Chapter 12

In the days that followed, Xiao Che changed.

He was no longer merely the emperor who came to eat my food. He began forcefully reforming the government: punishing corruption, promoting capable officials, reducing taxes and levies, repairing irrigation works.

Like a tireless spinning top, he drove Great Xiao in an entirely new direction.

He became so busy that sometimes he couldn’t come for meals. Wang Dequan had to carry them to the imperial study.

Occasionally, I slipped over to see him. Bent over mountains of memorials, brows tightly drawn, exhaustion lingering in his eyes.

For no reason I could name, my heart hurt.

I’d tell Xiaoyun to simmer a nourishing, calming soup for him, then leave quietly.

Our relationship had grown subtle. We seldom saw each other, yet cared for each other in our own way.

Noble Consort Ning visited a few times. She’d grown thinner. She said the emperor hadn’t set foot in the harem for a long time and asked what bewitching soup I’d given him.

I only smiled.

The empress dowager often summoned me too. She held my hand, taught me chess and reading, loved me like a daughter.

“Little Shu,” she told me, “my son is a good child. He suffered when he was young. Be kind to him.”

I knew everyone hoped I would accept Xiao Che.

Even I was beginning to waver.

My eyes followed him without my noticing. My heart rose and fell with his joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure.

Perhaps I really was beginning to fall for him.

Half a year passed in a blink.

Under his rule, Great Xiao had transformed. The treasury was full, the people secure, the realm at peace.

Then one day he said, “Jiang Shu, come out of the palace with me. I’ll show you the world I’ve worked to give you.”

19

We rode in the most ordinary carriage, both dressed in coarse commoners’ clothes.

He wasn’t the emperor. I wasn’t the imperial chef.

He was Xiao Che. I was Jiang Shu.

An ordinary married couple on an outing.

The capital’s streets were more prosperous than I’d imagined. Vendors called, children played, and the sweet scent of candied haws mingled with the toasted fragrance of roasted sweet potatoes.

That living, lively world felt wonderfully familiar.

He held my hand firmly, keeping me close so the crowds wouldn’t jostle me. His palm was warm.

We strolled like any other pair of lovers. He bought me a skewer of candied haws, sour and sweet, tasting of childhood.

I bought him a bowl of hot tofu pudding.

He’d never eaten it before. He tasted cautiously, then his eyes lit up.

“Good,” he told me seriously.

Like a child given sweets.

I couldn’t help laughing. So this was what he was like without his dragon robes.

A little adorable. A little foolish.

We walked down a long lane lined with ordinary homes. Warm light shone from each window. I heard a mother calling her child to dinner, a husband and wife arguing over whether the food was too salty.

Small, everyday sounds. They gave me a peace I’d never felt before.

At a little tavern, a storyteller was speaking about the reigning emperor. Spittle flying, he described the reforms, the lighter taxes.

His listeners were enthralled, every face bright with sincere smiles and respect.

“This emperor of ours is a true Son of Heaven!” a red-faced drinker shouted. “Since he took the throne, life for us common folk has got better every day!”

“Yes! Yes!” the others agreed. “We used to be taxed for everything. Now we can save a little!”

“They say he’s opened the government granaries. Even in a bad year, we won’t have to starve!”

“All thanks to His Majesty!”

I turned to Xiao Che.

He stood quietly in the shadows, listening, his face unreadable. But deep in his eyes was a light I’d never seen.

The profound satisfaction and pride of being loved by his own people.

In that moment, I understood.

Why he reviewed memorials late into the night. Why he exhausted himself each day.

He carried an entire realm, the well-being of countless people.

His empire wasn’t cold power.

It was these living, warm, hopeful homes.

We left the tavern and went on, eventually finding ourselves on a hillside outside the city.

Below us, lights shone in ten thousand homes like a sea of stars.

He stood beside me, looking at that scene of prosperity.

“Do you see?” he asked very softly.

“I do.”

“This is my realm. And the home I want to give you.”

He turned toward me. In the darkness, his eyes were brighter than the stars.

“Here, you can do whatever you wish. Open an eatery of your own. Teach anyone in the world who wants to learn to cook. Use your hands to warm more lives.

“And I’ll be your strongest support. I’ll protect all of it for you.”

His words struck hard at my heart.

I’d always thought freedom meant leaving. Going somewhere no one knew me and beginning again.

Only now did I realize that true freedom wasn’t escape. It was the right to choose, the power to make the world better.

And he was willing to place that power in my hands.

My eyes grew wet. I looked at the love and hope in his gaze.

The ice in my heart began to melt.

My answer was already on my lips.

“Xiao Che.”

For the first time, I called him by his name.

“I…”

Before I could finish, a brilliant pillar of fire rose from the distant palace.

Then frantic bells tore through the night.

Not the bells marking the hour.

The alarm for a palace coup.

20

Each peal shattered the capital’s stillness, and the tender warmth just beginning between us.

His face instantly went cold. The eyes that had been full of affection now held only sharp killing intent.

“Guards!”

At his low command, a dozen black-clad hidden guards flashed out of the dark, dropping to one knee in perfect unison.

“We were late to protect Your Majesty. Please punish us!”

“Spare us the nonsense.” His voice had no warmth. “What has happened?”

Their leader answered gravely.

“Prince Jing has joined forces with remnants from the Northern Frontier and launched a revolt while Your Majesty is outside the palace. They control the gates and are surrounding the Hall of Mental Cultivation. Her Majesty the empress dowager and Noble Consort Ning are trapped inside.”

Prince Jing.

Xiao Che’s paternal uncle, younger brother to the late emperor. An old fox who’d always concealed his ambitions.

His timing was vicious.

Without the emperor, the palace lacked a leader, and the capital’s defenses would inevitably fall into temporary confusion.

He was racing against time. Control the palace and the empress dowager, forge an edict, and he could claim the throne under a cloak of legitimacy.

A strike straight at the foundation.

“Where are Zhang Meng’s Imperial Guards?” Xiao Che asked coldly.

“The commander is leading his men in street fighting through the palace lanes. But the rebels are numerous and well equipped. His men may not hold much longer.”

Worse than I’d imagined.

“Your Majesty, go to the detached palace outside the city at once!” the guard leader urged. “As long as you survive, we can summon the armies of the realm and retake the palace!”

Xiao Che refused flatly.

“Our mother and our people are still inside. We’re going nowhere.”

He looked toward the pillar of fire, his eyes resolute.

“We’re going back. To kill them all.”

“Your Majesty, you mustn’t!”

The guards protested together.

“To return now is to walk into their trap!”

“You are too precious to risk yourself!”