"Does Grand Preceptor have any proof that this punishment copy was written by someone else?"
Though Yun Shu had indeed planned to have Liu Ziming help her copy it, the one in question was clearly the product of her own painstaking effort last night.
With full confidence, she turned Grand Preceptor Cui's own words from yesterday back on him.
"If Grand Preceptor is unwilling to teach me, he may go directly to Father and report it. Why resort to slandering me without cause?"
"When did this old subject ever—"
"What is it that needs reporting to Us?"
Just as the tension in the study reached its peak, a figure in brilliant yellow stepped through the doorway.
It was none other than Emperor Xuanwu himself.
Having remembered the report from the Dragon Shadow Guard after court that morning, the Emperor had grown curious about this supposedly useless daughter of his. He had come on a whim to see what truly made her so... unique.
He had halted the eunuch's announcement, intending only to observe quietly and leave. But he had not expected to overhear such an exchange right as he arrived.
He motioned for everyone to forgo the formalities, then casually glanced at Yun Shu, who had gone from spirited to meek in a heartbeat. Amused, he turned to Grand Preceptor Cui.
"We heard something about... wrongful accusation?"
"Your Majesty," Grand Preceptor Cui began, face stern. "Yesterday, this old subject tested the Fifth Princess's learning progress and discovered to his great dismay that despite having reached thirteen years of age, she had yet to even study the Great Learning or the Doctrine of the Mean. In sorrow, this subject ordered her to copy the Doctrine ten times as punishment."
Grand Preceptor Cui was known for his rigid nature and disdain for the idle nobility. Unfortunately for Yun Shu, she fit that mold far too well in his eyes.
With the Emperor's attention now on him, he chose his words carefully, with deliberate weight.
"Just now, Her Highness fell asleep during this old subject's lesson, claiming it was because she stayed up late copying scriptures. Yet the copy she submitted was clearly written by another hand, though she refuses to admit it."
"Oh?"
Emperor Xuanwu took the scroll Grand Preceptor Cui offered and scanned it briefly. His brow furrowed slightly, though he kept his expression neutral.
The writing was not the work of a master, but the strokes were bold and unrestrained, flowing with practiced ease. One could not produce such characters without a solid foundation.
He had not inquired into Yun Shu's situation last night after visiting the harem. Yet the Dragon Shadow Guard had reported that she had struggled to write even thirty characters...
Returning the scroll to Yun Shu, the Emperor did not speak with immediate judgment like Grand Preceptor Cui. Instead, his tone remained calm.
"What have you to say for yourself?"
"Father," Yun Shu replied, "proving this was written by me is simple. I can write a few characters right here in front of everyone."
She paused.
This was a rare opportunity, and judging by the Emperor's mood, he seemed at least somewhat favorable. If she did not seize the chance to gain something for herself, it would be a terrible waste.
Her expression shifted into one of indignation mixed with quiet resolve.
"But I refuse to be wronged for nothing. If I prove that I wrote these characters myself, then Grand Preceptor must excuse me from the remaining nine copies."
"Agreed."
The Emperor nodded without hesitation. He saw no guilt in Yun Shu's eyes, and that pleased him.
Grand Preceptor Cui, having fallen a beat behind, could no longer object. With a grim face, he fetched a brush from Cen Yiyi's desk and held it out.
"Please, Your Highness."
"I won't be using that."
Yun Shu remained unmoved and looked toward Emperor Xuanwu with a pleading gaze.
"Father, you only asked that this copy be written by my hand. You didn't specify with what, did you?"
"...What?"
"Was she saying... she wrote it with her feet?"
The Emperor blinked, pausing for a long breath. Considering her odd nature, it would not surprise him if that truly was what she meant. And if so, she would be in for far more than just ten copies.
"What do you intend to use?"
Yun Shu pulled something from her study box.
"A different kind of brush," she said.
It was a rooster feather.
"..."
Emperor Xuanwu stared in silence.
"Preposterous!" Grand Preceptor Cui, who had been holding back for some time, finally erupted. Upon seeing the chicken feather, his face twisted.
"Calligraphy is a refined pursuit. How can one use such... vulgar tools to write?"
"And what makes a rooster feather vulgar?"
Yun Shu raised her voice in protest.
"Aren't your calligraphy brushes made of wolf hair, rabbit hair, or goat hair? Are animal hairs to be ranked by nobility as well?"
"You—"
Grand Preceptor Cui had not seen such unorthodox conduct in years. As someone who upheld the dignity of scholars and their traditions, he was nearly fuming.
"How can those things be compared?"
"Why not?" Yun Shu replied. "Both come from animals, and both can write, can't they?"
As she spoke, she dipped the stiff, hollow shaft of the feather into ink.
"'What Heaven has decreed is called nature. To follow nature is the Way. To cultivate the Way is called education.'"
In just a few fluid motions, Yun Shu had written the opening line of the Doctrine of the Mean right before them.
Though the shape of the characters differed slightly from conventional brushwork, the strokes were smooth and continuous, full of vitality. It matched the handwriting on the punishment copy exactly.
"Well then, Grand Preceptor?"
"Hmph."
Grand Preceptor Cui turned away, flicking his sleeve in annoyance.
"Such petty tricks. This is not the conduct of a true gentleman."
"According to Grand Preceptor, a gentleman must neither do this nor that. Must he stand around all day in lofty pride?"
Yun Shu, seeing that Emperor Xuanwu did not immediately rebuke her, gained a bit more confidence.
"But who is born a gentleman? To become a scholar, mustn't one first learn to read?
How many people can afford to study these days? A single calligraphy brush costs enough to feed a commoner for days. But chicken feathers..."
"Well said!"
"...Huh?"
Yun Shu had certainly added a bit of righteous flair to her speech, hoping her father would recognize just how poor and neglected she was as a princess without powerful maternal kin or a steady stream of silver.
She had exaggerated, yes, but she had not expected Emperor Xuanwu to approve so readily.
A little flustered, she didn't know whether to continue... or hide under the table.
===
In Classical Chinese, 朕 (zhèn) is a first-person pronoun exclusively used by the emperor. It directly translates to "I", but it carries imperial authority. It's never used by ordinary people, only by the ruler.
Using "Us" (or "We") in this context mimics the royal first-person plural form that monarchs in many cultures, including England, use to refer to themselves. This is called the Royal We, or the majestic plural.
For example:
"We are not amused." — Queen Victoria
"We hereby declare…" — Royal proclamations
"What is it that needs reporting to Us?"— the emperor is speaking in a formal, authoritative setting, and "Us" emphasizes that imperial gravity. It makes the speech sound more regal and archaic.
"I" would be the literal translation of 朕, but it loses the elevated, imperial tone. It sounds too casual or modern.
"We" is a valid alternative in many historical translations, but in some imperial or classical phrasing in English, especially when phrased like a rhetorical question ("What is it you wish to report to Us?"), "Us" works better syntactically.
Just like in this chapter on this sentence:
"要向朕禀明何事啊?"
"What is it that needs reporting to Us?"
Or in the first chapter:
"朕听闻你和老四前不久刚从上书房结业了?"
"We heard that you and the Fourth Prince recently completed your studies at the Imperial Academy?"
This tone reinforces that the speaker is not just any person, but the Son of Heaven, the absolute sovereign, someone who does not refer to himself like commoners do.