguishing the lanterns, bursting forth into ever more vibrant streaks and colorful ribbons, weaving together an enchanting sea of blossoms. As the previous wave of fireworks faded, new bursts followed closely, layering upon each other in a magnificent display.

"Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh..."

Suddenly, eight bamboo tubes launched eight brilliant, dazzling points of light, drawing everyone's attention, breathless and on tiptoe with anticipation.

"Bang!"

"Pop!"

"Fsshh!"

A few seconds later, the eight radiant points exploded simultaneously, illuminating the night sky with eight grand characters proclaiming the eternal unification of the empire. Even from hundreds of meters away, this spectacular scene was all that remained in everyone's eyes.

Prime Minister Zhang Huai-min gazed upward, serene and moved. "If every corner of Chang'an could rise with such wonders, that would be true flourishing."

The Crown Prince Zhao Yan-kang, who once believed his novel birthday painting would win the Empress's favor, now felt uncertain. "How... how is this done? It's incredible! Truly miraculous!"

The other princes and princesses, who had just mocked Changning and anticipated her disgrace, now looked as uncomfortable as possible. Was not the gift of bamboo tubes supposed to anger the Empress, leading to her removal as princess? Why had events unfolded so differently? Whence came such magical bamboo tubes?

Meanwhile, Yongle stood quietly at her original spot, her expression unchanged but her heart surging with excitement and, admittedly, discomfort. She realized she had misjudged Changning. Changning had prepared meticulously.

"She must be feeling so wronged right now," Yongle's gaze lowered.

The foreign envoys stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as if awaiting a meal, utterly astonished. Living in distant borderlands, they were used to desolate smoke and long rivers at sunset, never having witnessed such a sight.

When the Dayang Palace first lit its lanterns, the grand display of thousands of colorful lanterns strung for hundreds of meters had already left them awestruck. Now, the clustering fireworks bursting forth in streams of light seemed almost beyond belief—was such beauty truly possible in the mortal world?

"No wonder it's the Celestial Empire, no wonder! Such beautiful scenery, even their bamboo tubes are wondrous," exclaimed Yano Jinsei, the representative from the small island nation, in halting official language.

Guba, the leader from the Mongol nation, breathed heavily. "The Celestial Empire's bamboo tubes are truly extraordinary. We must request some to take back for our Khan and people to see."

While all the envoys were shaken and chattering, Hu Dong, the leader from the Yuezhi nation, remained silent, pondering deeply. "The Grand Min dynasty is indeed as the king claimed—blessed with treasures and wise people, even a bamboo tube is magical. But the more so, the more I must test their pride tonight."

At the forefront, atop the observation platform, Empress Bai Mo spread her arms wide, gazing at the eight characters shining in the night sky, her eyes alive and her heart soaring. Nine years on the throne, only now did she feel the true majesty of commanding the realm.

Now, she truly felt that the Grand Min was a flourishing dynasty, Chang'an a bustling capital, and all officials and peoples of the four seas were hers to command.

Her wide golden sleeves embroidered with dragons waved, Bai Mo in high spirits, and Feng Yuan-yi and her favored consort Zhang Youzhi watched her from either side, moved by the sight.

This Empress of Grand Min had not been so happy for a long time.

"Marvelous! Such a proclamation of eternal unity!"

Reluctantly drawing her gaze from the resplendent night sky, Bai Mo looked toward Changning's place. "Ning'er, your birthday gift is my favorite."

She had intended to apologize, knowing Changning must have felt wronged and aggrieved just now, but as Empress, she must always maintain authority and could not admit fault in front of so many. She would have to comfort her privately. To express her fondness for Changning's gift was already a mark of special favor.

Yet Changning felt no joy or vindication—only stunned disbelief. Her clear, glass-like eyes hollowly turned toward Chen Chang'an, dressed as a woman, as her own voice echoed repeatedly in her mind.

"His fireworks truly became Mother's favorite birthday gift?"

"His fireworks truly became Mother's favorite gift!"

"His fireworks really..."

Meanwhile, Chen Chang'an, utterly smug, punched his right chest where he kept his tangerines.

Bai Mo, thinking Changning was deliberately turning away in a huff, softened her tone. "Ning'er, what are these bamboo tubes called? How are they so wondrous and beautiful?"

"Eh-hem!" Chen Chang'an coughed lightly in reminder.

Changning snapped back, replying, "To answer Mother, these are not ordinary bamboo tubes. My mute maid Xiao An had a sudden inspiration and, together with Master Mao Ji, created these fireworks."

The Crown Prince Zhao Yan-kang's eyes narrowed, his lips twitching.

"So that's it!"

Bai Mo nodded. "No wonder you brought her into the palace for the birthday feast and had her operate the display. Very thoughtful. Xiao An and Mao Ji will be richly rewarded. Mao Ji truly deserves his reputation as our Grand Min's master artisan!"

She then looked out at the hundreds of officials and envoys, announcing in a clear voice, "The fireworks show is over. Return to Taihe Tower, and let the feast continue!"

Everyone then returned to the top floor of Taihe Tower in order—princes and princesses, ministers, foreign envoys—each taking their seats, many still lost in the lingering beauty of the fireworks, unable to calm their minds.

Yano Jinsei, the island nation's representative, even sneaked over before returning, picked up two spent bamboo tubes still smoking faintly, and tucked them into his robe.

"Such marvelous bamboo tubes—I'll take them back for study!"

Once all were seated in Taihe Tower, Bai Mo, smiling, declared, "Let the feast continue. Please, everyone, begin!"

No sooner had she spoken than Hu Dong, the Yuezhi nation's representative, rose and stepped to the center, bowing deeply. "Your Majesty, envoys from afar have come not only to celebrate your birthday, but also with another matter."

The ministers and royal kin, just picking up their chopsticks, paused and set them down. Hu Dong's move was entirely unexpected, unprecedented in previous birthday festivals, and could be considered disrespectful to the Empress.

To bring up other matters at a birthday feast—was this reasonable?

It was not.

Feng Yuan-yi frowned slightly.

Bai Mo, aware of the envoy's lack of propriety, was nonetheless in excellent spirits after the fireworks and asked, "Envoy from Yuezhi, what is it?"

Hu Dong bowed, his prominent features displaying a subtle smile. "Your Majesty, last month a sage passed through our capital, Turuo City, leaving behind a poetic couplet: 'Slice the melon, divide the guests—seven horizontal cuts, eight vertical cuts.' He then departed, riding the clouds. Our people wish to know the matching line, but, being in the remote frontier and only recently introduced to literature, we lack scholars capable of answering. Thus, we seize this birthday festival to seek guidance from Grand Min."

When he finished, the atmosphere subtly shifted, especially among the literary ministers led by Zhang Huai-min and Grand Tutor Hong Cheshou, their faces cold.

Could they not recognize the hidden intention? This was no mere request—the envoy had found a brilliant couplet, aiming to embarrass Grand Min in front of the assembled nations. Yuezhi's motives were hardly innocent!

Standing quietly beside Princess Changning, Chen Chang'an raised an eyebrow, a faint smile curling on his lips. He recognized the couplet from the interesting classroom notes in his previous life's history textbooks.

Bai Mo sensed the challenge: Grand Min lacked not for scholars, especially in Chang'an, famed for poetry and prose. She turned to the ministers, saying, "Since our guests seek knowledge, do not hesitate to teach them."

Yet dozens of ministers remained silent. Usually quick to criticize colleagues, now they were uncommonly quiet, none stepping forward, not even the universally acknowledged scholar Grand Tutor Hong Cheshou.

They could see the uniqueness of the couplet: "Slice the melon, divide the guests—seven horizontal cuts, eight vertical cuts." Clearly a character-dissection riddle, where "slice" is seven horizontal strokes, "divide" is eight vertical strokes. Such clever couplets, based on structure and meaning, are notoriously hard to answer.

Ministers ducked their heads, pretending to pick up dropped chopsticks or holding their brows in deep thought, deftly avoiding Bai Mo's gaze. Grand Tutor Hong Cheshou scratched his head in frustration, his gray hair falling out.

He knew that failure to answer would damage Grand Min's dignity and prestige. Yet, try as he might, no suitable reply came to mind.

Bai Mo was both angry and disappointed. They were skilled at composing flattery and praise, but in a critical moment, all useless. Yet she could not urge them, lest it seem desperate to outsiders.

She clenched her fists inside her wide dragon sleeves, fixing her hopes on Hong Cheshou.

Chen Chang'an watched the ministers with amusement, reaching into his left chest for a tangerine, peeling and eating it segment by segment. He planned, if no one could answer, to step in himself.

Or rather, speak up.

Just as he reached the third segment, a man in crimson official robes stood and raised his hand. "Let me try!"