"Can't write a poem?" Shen Weiwan raised an eyebrow, and the crumbs of pastry fell on her bright pomegranate skirt. She said nonchalantly, "Last time I used a chamber pot, this time I might use the toilet! What are you afraid of!"

Before he finished speaking, a soft laugh rang out from outside the window. The Seventh Prince leaned against the sycamore tree, his moon-white cloak fluttering in the breeze. The food box in his hand was still steaming. He teased, "Miss Shen is indeed well-prepared. Does my lotus leaf roast duck suit your taste?"

"Just barely enough." Shen Weiwan playfully kicked open the carved window, and the sunlight instantly poured into the house and fell into her bright eyes. "Can I get gold melon seeds for writing a 'toilet poem'?"

Xiao Yu laughed out loud, and as he approached, his sleeves accidentally brushed against Jasmine on the windowsill, and his fingertips brushed the tassels in her hair. He said gently, "If you can make the emperor laugh, I will catch all the koi in the imperial garden to make amends." When he laughed, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes curved slightly, just like the butterfly with spread wings that Shen Weiwan had once drawn on the paper, beautiful and heart-warming.

On the day of the Dragon Boat Festival banquet, Chen Weiwan wore a brand new pomegranate-red dress with gold embroidery. The hem was embroidered with lifelike peonies in gold thread, swaying gently with her steps. Following the Seventh Prince, she gracefully entered the Hall of Supreme Harmony. Inside, the air swirled with the scent of sandalwood incense, its smoke curling through the bright yellow curtains. The golden brick floor reflected the color of the curtains, creating a solemn and luxurious atmosphere. All officials held their breath, as still as a butterfly folding its wings, their eyes fixed on this rumored "mudslide in the poetry world."

The Lius hid behind the white marble pillars, their eyes filled with pride and anticipation. Shen Ruoruo's fingertips, pinching her handkerchief, were turning blue, as if she had already witnessed Shen Weiwan's embarrassment. Mr. Zhou, the president of the Hanlin Academy, stroked his three-inch white beard with an arrogant look. The words "dung bucket" were faintly visible on his sleeve, waiting to see Shen Weiwan's joke.

The emperor behind the bright yellow curtains looked gentle and said with a smile, "I heard that Lord Shen can write poems about common things? Please use the title 'Toilet'!"

In an instant, the entire hall was frozen in silence, as if even time had stopped flowing, and even the crackling of the candlestick wicks could be clearly heard. Shen Wei twirled the Pisces jade pendant at her waist and suddenly grinned. That smile was brilliant and confident, and her voice was as clear as a copper bell on the eaves: "The toilet is round like a jade plate, and the royal demeanor is extraordinary—"

Dean Zhou snorted coldly, his white beard shaking in disdain: "It's just an ordinary fun..."

"If you ask what's on this plate?" Shen Weiwan suddenly raised her voice, the crisp sound startling the sparrows on the beams and making them flutter and fly away. "Fill it with ambergris!"

"Puff!" The Seventh Prince couldn't hold back, and the Biluochun tea he'd just drunk sprayed all over the table, leaving dark stains on the bright yellow tablecloth. The Emperor was startled at first, then he patted the dragon throne and burst into laughter, his laughter shaking the nine-dragon screen behind the throne. "What a 'Ambergris Cake'! A Jade Ruyi!"

When Liu heard this, she collapsed to the ground with a thud, her gold hairpins scattered all over the floor, her pearls and jade shattering on the gold bricks. She looked incredulous. Shen Ruorou screamed, but was held down by the swift-witted palace maid.

Shen Weiwan secretly gave the Seventh Prince a "yeah," her face brimming with triumphant joy. At that moment, her fingertips were suddenly enveloped by warmth—the Seventh Prince gently grasped her hand through his wide sleeves. The warmth of his palm, piercing through the three layers of brocade, made Shen Weiwan's heart skip a beat.

The sun was shining brightly outside the palace, casting dappled shadows on the golden bricks through the carved window lattices, like a beautiful painting. Shen Weiwan looked at the Seventh Prince, listening to her own heartbeat, which was even louder and more frantic than when she was composing poetry, and suddenly felt that this "mudslide in the poetry world" day, full of challenges and surprises, seemed particularly beautiful.