Life passed by peacefully and comfortably. In the small kitchen of Changxin Palace, today an especially enticing aroma of roasting filled the air.
The fragrance was bold and warm, even overpowering the newly replaced sandalwood scent in the hall, making the young eunuchs on duty outside the corridor quietly sniff the air and peek in, their mouths watering.
Inside the hall, on the Zitan wood Eight Immortals table in front of Su Su, a specially made silver-wire charcoal brazier burned brightly. On it, a plump lamb leg sizzled, its surface glossy with oil.
The chief eunuch from the imperial kitchens personally brought the dish, smiling broadly as he explained, “Your Highness, this lamb was sent from the imperial estate in the suburbs just this morning. It is exceptionally tender. It was marinated overnight in Western spices and fruit wine, then slow-roasted over fruitwood for two hours. See the skin? Crispy but not burnt, and all the juices are locked inside.”
The lamb’s golden, crispy skin gleamed with a rich amber hue, evenly dusted with cumin, chili powder, and a hint of sesame. As the fat dripped onto the hot coals, it hissed delightfully, sending up waves of smoke rich with the aroma of meat, fruitwood, and spices just the smell alone made one’s mouth water.
Su Su’s stomach grumbled at the sight and sound of the lamb.
Chunlan, holding a silver knife, skillfully sliced off the outer layer of golden, fragrant meat, revealing the tender, juicy pink meat within. She placed the first perfectly sliced plate in front of Su Su.
“Your Highness, try this. It tastes even better with this specially prepared Western-style sauce,” Qiuju said, sliding a small glass cup of thick sauce toward her, the scent sweet and tangy.
Su Su picked up her silver chopsticks eagerly, first tasting a slice plain. The lamb was divine the crisp exterior with the punch of spices, followed by the exquisite tenderness and richness of the meat inside. There was no hint of gaminess, only a full, fresh flavor. She then dipped it in the sauce as advised; the sweet-and-sour notes immediately awakened her taste buds, enhancing the meat’s savoriness even further.
Next, she tried the accompanying sesame flatbread, hot from the oven, crisp on the outside, soft inside, with a fragrant wheat aroma. She split it horizontally, placed a few slices of roasted lamb inside, added a small portion of tangy pickled cucumbers and some fresh perilla leaves, and bit in. The flavors wheat, meat, roasting, sour crunch, and the fresh herbal note of perilla exploded together, creating an incredibly delightful, complex taste.
Besides the lamb, the table held a few refreshing side dishes: a plate of sugar-coated tomato slices, thin as cicada wings, sparkling like red jewels dusted with snow, sweet and tart to stimulate the appetite; a plate of “three-shreds” salad with carrot, green bamboo shoots, and dried tofu, cut thin as hair and drizzled with fragrant sesame oil, crisp and refreshing; and a small bowl of milky crucian carp tofu soup, sprinkled with bright green scallions, fragrant and perfect to soothe the throat after eating roasted meat.
Qiuju watched with a mouth-watering look. Seeing this, Su Su smiled warmly, asked the other palace maids to leave, and signaled Chunlan to slice some lamb for the three of them. Sitting around the table with flatbreads, the three ate in companionable silence, the hall filled with a quiet, comforting warmth.
Su Su had a hearty appetite. She ate nearly half a plate of lamb with the flatbread, then drank a bowl of fish soup, feeling warm, lazy, and pleasantly full. She asked Chunlan to distribute the remaining lamb to the other palace maids.
After the meal, she strolled into the courtyard. The afternoon sun shone just right, warm and gentle, dispelling the last traces of early-spring chill. Beneath the old locust tree in the courtyard, her usual lounge chair with thick cushions and a small table had been arranged. On the table lay her well-worn copy of Records of the Nine Provinces and a freshly brewed pot of warm jasmine tea.
She reclined comfortably, sunlight filtering through the sparse branches, casting dappled shadows on her face.
Picking up the book, she flipped to the chapters describing the northwestern frontier: Vast deserts, solitary smoke rising, the long river at sunset, winds stirring yellow sand, camel bells echoing… The words were grand and magnificent, yet separated from her by the thin layer of paper.
She tried to imagine the boundless desert, the dunes rolling like waves in the wind; she could almost hear the intermittent camel bells of merchants echoing across the land. As she pictured it, her eyelids grew heavy. The book slipped from her hands and fell softly onto the plush carpet. The warmth of the sun and the comfort of a full meal carried her gently into slumber.
She slept soundly, without worry, until the westering sun became bright and glaring. Through her closed eyelids, she saw a warm orange-red glow and slowly awoke. Rubbing her sleepy eyes, she still felt full from the meal; even her waist felt slightly tighter from the fullness, a little uncomfortable.
She stood, lightly patting her cheeks, and looked down at her increasingly slender but now slightly rounded waist and abdomen from eating. She sighed helplessly: Eat, sleep, wake to read leisurely, bask in the sun… if I continue living like this in Changxin Palace, I’m truly turning into an idle palace drone.
Her tone carried a hint of self-mockery, but there was little anxiety rather, a calm resignation. After all, being a carefree “idle drone” was infinitely more peaceful than the tense, tangled, and envious days she had endured before.
“I should move around a bit to help digestion; if I lie down any longer, my bones will stiffen,” she murmured to herself. Then, raising her voice, she called out, “Chunlan, Qiuju, come with me to the imperial garden for a walk and see the spring scenery.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” the two replied promptly, their faces brightening. It was always good news when their lady wished to go outside. The three of them proceeded to the imperial garden.
In early spring, the garden was already showing signs of life. Forsythia bloomed first, small yellow flowers scattered like stars against the dark green branches, announcing the arrival of spring. A few early cherry trees had formed tiny, firm buds, pink and delicate, like the bashful cheeks of young girls extremely charming.
From a distance, the grass appeared a pale green; up close, it was still sparse the season of “grass seen afar, yet bare nearby.” Walking along the winding path paved with multicolored pebbles, breathing in the crisp air with its lingering chill and the scent of thawed earth, Su Su felt all the heaviness in her chest dissolve, her mood lightening.
She had no particular destination, choosing instead the quiet, secluded paths. The three chatted and laughed, occasionally pausing to admire new buds or listen to the crisp chirping of birds. Qiuju even pointed out a swallow busy carrying mud to build its nest. The walk was pleasant and unhurried, letting her forget, for a time, the turmoil within the palace walls.
Rounding a thicket of newly sprouted bamboo, the path opened to a picturesque rockery built from jagged stones. Below, a shallow pool of clear water housed a few leisurely swimming koi. At the edge stood a hexagonal pavilion with upturned eaves; a plaque above read “Qin Fang.”
Suddenly, Su Su’s light steps came to an abrupt halt, her faint smile freezing.
Someone was in the pavilion. A closer look revealed the two people she most did not wish to see at that moment.
A figure in bright yellow stood tall and imposing; even at a distance, the cold authority of an emperor was unmistakable it was Li Qianche. Beside him sat a woman in moon-white cloud-patterned palace attire, her figure graceful, her aura serene and exquisite, like a rare orchid in a secluded valley Wan Pin Mu Hanyan. They appeared to be in conversation. Li Qianche slightly tilted his head, listening with a rare focus and calm that Su Su remembered vividly. Mu Hanyan spoke quietly, moving her lips now and then, her posture composed and unhurried.
Sunlight filtered through the pavilion’s carved lattice, casting gentle golden edges on their yellow and white garments. The scene exuded an inexplicable harmony and serene beauty, like a masterpiece painted by a court artist but to Su Su, it was like a tiny needle piercing her chest. It didn’t hurt sharply, but a sour, chilling sting spread quickly through her heart.
Almost instinctively, she turned, intending to retreat silently along the path she had come. She did not wish to interrupt them, nor to face them in such a situation; it would only create awkwardness and disturb the calm she had so painstakingly cultivated. At that moment, all she wanted was to return to the quiet Changxin Palace, where she could live as an idle “rice bug,” unaffected by the outside world or imperial favor.
Chunlan and Qiuju saw the scene as well and knew that their lady would not want to be seen. They followed her footsteps, preparing to leave.
However, just as Su Su turned and stepped to conceal herself behind the bamboo, a slightly sharp yet respectful voice sounded from not far behind:
“Oh! Isn’t this Consort Su? Your servant pays respects to Consort Su!”
It was Shen Gaoyi. She did not notice when he had walked over from the pavilion. He stood a few steps away, bowing slightly, a flawless, measured smile on his face. His voice was neither too loud nor too soft, but it cut clearly through the quiet, reaching even the pavilion where the two sat.
Su Su’s body froze completely; the second step she attempted to take stalled midair before settling slowly.
She knew now there was no escaping.
The eyes in the pavilion, surely drawn by Shen Gaoyi’s greeting, were fixed on her fleeing figure. One gaze was cold and piercing; the other calm and steady but both made her feel as if needles were pressed against her back.