"Lamb intestines here! Freshly cooked lamb intestines, thick soup that clings to the bowl, piping hot and fragrant!"
"Four-flavor dish! Meatballs, gluten, crispy fried pork—add as much flatbread as you want, absolutely delicious!"
"Fried dough fritters are ready! Crispy and savory fried dough fritters, just out of the oil!"
In the late autumn of Bianjing City, the fierce heat of autumn had already faded. The sunlight lazily draped over the towering gatehouse, faintly illuminating the large, orderly copper nails on the doors and casting a reddish glow on the tips of autumn grass clinging to the crevices of the city wall’s blue bricks.
By the city gate, stalls lined up one after another. Vendors, bundled in tattered cotton jackets and shoes, tucked their hands into their sleeves and belted out their singsong cries in loud, resonant voices, turning the surroundings into a lively, bubbling cauldron of noise.
The Great Song Dynasty had long engaged in trade with the Liao and Jin dynasties, and foreign-style clothing remained popular. Xi Feijing, accompanied by only two personal guards, had removed his armor and now wore a narrow-sleeved brocade robe with a fur-trimmed collar and a deer-leather foreign cap, leisurely standing under the gatehouse while munching on a lamb pancake.
Having spent years at the border, his skin had turned coppery and rough, making him resemble the horse traders who frequently traveled between the frontier and Liao territories.
The pancake vendor noticed nothing unusual, though between flipping pancakes, he couldn’t help stealing glances at the merchant’s two towering, coal-black attendants, muttering to himself: "Where did this gentleman find such servants? They look like two lumps of charcoal forged in a coal pit—downright terrifying!"
After finishing two pancakes, Xi Feijing dusted off the crumbs with satisfaction, had his guards settle the bill, and strolled leisurely toward the Jade Garden.
Along the way, he brushed past peddlers pushing carts or carrying loads on shoulder poles. Merchants herded mules and camels, steadying towering piles of goods on their animals’ backs, shouting for passage as they squeezed past him with difficulty.
The air was thick with a medley of smells—the dung of cattle and horses, swirling dust, and the wafting aromas of food from the stalls beneath the gatehouse—all blending into a chaotic yet oddly comforting cacophony of scents.
He couldn’t remember how many years it had been since he last tasted the lamb pancakes outside the South Gate. This rare return trip had at least satisfied his cravings.
Summoned to the capital under secret decree, Xi Feijing couldn’t make his presence known and had to postpone returning home, lodging instead at an inn with his men. Yet, when leaving the city, he couldn’t resist stopping by the steaming griddle to buy a few pancakes, sharing them with his guards.
The desolate silence of Youzhou’s snow-covered wilderness contrasted sharply with the capital’s bustle, leaving him with a surreal sense of having stepped into another world.
After just a few steps, Xi Feijing spotted a familiar figure—a tall, burly back clad in an unremarkable brown robe, standing among a crowd buying stewed lamb soup. Even in the throng, Xi Feijing recognized him instantly.
Narrowing his eyes, he signaled to his guards and, shielded by the flow of people, stealthily closed in from the side.
The two "charcoal-black" guards moved soundlessly, seamlessly covering their general’s mischief.
Xi Feijing was just a step away, his ghostly hand reaching for the money pouch at the man’s waist—when, as if he had eyes on his back, the man’s hanging hand suddenly twisted like an iron clamp, poised to seize Xi Feijing’s wrist.
Fortunately, Xi Feijing reacted just as swiftly. Sensing danger, he retreated in a flash, his figure darting back three paces like the wind.
The man grabbed at empty air, then turned around calmly. "Xi Feijing, you're still as sneaky as ever."
Xi Feijing wasn’t the least bit embarrassed by his failed ambush. He grinned like a fox. "Yue Teng, long time no see. Your ears are still as sharp as ever."
Yue Teng pointed wordlessly at the vendor's clear-braised pork offal soup pot in front of him. The vendor’s skill was remarkable—the bone broth was fragrant without being greasy, so clear it reflected like a mirror. Xi Feijing realized then how he’d been caught. A miscalculation on his part.
His smile widened. "Finished your soup, Yue Teng? Care to join me at Yujin Garden?"
"Let’s go." Yue Teng didn’t bring his guards. He counted out twenty copper coins, left them on the stall, and walked side by side with Xi Feijing.
Years had passed since they last met, leaving them momentarily at a loss for words. Xi Feijing was the first to speak, nostalgia coloring his tone. "Has it been four years since we last saw each other?"
Yue Teng kept his gaze forward. After a long pause, he replied, "Two. The year before last, during the joint military drills in the northern deserts. I caught a glimpse of you from afar, past that gaudy banner of your central army. Couldn’t see clearly—just some slouching figure lounging in the commander’s chair. That was you, wasn’t it?"
"You have the nerve to bring that up? You’re the one who shot me off my horse with an arrow and nearly wrecked my back! Of course I was slouching!" Xi Feijing was still indignant.
Every few years, Youzhou and Yanzhou would conduct joint military exercises. The rules were simple—overwhelm the enemy’s central army and seize their banner to claim victory.
Xi Feijing was a born unorthodox tactician, full of crafty schemes and utterly disinterested in facing Yue Teng head-on. When studying military strategy, he had always admired the lightning-fast tactics of the Western Han generals Wei Qing and Huo Qubing. But every commander had their own style, and in Xi Feijing’s hands, even the most brilliant strategies took on a distinctly roguish flavor.
Yue Peng once remarked that Xi Feijing’s signature long-range flanking maneuvers and unpredictable movements served no real strategic purpose—they existed purely to infuriate the enemy. As a result, his tactics often baffled conventional minds.
To put it bluntly, Xi Feijing was the type who’d climb through a window just because the door was too ordinary. His first taste of fame came as a flank commander under General Xi, leading a raid deep into the grasslands to harass enemy reinforcements—playing the role of an insufferable nuisance.
General Xi had only tasked him with diverting the Khitan tribal forces under the Liao’s Northern Administration, buying time for the central army. But Xi Feijing treated it like a game of cat and mouse—burning supplies, ambushing mid-crossing, feigning attacks, launching night raids—always striking and vanishing before the enemy could react.
Not content with mere victory, he penned a gloating, sarcastic letter, copied it a dozen times, and shot the copies into the enemy camp with arrows.
The sheer audacity of it sent the Right Virtuous King Yelü Yi—who had studied Han language—into such a rage that his old wounds flared up, and he dropped dead on the spot.
General Xi was a master of defense and a man of integrity. That he had sired such a cunning, rule-breaking son often made him lament the early deaths of his two elder sons. With the family’s future in this scoundrel’s hands, he feared ruin was inevitable.
Xi Feijing didn’t just send others to carry out his sneak attacks—he was too restless to stay put. Every time, he led the charge himself.
His clash with Yue Teng during the drills was no exception. He left the central army to his deputy and eagerly led a detachment to ambush Yue Teng—only to find that Yue Teng knew him too well and had already set a trap.
Xi Feijing found himself surrounded, yet he refused to surrender. The training weapons—blunt arrows and unsharpened blades—were harmless in theory, but the hand-to-hand combat was far from gentle. It still hurt!
With the help of his two towering, battle-hardened personal guards, he fought his way out of the encirclement. Bitter over his losses, he secretly set a fire upwind, hoping to exploit the chaos to break through Yue Teng’s central forces.
But Yue Teng remained unshaken. He stood, drew his bow, and loosed three arrows in quick succession. Through the thick smoke and from a hundred paces away, two found their mark—Xi Feijing’s warhorse.
Even without arrowheads, the shafts sank two inches into the horse’s legs, sending it rearing with a panicked whinny. Xi Feijing was thrown, his back cracking as he landed hard.
Humiliated right at the enemy’s doorstep, he had to be carried away by his guards under cover of the smoke, slinking off in disgrace. But he wasn’t done. That night, he launched a sneak attack, overrunning Yue Teng’s rear guard and seizing over a dozen decoy supply carts.
No wonder Yue Teng always called him a petty thief.
Xi Feijing wore the insult as a badge of honor. After all, Yue Teng was someone he deeply admired.
Unlike Xi Feijing, who came from a long line of military leaders, Yue Teng was the genuine son of a farmer. Until the age of twenty, he had tilled fields and herded cattle. At twenty-one, he and his elder brother enlisted as common foot soldiers. Through sheer grit, he rose from the ranks to become a general.
During the previous emperor’s reign, the Song Dynasty was militarily weaker than the Liao and Jin, and border conflicts were frequent—losses outnumbered victories. At their lowest point, they nearly lost two entire provinces.
Yue Teng was only a deputy commander then. His superior, General Zhong, had already fallen in battle. Assuming command in desperation, Yue Teng first rallied the scattered remnants of General Zhong’s forces, retreating to Yanzhou to regroup for three days. Then he wrote to Xi Feijing, borrowing ten thousand Youzhou troops and a hundred thousand dan of provisions. Fully prepared, he launched a counterattack.
Against all odds, he reclaimed the lost territories and even pushed beyond the Great Wall, threatening the Jin-occupied six counties of Xiangzhou.
Yue Teng was just twenty-eight at the time.
From then on, the Yue Army stood guard in Yanzhou. As long as their banners flew atop the city walls, the Jin dared not venture south—not even to graze their horses. If starvation drove them close, they’d sneak in like timid dogs, snatching a few mouthfuls of grass before scurrying back before the defenders noticed.
Yue Teng, raised in poverty, couldn’t tolerate Jin horses stealing Song grass. He nearly took Xiangzhou outright.
Then disaster struck at home.
As news of Yue Teng’s victory at Xiangzhou reached the capital, chaos erupted. The ailing emperor lay unconscious, and Prince Jin, seizing the chance to usurp the throne, allied with several powerful families to stage a coup. They imprisoned Crown Prince Zhao Boyun in the Southern Palace and confined the Empress Dowager in Baoci Palace.
The young emperor, only eighteen, ordered his trusted eunuch Liang Qian to dig a doghole and crawl out, risking his life to contact the crown prince’s surviving officials. Through the sacrifice of countless loyalists, they smuggled out the imperial tiger tally and two edicts from the crown prince.
The first commanded General Xi and Xi Feijing to fortify the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun against opportunistic invasions by Liao and Jin, prioritizing the defense of the homeland.
The second summoned Yue Teng to lead his army back to the capital in haste.
At the time, Prince Jin already commanded a hundred thousand imperial guards. But when the thunderous sight of Yue banners fluttering fiercely in the wind appeared beneath the walls of Bianjing City, even he grew afraid. Not just him—some of the imperial guards even defected at the sight of those banners. Prince Jin sent bribes to Yue Teng and attempted negotiations, but no amount of temptation worked. Enraged and humiliated, he took Yue Teng’s eldest brother hostage, dragging him atop the city walls to force Yue Teng’s surrender.
Yue Teng’s parents had long passed, leaving only this elder brother who had fought alongside him on the battlefield, saving his life countless times in dire straits. Yue Peng, the eldest brother, had lost both arms in battle before being ordered back to the capital for treatment and recuperation.
Unwilling to burden his younger brother, Yue Peng threw himself upon the blade and died.
Afterward, Yue Teng led his ironclad army, smashing through all nine gates of Bianjing, his spear dripping with blood as he escorted the Emperor to the throne.
The Emperor intended to bestow upon him the title of "Loyal and Martial Prince," but Yue Teng declined outright. He bluntly told the Emperor that his temperament was too unyielding for court politics—he wished only to serve as the Great Wall, defending the Song dynasty’s borders with his life.
He wanted to return to Yanzhou. The Emperor had no choice but to reward the Yue Army lavishly and grant him the honorary title of Junior Guardian of the Crown Prince—though, at the time, the Emperor’s eldest son was still in swaddling clothes, making the title purely ceremonial.
Xi Feijing had been hailed as a prodigy since childhood, reading military treatises by age three and riding into battle under General Xi’s guidance by ten. He had been force-fed tactics and strategies by his elders, yet deep down, he knew—he was no match for Yue Teng, who had grown up untamed and battle-hardened.
In his life, Xi Feijing had never truly admired anyone.
Except Yue Teng.
He had no choice but to acknowledge him.
Especially since Yue Teng was not only far younger but also strikingly imposing—those sword-like brows, tiger-like eyes, and an unshakable aura of righteousness… Hmph. Just slightly more handsome than him.
Yue Teng’s command mirrored his character—strict discipline, absolute obedience. The Yue Army adhered to the creed: "Freeze to death rather than dismantle homes for firewood; starve to death rather than plunder." They stood as the Song dynasty’s sturdiest shield, their tactics bold yet adaptable.
Unlike Xi Feijing, who excelled in lightning raids, the Khitans and Jurchens who lost to him would seethe with resentment, itching for revenge. But against Yue Teng and the Yue Army—solid as a mountain range—the Khitans and Jurchens reached a rare consensus: Don’t provoke him. Why would you even try?
He was the Song dynasty’s unstoppable greatsword, striking such terror into the enemy that the mere sight of his banners sent them fleeing in panic.
As Xi Feijing reminisced, his indignation flared anew. He nudged Yue Teng with his elbow. "Forget the provisions—when are you returning the ten thousand Youzhou troops you borrowed when you called for reinforcements?"
Yue Teng feigned ignorance. "General Xi gifted those to me. They weren’t borrowed."
"Nonsense! I still have your request for troops!"
"Next time. I’ll return them next time," Yue Teng mumbled evasively.
Troops weren’t something you "borrowed."
"See? See this? The Emperor always says you’re straightforward and I’m the cunning one, but you’re the wolf in sheep’s clothing! We should go before him right now and settle this—then my innocence will be proven!"
"Xi Sanlang, how old are you, still running to the Emperor to whine? Not weaned yet?" Yue Teng maintained his righteous expression, infuriating Xi Feijing without batting an eye, while subtly quickening his pace.
Xi Feijing nearly exploded with rage.
"Yue Er! Don’t you dare run!"
Yue Teng ignored him, walking even faster.
The two men chased and playfully fought their way to Yujin Garden, where they happened to encounter Liang Qian accompanied by a young woman dressed in commoner’s attire and two attendants. Immediately, they restrained their playful demeanor and greeted Liang Qian with respectful clasped fists, saying, "Eunuch Liang, it’s been years! How is your health holding up?"
Had it not been for Liang Qian’s efforts in rallying the palace eunuchs to collaborate from within and secretly digging a dog hole to deliver messages for the Emperor, the throne might now be occupied by treacherous usurpers. As an elder entrusted to the current Emperor by the late sovereign, Liang Qian had served two generations of rulers with unwavering loyalty, deserving nothing less than their full respect.
Liang Qian quickly stepped aside and bowed deeply, clasping his hands in return. "I dare not accept such courtesy from the two generals. His Majesty has been delayed by some trivial matters. Please, enter the garden for tea—the banquet will begin shortly."
With that, he led the young woman and her attendants to the side, gesturing for Xi Feijing and Yue Teng to proceed first. "Generals, after you."
Xi Feijing and Yue Teng nodded, exchanging a glance. Both had already begun to speculate about the Emperor’s sudden summons. They followed the invitation and stepped inside.
Just as they entered, the sound of rapid hoofbeats approached from behind, followed by a carriage screeching to a halt at the garden’s entrance.
A square-faced youth leaned out eagerly, pulling the carriage curtain aside and waving excitedly at the two men. His tone was warm and familiar: "General Yue! Young General Xi! Wait for me!"
Shen Miao had been hiding nervously in a corner with Tang Er and Fu Xing, but at the sound of those names, her ears perked up: Xi? Could it be the same Xi family as the one related to the eldest daughter of the Xie family? That surname isn’t common—what a coincidence!
And General Yue… She swallowed hard, her heartbeat quickening. She wanted to look up, but before she could, she saw Liang Qian already bending at the waist, lifting his robes to kneel. "Greetings to Prince Lu."
This little dark-skinned, chubby fellow is Prince Lu? That title… isn’t he the Emperor’s only surviving brother?
Shen Miao was startled again and instinctively moved to kneel, but then she heard the young prince’s cracking adolescent voice dismiss the formality: "No need, no need."
Relieved, Shen Miao gave a slight bend of her knees before straightening up, sneaking a glance ahead.
Two towering, imposing middle-aged men and a sturdy, dark-skinned youth walked a few paces apart, guided by palace attendants into the garden.
She didn’t catch their faces, but their voices carried.
Prince Lu trailed after the two generals like an eager puppy, pestering them in turn: "General Yue, can I go with you to Yanzhou to fight the Jin dogs? Please! If not, Young General Xi, take me instead—I’ll fight the Liao dogs too!"
"Your Highness, war is no game. Blades and arrows have no eyes—neither the Empress Dowager nor His Majesty would permit it," came Yue Teng’s patient reply.
"Your Highness, what do you mean ‘if not’? Am I just a substitute for General Yue in your eyes?" Xi Feijing’s tone turned mock-wounded.
"That’s not what I meant! You’re both pillars of the state, the finest generals in my heart! I just want to see Yanzhou first, then Youzhou—"
"Ah, I’m no match for General Yue. I understand."
"...Young General Xi, could you please read fewer romance novels? The way you talk gives me gooseblesh."
After that, their voices faded into the distance.
Liang Qian cautiously waited until all the distinguished guests had walked away before straightening his posture. He turned to Shen Miao, who seemed lost in thought, Tang Er, who stood dumbstruck, and Fu Xing, whose legs were trembling, and said, "Madam Shen, let us hurry inside as well."
Only then did Shen Miao clearly realize for whom she was to cook.
On the way here, she had wondered which noble from the imperial court Liang Qian served as an attendant, and which imperial relative was hosting the banquet.
Now it was all clear—it was the one person among all the esteemed figures she had speculated about, the one she had dared not guess, and the most exalted of them all!
Tang Er and Fu Xing asked in quivering voices, "Madam Shen, what do we do? We never imagined we'd be preparing an imperial feast in this lifetime!"
With their rough hands and clumsy movements, how could they possibly cook for the emperor?
Shen Miao thought to herself—she had never done it either.
"Don’t be afraid," she reassured them calmly. "I’ll take charge of the cooking. Just assist me as you would in our own kitchen. I don’t think His Majesty summoned us to taste palace cuisine—he must want something different. Let’s proceed as usual."
Tang Er and Fu Xing leaned on each other for support. Seeing Shen Miao’s composure, their wildly unsettled hearts gradually steadied. Wiping the cold sweat from their brows, their legs finally stopped shaking, and they followed Shen Miao into the imperial kitchen of the Jade Spring Garden.
Inside, numerous attendant cooks were already waiting. Upon seeing Liang Qian enter with them, they all bowed respectfully.
Liang Qian sternly instructed the kitchen staff to obey Shen Miao’s every command without fail, lest they disrupt His Majesty’s important affair. Then, turning to Shen Miao, he spoke gently, "Madam Shen, I entrust this to you. It’s been arranged hastily, so I apologize for the burden."
"It’s my duty. Rest assured, Eunuch Liang, I’ll begin at once." Shen Miao tied up her sleeves with a sash, wrapped her hair tightly in a headscarf, and meticulously washed her hands with soap. She also made Fu Xing and Tang Er scrub their hands thoroughly, ensuring not a speck of dirt remained beneath their nails.
Selecting the most comfortable knife, she gave it a swift twirl and, following the menu agreed upon with Liang Qian, began cooking with seamless grace.
Liang Qian watched as Shen Miao lit three stoves at once, issuing commands with calm authority, working swiftly yet without chaos—her hands steady, her movements precise. Satisfied, he nodded to himself, gave a few instructions to the attendants waiting to serve the dishes, and then hurried away.
The Jade Spring Garden channeled the Bian River into its ponds and built floating islands upon them, adorned with pavilions and towers, all framed by ginkgo and maple trees. This made the garden’s autumn scenery unparalleled. Now, as the leaves turned color, the ginkgo leaves gleamed gold, and the maples blazed crimson, the beauty was breathtaking.
By the time Emperor Zhao Boyun arrived, Xi Feijing and Yue Teng were already exhausted from dealing with Prince Lu, who had been clamoring noisily to join the frontier campaign. When Zhao Boyun’s tall, broad, and dark figure strode into the waterside pavilion, they both sighed in relief.
"Your Majesty!" Prince Lu bowed hastily. "This humble brother pays respects!"
"Your subjects greet the Emperor!"
Zhao Boyun waved for them to rise and took his seat with a smile. "Generals, you’ve had a long journey. Please, sit—no need for formalities. Heng, have you been causing trouble?"
"None at all!" Prince Lu quickly defended himself, sitting meekly at the lower seat. "I’ve been studying lately. The tutors all say my calligraphy has improved—my characters are now uniform in size."
Zhao Boyun: "..."
He would have to increase the salaries of the academicians assigned to Prince Lu. They truly deserved it for their patience.
Liang Qian stepped forward to inquire, "Your Majesty, shall we begin serving the meal?"
Zhao Boyun nodded. "Proceed. The generals and I will discuss matters over dinner."
Liang Qian immediately went to make the arrangements.
Zhao Boyun waved away the attending palace maids and servants, took a sip of tea, and then set the cup down with a faint smile. He pointed at Xi Feijing and said, "General Xi, isn’t your younger sister married into the Xie family of Chen Commandery? Did you know that your brother-in-law came knocking at the palace gates today, claiming guilt and begging to resign from his post?"
Xi Feijing had never liked that brother-in-law of his, who had charmed his sister away with nothing but his looks. Even now, he still hadn’t gotten over it—that was his sister! But for the sake of his sister and nephew, he forced out a helpless smile. "That brother-in-law of mine has no real talent. He should have resigned long ago."
Back in their youth, his brother-in-law had been as soft as dough. Aside from having a handsome face, being obedient to Chunjun, writing elegant calligraphy, composing decent essays, and coming from a respectable family with strict discipline, he had no other redeeming qualities.
"This time, however, he seems to have wised up. He came weeping, snot and tears streaming down his face, confessing that some branches of the Xie family had secretly seized farmland from commoners and that their servants had abused their power. He admitted it was his failure to manage the household properly and begged me to punish him severely."
Zhao Boyun laughed heartily. He had been waiting to see if any of the noble families would wise up and submit to him completely before he took action. Initially, he had pinned his hopes on the Feng Family, but to his surprise, it was the Xie family that proved pragmatic.
Then, his tone shifted abruptly. The smile faded as he coldly revealed his plans: he intended to seize this opportunity to break the last vestiges of the aristocracy’s pride, ensuring they could only grovel under imperial authority, never again daring to stand tall.
Back when his father was still emperor, he had tried to weaken the noble families to pave the way for Zhao Boyun’s smooth ascension. But his haste had led to numerous wrongful convictions—likely the reason why the four great clans of Hedong—the Xue, Qin, Xu, and Jiang families—had all thrown their support behind Prince Jin.
When they had plotted to usurp the throne, they hadn’t shown him any mercy either. And yet, in the three years since his coronation, he had refrained from exterminating them entirely. That alone was an act of benevolence.
Zhao Boyun had long since made up his mind.
The wealth confiscated from the noble families would be divided three ways: one portion to replenish the imperial treasury, another for military expenses, and the last to fund expeditions into the Western Regions.
"I summoned you both back for three reasons. First, to have you recommend capable soldiers to join the mission to the Western Regions. Second, this matter concerns your own kin, so it’s only right that I explain it to you clearly. And third—so you could return home to visit your families and celebrate the New Year with me."
As he spoke, the ice in Zhao Boyun’s demeanor melted away, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
"I want to play cuju with my two generals!"
Yue Teng’s late elder brother’s daughter had married into the second branch of the Feng Family. Yet, hearing the emperor’s words, he didn’t so much as blink, replying with straightforward sincerity, "As Your Majesty commands, I will explain this clearly to my niece tomorrow."
Xi Feijing had initially been startled, but recalling that his brother-in-law had voluntarily resigned and that the emperor seemed pleased with the Xie family’s submission, he relaxed. With a grin, he added, "This saves me the trouble. The entire Xie family is loyal to Your Majesty—I need not say another word."
With that, the purpose of the banquet had been fulfilled.
Prince Lu, who had been silently downing cups of tea all this while, seized the moment to interject, "Imperial Brother, I’m starving."
"The food is here!" Liang Qian promptly drew aside the curtains, revealing a procession of eunuchs carrying lacquered trays. He glanced keenly at the dishes—Lady Shen must have some skill. In just half an hour since the emperor and generals began their discussion, she had already prepared three courses?
The first dish served was a cold appetizer—Longjing tea-infused shrimp. The shrimp were blanched and chilled in tea-infused ice water, making for a refreshing and savory starter.
The second dish was roasted duck, prepared by Shen's Kitchen and brought over. By now, it should have been lightly reheated on the stove, leaving the pancakes soft and the duck meat warm.
Zhao Boyun barely noticed the third dish. His eyes lit up at the sight of the roasted duck, and he enthusiastically recommended it to the two frontier generals who were still unsure how to eat it: "Generals, you must not know—a new duck shop has opened in Bianjing City, and they make the most exquisite roasted duck! Try it quickly. The proprietress, Madam Shen, is a master of her craft. I guarantee you’ve never tasted duck this delicious before."
Yue Teng, who had never encountered fast-food-style soup noodles in Yanzhou, managed just fine. He followed the emperor’s example, wrapping the duck in a pancake and taking a bite. The burst of flavor made him nod in approval despite his usual indifference to food. "Truly exceptional duck!"
Xi Feijing, however, was familiar with Shen's Noodle Shop in Bianjing. He had personally overseen the establishment of noodle workshops in Youzhou, and his sister had often mentioned Madam Shen in her letters, praising her as clever, hardworking, and skilled. But... were there really so many talented Shen-family cooks in Bianjing? How could there suddenly be another Madam Shen running a duck shop?
Puzzled, he rolled a piece of duck meat into a pancake and took a bite. The crispy, rich skin crackled in his mouth, while the juicy meat melded perfectly with the sauce, pancake, and scallions—far surpassing his expectations. Indeed, any duck that could impress the emperor was no ordinary dish.
"Absolutely delicious," Xi Feijing muttered after devouring several rolls, his beard glistening with grease. Words failed him, and he wondered vaguely if this Madam Shen of the duck shop and the one from the noodle shop were sisters. Both were undeniably gifted!
Prince Lu, having already sampled the roasted duck his duck-obsessed imperial brother had bought in the palace, remained outwardly calm. Still, he wrapped and ate the duck with practiced efficiency, polishing off seven or eight rolls without pause. He knew better than to talk—every word wasted was a bite missed.
Seeing Xi Feijing and Yue Teng’s delight, Zhao Boyun felt the satisfaction of finding kindred spirits. With a grand wave, he ordered Liang Qian, "Go tell Madam Shen to roast a few more ducks for the generals to take home!"
Liang Qian hesitated. Having frequently purchased ducks from Shen's Kitchen, he knew all too well about Shen Miao’s shortage of ducks. No matter how many extra he tried to buy, it was never possible. Later, when the emperor expressed interest in having Madam Shen cater the banquet, Liang Qian had thoroughly investigated her family background.
He discovered that the Shen family had been victims of a grave injustice years ago and even learned about Shen Miao’s recent trip to White Village to scout for land. A discreet inquiry in the village revealed everything.
Liang Qian reported honestly: "...Given the circumstances, the white ducks are in short supply, and Madam Shen refuses to use inferior breeds like the mallard. As a result, she can only offer twenty ducks a day. She hopes to buy land to raise her own ducks but hesitates after hearing of a recent tragedy, too afraid to lease official farmland."
He then recounted the Guo Family’s underhanded schemes.
"Outrageous!" Zhao Boyun slammed the table in fury, jolting the roasted duck. "The audacity of the Guo Family! To pull such tricks right under my nose! How despicable—I truly believed they had reformed, but it was all deception!"
Xi Feijing quickly set down his chopsticks and sat up straight, quiet and obedient. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the emperor, whose dark face was so furious that his beard seemed to bristle, making him appear even darker. Yet, for some reason, there was a flicker of excitement in his eyes, as if he were barely restraining himself from leaping up to applaud.
This matter concerning the Guo Family…
Had the emperor known about it all along?
Yue Teng was a loyal minister with no factional ties. Though related by marriage to the Feng Family, he never spoke on their behalf. His expression remained calm as he silently continued rolling up slices of roast duck. He cast a sidelong glance at Liang Qian, thinking to himself that the eunuch’s skill in setting the stage for the emperor had grown increasingly masterful.
Shen Miao, unaware of the undercurrents and tensions above, had been hastily thrust into this task. With no time to prepare, she could only rely on her fastest cooking speed, pouring all her focus into making this banquet perfect—she had no choice. This was the emperor, after all. Having seen too many dramas where imperial physicians or chefs were dragged off and executed for the slightest mistake, she dared not slack off, exerting every ounce of her skill for this feast.
Speed and quality, with training, could coexist. In her past life, her grandfather—a former army cook—had drilled her relentlessly. Her fastest record: thirty-five minutes, four dishes and a soup, enough for fifty people.
And even in such a rush, her grandfather had insisted she caramelize the sugar for the braised pork.
Yet she had managed it.
Her grandfather took one bite of her braised pork and grudgingly approved, saying, "This is nothing. Even if you’re cooking over a campfire in the wild, you still caramelize the sugar."
Now, Shen Miao summoned every bit of that skill—red-braised pork, fish head tofu soup, pan-fried free-range chicken, cumin-rubbed pork ribs… By the time she finished, she was drenched in sweat, huddling by the stove in the chilly late autumn, fanning herself with a large palm-leaf fan meant for stoking the fire.
Tang Er and Fu Xing couldn’t keep up with Shen Miao’s whirlwind pace, their spatula practically sparking from speed. They stood dumbfounded before being spun around like tops by her rapid-fire orders. The other kitchen staff fared no better, too busy to even gossip about her.
When the final beef brisket pot was served, the entire kitchen staff collapsed where they stood.
Liang Qian, rushing in, was startled.
What was this? Why was everyone slumped in corners, eyes glazed, as if their souls were drifting out of their mouths?
"Madam Shen?" he called tentatively.
Shen Miao lifted her head wearily.
"The emperor has sent this servant to deliver the payment for the banquet," Liang Qian said, noting her exhaustion. The emperor and the two generals had praised each dish as it came, and with Prince Lu’s bottomless appetite, nearly every plate had been emptied—a rare sight at palace banquets.
His face creased into a smile as he presented a small pouch, relaying the emperor’s words: "His Majesty says Madam Shen’s ducks will come in due time—just wait a few days."
Why did that sound so much like what Ninth Brother had said? Shen Miao wondered inwardly but accepted the pouch with both hands, thanking Liang Qian profusely. Only after returning home by carriage did she eagerly open it.
Originally, she and Liang Qian had agreed on five taels as a deposit and another five upon completion. But back then, she hadn’t known the guest of honor was the emperor!
Today, she once again poured all her effort into preparing this meal, and the imperial eunuch Liang seemed quite pleased, even praising her several times. Surely, she would receive some reward for this? Filled with anticipation and clinging to her stereotypical image of the emperor, she daydreamed: How could the emperor possibly be stingy? He would surely give generously...
She froze.
Inside the open purse lay only a single silver ingot—five taels.
Not a coin more, not a coin less.
