Chapter 11

17

Tuoba Heng was the legitimate son of the Northern Frontier king, his future heir, famous for his unruly pride and martial prowess.

Now he sat frozen with a mouthful of vegetables.

Complex layers of savory sweetness rolled through his mouth like great waves. He’d tasted rare delicacies and drunk the strongest liquor, but never encountered flavor so pure and overwhelming.

It wasn’t seasoning. It was the natural sweetness of more than a dozen vegetables, awakened completely by that miraculous broth.

Fresh. Clean. With an endless finish.

He couldn’t help taking another mouthful. Then a third. A fourth.

In moments, he’d swept the little plate clean. He even lifted it and drank the last drop of broth.

Then he smacked his lips, wanting more, having entirely forgotten what he’d just said.

Everyone in the hall stared.

Then they began eating too.

Soon there was nothing but slurping and satisfied praise. The humblest mixed vegetables had conquered every palate and rescued the banquet’s atmosphere.

Behind the curtain, I let out a quiet breath.

First battle won.

Next came Emerald and White Jade Soup, made from winter-melon and spinach juices. Its presentation was delicate as a painting, its light flavor cleansing the palate for the main courses.

No guest dared underestimate it now. Wonder appeared on every face as they tasted it.

Then tofu with crab roe: golden roe, snow-white tofu, soft and savory, melting in the mouth. It brought the banquet to a new height.

Everyone’s appetite was awake. They began looking forward to the final main course, the one whose name had sounded most absurd.

“A Peaceful Nation, a Contented People.”

Pork, pickled greens, and glass noodles.

A staple of northeastern home cooking in my own time, and a specialty of mine in my previous life.

Ingredients were crucial. Skin-on pork belly, lean and fat interleaved. Naturally fermented, well-aged pickled greens, sour and crisp. Sweet-potato glass noodles that could withstand a long simmer, glossy and pleasantly chewy.

I took the ladle myself.

First, I seared the pork belly until the fat rendered and the edges turned golden. In went the greens, stir-fried to release their fragrance. Then stock and noodles, transferred to clay pots to simmer gently.

Pork fat, sourness, and noodle starch would come together perfectly in those pots.

When they reached the hall, everyone stared.

No exquisite decoration. Just steaming clay pots, honest and plain.

The instant their lids came off, a powerful aroma of ordinary, home-cooked life swept through the room.

It could awaken anyone’s deepest memories.

Home. Harvest. Reunion.

Tuoba Heng stared straight ahead. Coming from the bitterly cold northern frontier, he yearned for precisely this warmth and peace.

He didn’t wait for a maid to serve him. He stood and ladled himself a heaping bowl.

He took great bites of pork and mouthfuls of noodles, sweating freely and enjoying himself enormously. Between bites, he shouted indistinctly in his own language.

The interpreter hurried to translate.

“His Highness says, this is real food! This is a true great empire! He wants to take some home for his father to taste!”

His enthusiasm spread. Guests abandoned their reserve and rank, competing for the simple stew. Warm conviviality filled the hall.

On the dragon throne, Xiao Che smiled. He raised his wine cup toward the place behind the curtain where I stood.

I saw that Consort Xian was pale. The grand commandant beside her was livid.

They knew they’d lost.

Utterly.

The birthday banquet was a resounding success. In one battle, I’d made my name.

Xiao Che issued an edict appointing me Imperial Culinary Director, a substantive third-rank official, in charge of the Imperial Food Bureau and all meals in the harem.

He also granted me a golden token exempting me from kneeling. No kneeling before the sovereign, no prostration before the empress.

The decree shook both court and country.

A disgraced consort becoming a female official with real authority—nothing like it had happened since Great Xiao’s founding.

I became the most sought-after person in the palace. Countless flatterers came, only to be stopped at the gate by the Palace Guards.

My courtyard remained forbidden ground.

And I still cooked for just one person.

That night, Xiao Che came with a flask of wine and two cups. We sat facing one another at the stone table, moonlight pouring over us.

He sipped and looked at me.

“Thank you.”

“You’re too kind, Your Majesty. It was my duty.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not for winning the banquet. For showing me an entirely different world. A warm world, full of ordinary life.”

His gaze was gentler than I’d ever seen.

“I was thinking… if I weren’t emperor and you weren’t an imperial cook, if we were just ordinary people, how good that would be.”

My heart thumped. I raised my cup to hide my discomposure.

“Your Majesty, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not.”

He looked at me and spoke each word clearly.

“Jiang Shu. I want to make you empress.”

18

The words struck like thunder beside my ear.

My cup fell, shattering on the ground.

I stared at him, unable to believe it. His expression was serious—so serious it frightened me.

“Do you know what you’re saying?”

“Of course. I want you to be my wife. The most honored woman in this country.”

“No.”

The refusal escaped almost before I could think.

“Why?” He frowned.

“Because I don’t love you. And because I don’t want to be empress. I don’t want to spend my life shut inside these walls, fighting for favor and position. I want to live freely.”

Treasonous words. Words that could cost nine branches of a family their lives.

But I had to say them. I couldn’t deceive him, much less myself.

His face darkened. The pressure around him became oppressive.

“Freedom?” He laughed coldly. “No one in this world is truly free. I’m the Son of Heaven. I seem to possess everything, yet I have less control over my own life than anyone. Jiang Shu, you’re too naive.”

“Perhaps.”

I lowered my head.

“But I still want to fight for myself, just once.”

We reached an impasse, facing each other without a word. Only the night wind cried through the courtyard.

I didn’t know how long it lasted before he finally broke the suffocating silence.

“I can leave the choice to you. I’ll give you a year. In that year, I’ll show you the kind of world I can offer. I’ll make you fall in love with me willingly.

“If, after a year, you still don’t want this, I’ll let you go. Give you back your freedom.”

I was shaken again. I hadn’t expected such a concession.

How much generosity and resolve did it take for an emperor to promise a woman this?

And how much love?

My heart was in turmoil.

“Your Majesty, you…”

“Enough.”

He stood.

“My word is binding.”

Then he left the courtyard. In the moonlight, his back looked lonely, with the determination of a man staking everything.

I looked at the shattered porcelain.

I didn’t sleep that night.

A great upheaval struck the court.

The grand commandant’s faction was rooted out for colluding with foreign envoys at the birthday banquet and leaking military secrets. Consort Xian was stripped of her title and confined to the Cold Palace, never to leave.

The speed and force of it caught everyone unprepared.

I knew this was Xiao Che’s warning.

He could sweep away every obstacle.

And he could protect whomever he chose.