Chapter 8

Lunch consisted of four dishes and a soup: squirrel-style mandarin fish in sweet-and-sour sauce, Dongpo pork, lightly stir-fried sprouts, and mapo tofu, followed by chicken soup gently simmered with bamboo fungus.

Every dish was a harmony of color, aroma, and flavor. The fish was especially striking: fried golden and crisp, carved and arranged with its head raised and tail lifted, almost alive. Glossy sweet-and-sour sauce covered it, sending up a seductive fragrance.

Xiao Che arrived on time. Wonder flashed in his eyes at the table before him.

“Let’s eat.”

He sat down and picked up his chopsticks. His first choice was the beautiful fish.

“Your Majesty, please stop.”

His chopsticks paused in midair. He looked up at me, puzzled.

Wang Dequan’s heart jumped into his throat again. What was this impossible woman about to do now?

I walked to the table, picked up the fish, and, before everyone’s eyes, tipped it straight into the refuse bucket in the corner.

Xiao Che’s expression darkened.

“Jiang Shu. What is the meaning of this?”

I knelt. It was the first time I’d paid him such formal respect.

“The dish is poisoned. Someone means to use my hands to harm Your Majesty.”

Everyone was horrified. Wang Dequan collapsed to the ground, limp with fear. A terrible murderous light appeared in the emperor’s eyes.

“Where is your proof?”

His voice seemed to rise from the depths of hell.

“Here.”

I told Xiaoyun to present the fish bones and poisoned needle.

“The poison is called Seven Steps to Collapse. A rare poison from the Western Regions, fatal once it enters the blood. It has neither color nor smell; mixed into food, it’s virtually undetectable. If I didn’t habitually separate every bone from the flesh when preparing fish, we might have had a disaster.”

I explained the sequence of events clearly. Naturally, I concealed my knowledge that Consort Xian was responsible.

Without conclusive proof, I couldn’t alert the culprit.

Xiao Che stared at the needle, its dark blue gleam reflected in his eyes. His presence grew colder and colder until the whole courtyard seemed frozen.

He said nothing. Everyone knew he was furious.

Not because someone wanted him dead—plenty of people did.

He was furious that someone had dared meddle beneath his very eyes with the little pleasure he’d just discovered.

They’d touched what must not be touched.

He gave his command.

“At your service!” Wang Dequan scrambled forward.

“Investigate. Thoroughly. We want to know exactly how that needle got into the fish. Whoever is behind this will wish they were dead.”

His voice wasn’t loud. Its force was thunderous.

Wang Dequan received the order and immediately led his men away.

Only the emperor and I remained in the courtyard, with a table of cooling food. The atmosphere was strained and oppressive.

I expected him to leave, his mood ruined. Instead, he quietly studied me, picked up his chopsticks, and put a piece of Dongpo pork in his mouth.

“This isn’t poisoned, is it?”

I blinked, then nodded to confirm it was safe.

“Good.”

He ate as though no one else existed, as though the terrifying attempt on his life had been some trivial comedy.

He enjoyed himself enormously and polished off the remaining three dishes and soup.

After wiping his mouth, he looked at me and said abruptly, “Thank you for today.”

I didn’t answer.

“Be careful yourself from now on,” he continued. “They won’t dare touch us, but they’ll touch you.”

“I know.”

“So…” His gaze was deep. “Move into the Hall of Mental Cultivation. Beside us is the safest place.”

13

An emperor’s pronouncement. Wealth and honor beyond measure.

And a splendid cage.

I looked at him. He wasn’t asking. He was informing me, as though from this moment he would take charge of my entire life.

Wang Dequan beside us was overjoyed. My ancestors must have blessed me. One leap into the emperor’s inner circle—more glorious even than becoming empress.

I couldn’t smile.

What difference was there between leaving the Cold Palace and entering a bigger cage?

“Your Majesty,” I said slowly, quietly but clearly, “this humble woman cannot go.”

Wang Dequan’s smile froze. The emperor’s brows drew together.

“Why?”

A single, emotionless question.

“The Hall of Mental Cultivation is the sovereign’s residence, the heart of the state. I’m only a disgraced consort convicted of wrongdoing. My presence there would be improper in both principle and standing. The court would accuse Your Majesty of neglecting your duties for the pleasures of the kitchen. It would harm your reputation.”

A thoroughly respectable excuse. One he couldn’t easily reject.

I knew his reputation as a wise ruler mattered most to him.

He looked at me as though trying to see through to my real thoughts.

I calmly held his gaze.

My real thought was this: I didn’t want to belong to anyone. Not even an emperor.

My little kitchen was my battlefield, my kingdom.

Here, I was queen.

“Very persuasive,” he said at last. “A speech improvised to refuse us.”

He’d seen straight through me.

I didn’t deny it.

“Then we’ll do this differently. From today, your courtyard is a restricted area. We’ll station the Palace Guards around it in layer after layer. Without our decree, not even a fly will get through. The Imperial Food Bureau will supply your ingredients to the highest standard. We’ll take personal responsibility for your safety.

“And you, Jiang Shu, are now our private imperial chef. You’ll cook for us alone.”

He gave me no choice. In his own fashion, he offered supreme protection I couldn’t refuse—and a gentle restraint I couldn’t escape.

What could I say?

“This humble woman obeys.” I lowered my head. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Only then did he nod in satisfaction.

He turned to leave, but at the gate stopped and looked back.

“One more thing. When you’re with us, say ‘I.’ We don’t like that ‘humble woman’ business.”

Then he strode away, leaving me alone in the courtyard.

The wind swept fallen leaves across the ground. I looked around this place, half familiar, half changed.

From today, nothing would be the same.

That afternoon, a solemn troop of gold-armored Palace Guards took over the entire Cold Palace. They drove Liu Fu away and replaced Zhang Meng’s patrol.

When Zhang Meng came to say goodbye, he looked as though life no longer held any meaning.

“Madam Jiang, we…”

I patted his shoulder.

“You’ll still get every dish I promised. I’ll speak to the Palace Guard commander. They can pass your portions along.”

He brightened immediately and thanked me profusely.

Next came workers from the Ministry of Works. Hammering and tapping, they renovated my dilapidated courtyard in a single afternoon. Even the kitchen doubled in size, with all its equipment replaced by the finest red copper.

At dusk, Noble Consort Ning arrived with gifts. Silk, brocade, jeweled hairpins—enough to cover a table.

“Jiang Shu, take these. You’re one of His Majesty’s people now; you can’t dress so shabbily. And I’ve already spoken to him. From now on, he’ll give all your leftovers to me.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Her mind certainly worked in unusual ways. Far from being jealous, she regarded me as her greatest shortcut to gaining an advantage with the emperor.

My life seemed to have entered some bizarre fast lane.

I still lived in the Cold Palace, yet I’d become the most unusual person in the entire imperial household.

Looking at my new kitchen and gleaming tools, I felt a surge of ambition.

If I couldn’t escape, I’d meet it head-on.

With my wok and ladle, I would stir up this secluded palace.

I would show everyone just how high a cook could rise.

For dinner, I made Xiao Che Buddha Jumps Over the Wall: luxurious ingredients, elaborate preparation, a dish worthy of the finest imperial table.

When the thick soup, bringing together treasures of mountain and sea, was set before him, astonishment flashed in his eyes.

He took a mouthful.

Then he looked at me and said something that caught me completely off guard.

“Come somewhere with us tomorrow.”