Chapter 5

Zhang Meng reached out with trembling hands to accept the bowl. He scarcely dared breathe, as though afraid of disturbing the divine creature inside.

He lifted a small piece to his mouth.

There was none of the chewing he’d expected. The meat seemed alive: the instant it entered his mouth, it melted into warmth scented with wine and pork and slipped down into his stomach.

Rich without being greasy. Tender enough to fall apart, yet holding its shape. Luscious without sticking to his mouth.

His eyes reddened.

This towering man, commander of the Imperial Guards, looked like a child with tears gathering in his eyes.

“Good… So good…”

Behind him, his men received their shares. Everyone fell silent. Only satisfied sighs remained in the courtyard. They ate slowly and reverently, as though savoring some priceless rarity.

A breeze carried the mellow fragrance deeper into the palace, over the Imperial Garden, past the Hall of Supreme Harmony, and finally through a half-open window.

In the imperial study, Emperor Xiao Che paused over his memorials, his vermilion brush suspended in his hand.

He lifted his head and sniffed, his brows drawing together.

“What is that smell?”

08

Xiao Che had reigned for seven years. Diligent in government, indifferent to women, he was a wise ruler in his ministers’ eyes and an iceberg in his consorts’.

His life ran like a finely calibrated machine. Day after day, mountains of memorials. Day after day, food from the imperial kitchens that hadn’t changed in decades: exquisite, correct, utterly predictable.

It had been a long time since he’d felt anything resembling appetite. Eating was simply a procedure required to keep his body functioning.

Yet now he could smell something unfamiliar.

Faint as it was, it teased his heart like a feather, sending a ripple across the still water of his mind.

“Wang Dequan.”

The chief eunuch beside him immediately bowed forward.

“At your service, Your Majesty.”

“Do you smell something?”

Wang Dequan sniffed cautiously.

Of course he did. He’d caught it while making his rounds that afternoon. It came from the Cold Palace. At the time, he’d wondered how such a dark, miserable place could produce anything so mellow.

He’d also heard the rumors. Noble Consort Ning went there every day now. Zhang Meng’s Imperial Guards had changed their patrol route to run outside its courtyard wall.

Matters involving the noble consort and the Imperial Guards weren’t things he dared gossip about.

He hadn’t expected the smell to reach the imperial study and attract the emperor himself.

“Your Majesty,” he answered carefully, head lowered, “it seems to be… stewed meat.”

“Stewed meat?” Xiao Che frowned harder. “Is that on the imperial kitchens’ menu today?”

“No, Your Majesty. No stews today.”

“Then where is it coming from?”

The emperor set down his brush and leaned forward. Something unexpected was happening in the palace under his control, and he didn’t like it.

Cold sweat broke out on Wang Dequan’s forehead. There was no hiding it now.

“I… I’ve heard…”

“Speak.”

The authority in that voice allowed no refusal.

Wang Dequan dropped to his knees.

“I’ve heard the fragrance comes from the Cold Palace.”

“The Cold Palace?”

Xiao Che was taken aback. He’d almost forgotten such a place existed. In his mind it was dark, damp, and hopeless. What connection could it possibly have with this warm, mellow fragrance?

“Go on.”

“I’ve heard a convicted woman there has extraordinary cooking skills. I don’t know when it began, but the aroma of her food carries for miles. Noble Consort Ning has humbled herself and traded a jade bracelet for a mouthful. Commander Zhang Meng brings a squad to patrol outside her wall every day just to buy some leftovers.”

He poured out everything he’d heard, then pressed his head to the floor, afraid to look at the emperor.

The study went silent.

Xiao Che said nothing. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk.

Tap. Tap.

Each beat landed on Wang Dequan’s heart.

Ning, his most favored consort. Zhang Meng, his most trusted guard commander.

Both bought by a mouthful of food from a criminal woman in the Cold Palace?

Absurd. Ridiculous beyond belief.

The disorder angered him. But more than anger, he felt a fierce curiosity.

What delicacy could make proud Ning abandon her dignity and iron-willed Zhang Meng forget discipline?

He wanted to know. To see for himself what kind of woman could stir up half the harem from inside the Cold Palace.

And whether her cooking truly possessed the soul-stealing power of that fragrance.

“Which consort is confined there?”

“The deposed Consort An, Your Majesty. Lady Jiang. She was banished a year ago.”

Lady Jiang…

He searched his memory. A delicate, unremarkable face soon surfaced. She’d resembled the late Empress Xiaoxian, a little.

Ning had made a tremendous fuss at the time. To soothe her, he’d found a pretext to send the woman to the Cold Palace.

And now, a year later, she had neither gone mad nor died. Instead, she’d created an entirely different life there.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

“Prepare to leave.” He stood. “I’ll go and see the Cold Palace.”

Wang Dequan blanched.

“Your Majesty, you mustn’t! It’s an ill-omened place, full of foul air. Your precious person—”

“Enough.” Xiao Che cut him off. “I’ve decided. And make no announcement. I’m merely taking a walk.”

He removed his dragon robes and changed into plain black clothes.

With the moon high overhead, he led Wang Dequan quietly toward that long-forgotten palace.

He very much wanted to know what secret it concealed.

09

At first light, a series of faint knocks woke me.

I frowned. Who could it be at this hour?

Xiaoyun passed her deliveries through the wall. Li Mao wouldn’t bring ingredients until sometime between seven and nine in the morning. Zhang Meng and his men wouldn’t arrive until dusk.

I put on an outer robe and went to the gate, wary.

Through the gap, I saw two men outside.

One was Wang Dequan, the emperor’s chief eunuch, whom I’d met yesterday. He was bent forward, his face covered in a flattering smile.

Before him stood a tall man in understated black clothes made from the finest cloud-patterned brocade. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face.

But that straight, pine-like figure and unmistakable air of nobility made my heart give a thump.