【September 15th, a good day for hot pot.】
Qi Daiyu posted a photo of a table laden with plates of meat to her social media, satisfied with her spread.
The split-pot was a newly crafted copper vessel, filled with broth and placed atop a stove in the room. Once the water boiled and the broth bubbled, the rich aroma filled the air. Even the palace maids preparing the dipping sauces couldn’t help but swallow their saliva.
It smelled heavenly…
Qi Daiyu’s dipping sauce selection was an all-inclusive affair—one sesame-based, one dry spice mix, and one oil-based—all three laid out before her. Noble Lady Qin, on the other hand, preferred just the oil-based sauce.
Qi Daiyu dipped a piece of freshly boiled tripe into the sauce, rolling it until fully coated before popping it into her mouth. The crisp texture, the numbing spice, and the fragrant oil made her exhale in satisfaction.
If only she had an ice-cold cola… or even beer.
Eating hot pot without either felt like something was missing.
With a hint of regret, Qi Daiyu sipped the sweetened soy milk instead—a decent substitute for cutting through the spice. After all, her health wasn’t the best, and her stomach couldn’t handle too much heat.
In truth, she had only dared to sample the spicy side of the pot at first before retreating to the milder broth, watching enviously as Noble Lady Qin indulged without restraint.
Just as they were thoroughly enjoying the meal, a voice called from outside, "His Majesty approaches!"
Qi Daiyu paused mid-bite, a slice of fatty beef suspended in her chopsticks, and glanced at Noble Lady Qin.
Was it her imagination, or had she glimpsed a flicker of disappointment on Noble Lady Qin’s face?
But the expression vanished as quickly as it appeared. Noble Lady Qin set down her chopsticks, wiped her mouth with a handkerchief, and rose to greet the emperor.
Qi Daiyu followed suit.
"Your humble consorts greet Your Majesty," they chorused.
Jiang Yuan raised an eyebrow at the sight of Qi Daiyu. What were these two doing together?
Still, seeing her in a peach-red narrow-sleeved dress, her cheeks flushed with health rather than the usual sickly pallor he disliked, he chose not to comment.
With a wave, he motioned for them to rise and strode inside. "I could smell this all the way from Yuehua Gate. What new delicacy have you concocted now?"
Upon entering the dining area, his eyes fell on the fiery-red pot simmering on the stove, its smoky, spicy aroma thick in the air. His mouth watered involuntarily.
"Looks promising," he remarked with a smile. "Perfect timing—I haven’t eaten yet. I’ll join Noble Lady Qin for the meal."
Noble Lady Qin laughed and feigned scolding her maid, Xiangchun. "What are you standing around for? Go to the kitchens and fetch more dishes—quickly!"
Knowing Jiang Yuan’s tastes, she rattled off a list of ingredients. "And tell them to be quick about it!"
Xiangchun bowed. "At once, my lady!"
Once the emperor was seated at the head of the table, with Noble Lady Qin and Qi Daiyu on either side, Jiang Yuan finally asked, "Why is Consort Qi here today?"
"I invited her," Noble Lady Qin replied smoothly. "Your Majesty may not know, but this split-pot—" She was about to credit Qi Daiyu with the idea when she noticed the subtle shake of her head.
Changing tack, Noble Lady Qin continued, "—has one side made with spicy beef tallow and the other with tomato broth. The beef side is rich, the tomato side sweet—both utterly delicious."
"You’ve always had a knack for inventive dishes," Jiang Yuan remarked, unsurprised. He was accustomed to Noble Lady Qin’s culinary experiments.
Noble Lady Qin felt a twinge of guilt. This time, it wasn’t her creation. If the emperor enjoyed it, wouldn’t she be stealing credit? Yet Qi Daiyu seemed determined to distance herself from the matter.
And Qi Daiyu absolutely wanted no part of it. If she could, she’d flee right now—but that would be too obvious.
What was the worst part of eating hot pot?
Being stuck at the same table as the person you least wanted to see!
Every second felt like sitting on pins and needles. To make matters worse, while Jiang Yuan enjoyed spicy food, his tolerance was mediocre, forcing him to settle for the tomato broth—just like Qi Daiyu. This meant that whenever a dish was ready, Jiang Yuan, with his hearty appetite, devoured it first, leaving her to pick at the scraps.
Leaving a hot pot meal still hungry? Absurd!
And then, when Jiang Yuan asked if they’d had their fill, she had to smile and say, "I’m full."
Qi Daiyu: "..."
For the first time since transmigrating, she truly felt the oppressive weight of feudal autocracy.
The moment the meal ended, Qi Daiyu bolted. She needed to sneak back for a second round to soothe her wounded soul.
Jiang Yuan, however, lingered. He naturally settled in Qixiang Palace, instructing Quan Fuhai to fetch a stack of memorials from the imperial study—a clear sign he intended to stay the night.
As servants cleared the table, Noble Lady Qin suggested, "Your Majesty, perhaps you’d like to change? The hot pot scent clings."
Among the more favored consorts, it was common to keep spare robes for the emperor, just in case.
Jiang Yuan nodded. "Very well."
While he changed, Noble Lady Qin did the same.
When she emerged, Jiang Yuan was already seated in the study, sipping tea. She approached, only for him to ask, "When did you grow close to Consort Qi?"
Noble Lady Qin, with her round, cheerful face, smiled easily. "Qixiang Palace is just behind Changchun Palace. Isn’t it natural we’d interact? Before, she was always ill, and I found her too dreary to visit. But lately, she’s healthier and far more lively. You know me—I can’t stand silence."
She had always been blunt with the emperor, sharing both good and bad thoughts. While he sometimes found her chatter exhausting, he appreciated her honesty.
So when she admitted she’d once disliked Qi Daiyu, he wasn’t offended.
Instead, Jiang Yuan grew thoughtful. Consort Qi had indeed changed recently.
She might think she hid it well, but how could the Son of Heaven miss the way she avoided him?
That first night in Changchun Palace hadn’t been unusual, but the last two encounters—once at the empress’s palace, now here—she’d seemed distinctly uncomfortable around him when others were present.
Why?
A spark of curiosity ignited in him.
After praising Noble Lady Qin’s new hot pot creation, Jiang Yuan ordered her to send a batch of the tomato broth to the empress dowager at Cining Palace. Noble Lady Qin, ever astute, went a step further—she gifted the recipe itself.
The empress dowager adored it, showering Qixiang Palace with lavish rewards.
Soon, hot pot became the latest palace trend. Every residence reeked of its pungent scent, though none could match Noble Lady Qin’s version without the proper recipe.
Guilt-ridden over the undeserved accolades, Noble Lady Qin sent word to Qi Daiyu’s residence, promising to owe her a favor.
Qi Daiyu didn’t mind—she just asked for a share of the broth so she could enjoy hot pot privately in her own quarters.
But just as she celebrated her successful acquisition, the Office of Imperial Affairs delivered news: the emperor had summoned her for the night.
Qi Daiyu: "..."
As Shiliu and Putao buzzed with excitement, Yanqing Residence underwent yet another frantic cleaning.
Only Qi Daiyu was inwardly groaning in distress, though she forced a smile on her face.
She couldn’t understand—after how she had acted last time, why did the Emperor still want to visit her? It seemed she needed to step up her efforts.
She rummaged through her wardrobe, searching for even plainer clothes.
Could it be, Qi Daiyu wondered, that the Emperor had been struck by her appearance the last time at Qixiang Palace when she wore that peach-red dress?
Ahem, not that she was being vain. The original body’s looks were truly exceptional. If not for her outstanding beauty, given her family background, she would never have been chosen as a consort for the Crown Prince back then. It was just that the Emperor didn’t favor her type, and later, as the original body fell ill, her beauty had faded considerably.
These days, Qi Daiyu had been nourishing herself with dietary remedies, paying daily respects at the Kunning Palace, and occasionally indulging in dramas and takeout—though the guilt made her jump into exercise routines. With increased physical activity, her complexion had improved, no longer sickly pale as before.
That day, for the sake of convenience while eating hotpot, she had chosen a narrow-sleeved dress in a vibrant peach-red. The heat from the hotpot had flushed her cheeks, lending her a radiant glow and enhancing her beauty significantly.
Perhaps she had truly caught the Emperor’s eye.
After all, judging by the favored consorts in the palace—the delicate and lovely Imperial Consort Shu, the voluptuous Noble Lady Qin, the stunning Beauty Miao—it was clear what the Emperor’s aesthetic preferences were.
If that were the case, Qi Daiyu’s hand paused over an olive-green, wide-sleeved gauze dress with a crossed collar.
Not only was the color of this dress muted, but it was also thin.
When Qi Daiyu put it on, Shiliu’s expression turned hesitant.
She deliberately asked, “What’s wrong? Does it not look good?”
Shiliu replied, “Your Highness looks beautiful in anything! But… while this dress is elegant, isn’t it a bit too flimsy?”
Though her mistress had been recuperating for some time, her body was still slender. As the weather grew colder, thicker clothing would have concealed it, but this dress was already loose and sheer, making her appear even more fragile.
Shiliu worried her mistress might catch a chill.
Flimsy? Qi Daiyu stifled a laugh. That was exactly the effect she wanted.
The Emperor disliked weakness, so she would play the part of a delicate, helpless beauty.
“It’s rare to see His Majesty. What does it matter if I’m a little cold?” Qi Daiyu studied herself in the mirror. Should she apply more powder to make her face even paler?
Shiliu and Putao were instantly filled with pity—their mistress’s devotion to the Emperor ran so deep…
In the end, she refrained from overdoing her makeup, mainly out of fear that the Emperor might summon the imperial physician if she looked too ill, which would expose her act.
Shortly after Xu hour (around 8 PM), the imperial procession arrived outside the Changchun Palace.
Qi Daiyu hurried out to greet him, curtsying gracefully while tilting her head slightly to reveal a fragile yet bashful profile.
“This humble consort pays respects to Your Majesty.”
Just then, an evening breeze swept through, causing her long sleeves to flutter and her dark hair to sway, accentuating her delicate, wind-swept beauty.
Jiang Yuan paused mid-step.
