In Longzhang Palace, Huai An, as usual, had prepared the evening meal. Just as he was about to go out and warm medicine for Jun Heng, he was suddenly called back.
When he turned, Jun Heng waved his hand dismissively.
“It’s nothing. You may go.”
Huai An paused in surprise, then seemed to realize something. “If I were to go to Yu—”
“You must not.” Jun Heng cut him off, picking up his silver chopsticks.
“Tomorrow, we will resume the morning court.”
“Your health…” Huai An hesitated, but still replied, “Yes.”
After stepping out, he looked back with concern.
Since winter began, Jun Heng had been intermittently ill, only recently recovering somewhat.
He had always been rather lax about state affairs, often passing responsibilities onto Gu Qingxing whenever possible. This time, however, his eagerness to return to court…
Huai An frowned, recalling the idle chatter he had overheard at Xianyun Pavilion.
It seemed the emperor wished to present himself as a wise and virtuous ruler in Gu Jiao’s eyes.
But…
Huai An sighed softly.
Seeing the emperor keep his thoughts to himself while the empress, though not deliberately distant, always seemed slightly apart, left him anxious.
He wished he could…
…
The next day, when Gu Jiao opened the door, she was surprised to find Huai An waiting as if he had been there for quite some time.
He greeted her with his usual calm warmth: “Will Your Highness be dining with His Majesty today?”
“I suppose not…” she hesitated.
If nothing important required it, she preferred to avoid meeting Jun Heng too frequently.
“Then… I’ve instructed the Imperial Kitchen to prepare an extra portion for Your Highness,” Huai An offered.
Unexpectedly, he did not insist further.
Having sampled the kitchen’s skill previously, Gu Jiao had been somewhat impressed. Now, with Huai An bringing it up, she did not refuse.
Thus—
“This fish soup is rather unique,” she remarked.
Jinshi, arranging the dishes, replied, “It was sent specially by Lord Huai An. Naturally, it wouldn’t be inferior.”
The next day.
“Freshly steamed shad from the Imperial Kitchen, tender and flavorful. Your Highness, please enjoy.”
…
“Crispy, tender, sweet-and-sour squirrel mandarin fish.”
…
“Today—”
“Stop!” Gu Jiao interrupted, supporting herself on the doorframe as she looked at the fish-head tofu soup on the table, her eye twitching.
“Jinshi, has the Imperial Kitchen lately…?” She thought for a moment, choosing a more delicate way to phrase it, “…been overusing fish in their dishes?”
Several consecutive main dishes were all fish—fish soup, fish stew, fried fish, braised fish—was this the Imperial Kitchen or a fishpond?
Jinshi looked equally puzzled. “I find it strange too. His Majesty likes fish. Previously, the Imperial Kitchen seldom used fish in their dishes.”
“His Majesty likes fish?” Gu Jiao looked up in confusion. She remembered Jun Heng had never been picky before.
“Yes. When madam taught us, she repeatedly mentioned His Majesty’s preferences, specifically highlighting this.”
Gu Jiao fell silent. She had known Jun Heng for so many years, yet had never noticed.
No wonder, that day at Xianyun Pavilion, Huai An kept glancing at that plate of fish.
Huai An?
Her gaze swept over the fish soup on the table.
…
“Preferences aren’t always consistent. A few days ago, His Majesty also ate fish with you, didn’t he?” Huai An smiled as he took the teapot from Jinshi, expertly pouring tea.
Gu Jiao studied him closely but found nothing unusual—yet she still felt something was slightly off.
“Still, that doesn’t mean he should eat fish every day,” she murmured thoughtfully.
“Speaking of this, I just happen to have something to tell Your Highness.” Huai An gave Jinshi a look, signaling her to leave first.
“Do you know why His Majesty rarely ate fish before?”
Gu Jiao thought: of course.
She gestured to the seat beside her, inviting Huai An to sit. She sipped her tea lightly. “Why?”
Huai An did not refuse. After settling in, he thought for a moment and said slowly:
“When I first met His Majesty, he had fallen, soaked, beside the pond in the Imperial Garden. By his side was a fish on the verge of death.”
“At that time… His Majesty hadn’t eaten in days.”
She spilled a bit of tea, raising her hand to stop Huai An from trying to clean it up, her eyes flashing.
“Was he the Crown Prince?”
Even at his lowest, how could it have been this dire?
Huai An gave a wry smile. “At the time, His Majesty was still a child, and not yet Crown Prince. A prince born in the cold palace, without the protection of his birth mother… how could he have escaped abuse?”
“Cold palace?” Gu Jiao repeated softly.
Then she recalled the secret Ning Feizhi had whispered in her ear about the palace.
The previous emperor’s favored consort had lost favor while carrying Jun Heng.
In the palace, replacement of old with new was common, but that consort took it personally, even resenting her unborn child.
It was said she had taken abortive medicine, hoping to force the emperor to see her.
In the end, she never softened the emperor’s heart and resigned herself, locking herself in the palace until Jun Heng was born.
What kind of life could a prince, even one longed-for, truly have had?
Huai An spoke softly of the past, then sighed: “The former emperor still cared for His Majesty and his mother, but… he was accustomed to favoring some and neglecting others.”
“Consort Zhao hardly paid attention. She left the palace frequently and didn’t concern herself with His Majesty’s affairs. Naturally, others followed suit.”
“Later, His Majesty had to find food for himself.”
Gu Jiao’s fingers trembled.
“The pond fish were simply used as ingredients. Full of bones, strong in odor, and he was just a child—he barely managed to cook it.”
Gu Jiao fell silent.
So that was why Jun Heng liked fish.
“And now—”
“At Xianyun Pavilion, when I went to fetch the chopsticks, I overheard a few words from Your Highness through the partition.”
Her words? Gu Jiao blinked. What had she said?
“You mentioned preparing fish for His Majesty to eat.”
Gu Jiao: …
“I did not know at the time, and moreover…”
And she had only said it casually.
“That day, the fish you served, His Majesty ate it.”
Huai An gave a small, apologetic smile. “Early spring fish are the freshest. How has Your Highness found them these past few days?”
Even with thoughts of Jun Heng’s past, Gu Jiao couldn’t help but twitch at the corner of her eye.
So all the fish she had been serving lately had been Huai An’s way of giving her a hint?
The master and servant—they really were a pair, each avoiding speaking plainly while still conveying their meaning.
“But does he actually like it?” Gu Jiao wondered. Why did Huai An go around in such a roundabout way?
Huai An shook his head. “His Majesty has often had nightmares, waking in cold sweat. He is haunted by the past. I thought… this might be an opportunity for you to comfort him.”
He hesitated, choosing not to be too blunt: “His Majesty rarely opens his heart. But he always listens when it comes from Your Highness.”
Gu Jiao thought for a moment, then, meeting Huai An’s earnest gaze, she agreed.
Preparing a dish wasn’t a great task, and she was willing to help after all the time she had known Jun Heng.
Consort Gu decided to act immediately. That afternoon, she borrowed a room in the Imperial Kitchen.
The steamed fish at Xianyun Pavilion used sea bass. Gu Jiao followed suit, scooping a fresh bass from the basin, then—
“Huai An, where are the imperial chefs?” She looked at the lively fish on the cutting board, then glanced at him for help.
“Because Your Highness was coming, I sent them all away earlier,” Huai An said, eyes lingering on the fish. He hesitated. “Or… should I call them back?”
He had been so focused on sending someone to secretly inform His Majesty that he’d overlooked this.
Originally, he thought that when His Majesty arrived and saw Gu Jiao putting effort into preparing the dish, any lingering resentment would surely melt away.
But… under the current circumstances, by the time His Majesty arrived, that fish probably wouldn’t even have made it into the pot.
“Forget it, forget it. It’s just killing a fish. How hard can it be?”
Gu Jiao waved her hand, rolled up her sleeves, and stepped forward. Just as she reached out, the bass on the board thrashed harder, flipping straight into the firewood pile.
Huai An quickly crouched to scoop it up. “Better let me handle it.”
Though he said this, he had never done such tasks since becoming Jun Heng’s attendant. Holding the fish steady was one thing—but where to place the knife was another matter entirely.
At that moment, a puzzled voice came from the doorway.
“What are you two doing?”
…
After washing the fish again, cutting it, and scraping off the scales, Jun Heng glanced at Gu Jiao, who was staring in stunned disbelief.
“Why the sudden urge to cook?” he frowned. “The palace meals aren’t to your taste?”
“Ah—”
Snapping out of the shock of seeing Jun Heng kill a fish with his own hands, Gu Jiao cleared her throat. “I just… wanted to practice a bit. Since you happened to be here, would you care to honor me by trying it?”
Jun Heng’s gaze lingered on Huai An for a moment, as if recalling something, but he did not speak of it.
“I’ll help you.”
Gu Jiao had once secretly learned a trick at Xianyun Pavilion, intending to show off at Gu Qingxing’s birthday feast. That attempt had ended in near disaster, nearly setting the kitchen on fire, so she had switched to a simpler dish.
Now, cooking properly, she truly understood what it meant to only know things on paper.
“Where’s the ginger… the ginger slices?”
“Is this little oil really enough… and how hot should it be?”
“Ah! The fish isn’t even in the pan yet!”
…
Wiping sweat from her brow, Gu Jiao glanced nervously at Jun Heng.
Though he occasionally helped, due to some uncertain factor—likely the fire or her timing—the fish that finally came out of the pot had completely lost its shape.
Steamed fish was supposed to be one of the easiest dishes, and yet…
“First time cooking?” Jun Heng suddenly asked her.
“Well—” Gu Jiao tried to deny it, but stopped when she looked at the fish in the pan.
“Should we add water and make it a soup?” she suggested, trying to salvage it.
Jun Heng, however, seemed to have thought of something. A small smile tugged at his lips, then vanished almost immediately.
He stepped beside Gu Jiao, gently blocking Huai An’s attempt to help, and carefully plated the misshapen fish.
Handing a pair of chopsticks to the still-tentative Gu Jiao, he said lightly, “You made it with your own hands. Aren’t you going to try it?”
Gu Jiao shook her head, her expression as if the steamed fish were poisonous.
She was about to protest, but Jun Heng already picked up a piece and put it in his mouth.
Caught off guard, she widened her eyes, then watched his expression closely, anxious that he might find something wrong with it.
“How is it?” she asked carefully.
Jun Heng pursed his lips and glanced up at her.
“It’s fine.”
Fine?
Eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, Gu Jiao finally dared to taste it herself after some hesitation.
The fish was soft and mushy, almost flavorless, the seasoning minimal—almost like chewing wax. By any measure, it was one of the worst things she had ever eaten.
“This isn’t good. Better let the chefs remake it,” she frowned, reaching to discard it.
Her hand was suddenly pressed down.
She turned to see Jun Heng, lips pressed together, waiting before speaking: “The Left Chancellor said we should be frugal with food and expenses.”
Gu Jiao: “I don’t think throwing away one inedible fish counts as extravagance, does it?”
“I haven’t eaten yet,” Jun Heng replied, looking at her. “I’m a little hungry.”
…
Reluctantly, Gu Jiao left the terrible fish untouched.
To make up for His Majesty missing his meal, she pulled out a few sweet potatoes from the kitchen. With the fire still warm, she steamed them in no time.
Jun Heng still seemed mildly irritated about the discarded fish, but he took the sweet potato she offered.
Peeling back the skin, the golden flesh was soft, steaming hot. With an expectant look, Gu Jiao watched as he took a bite.
“Not bad.”
Gu Jiao exhaled in relief and bit into one herself.
The sweet potato was fragrant and sweet. She squinted her eyes in pleasure. “It’s really good.”
“I didn’t expect I had a talent for cooking,” she said.
Then she heard a quiet laugh from the side.
Gu Jiao immediately glared. “Huai An, are you laughing at me?”
“Not at all. I just think Your Highness seems… calmer than before,” Huai An said after a pause.
…Was that meant as a compliment?
Out of the corner of her eye, Gu Jiao saw a small smile at the corners of Jun Heng’s lips and suddenly remembered the main point.
Still…
She looked at him. “Actually, the sweet potato’s pretty good too, right?”
Jun Heng, lost in thought about Huai An’s words, looked up in surprise. “Hm?”
“I mean…” Gu Jiao thought for a moment. “If there’s so much that tastes good, it doesn’t have to be fish.”
“It’s not medicine; there’s no need to force it. Don’t you think so, Huai An?”
She looked at Huai An.
Huai An, flustered by concern, misread her intention.
It wasn’t that complicated. Heartstrings don’t unravel so easily.
The real thing that troubled Jun Heng wasn’t those inedible fish from years past.
Preferences can change; pain in the heart is harder to heal. So why not let him feel at ease?
Jun Heng’s gaze lingered on Gu Jiao, then on Huai An. After noticing the silent exchange between the two, he stood.
“Huai An.” He stepped forward, eyes deepening as they passed over Gu Jiao.
Huai An bowed his head slightly, silent.
The two left the room together. Gu Jiao, guessing they had private matters to discuss, waited a moment before brushing off the stove ashes and leaving.
At the crossroads, she paused briefly, then headed toward Longzhang Palace.
Knocking on the door, she heard a soft reply from inside.
Pushing the door open, she saw Jun Heng sitting alone, eyes half-closed, as if restraining something.
“Come in,” he said after a while.
She entered and sat before him. “You’re not angry, are you?” she asked gently.
“In your eyes, am I so easily angered?” His gaze was difficult to read.
“I’m not afraid of your anger, only afraid you won’t tell me when you are,” she sighed.
“Did Huai An come to see you?” he asked.
“He was worried about you. I actually think you’d be more likely to listen to him because of it.”
Gu Jiao wasn’t concerned that Jun Heng might blame Huai An. He was not unreasonable and understood Huai An’s intentions.
“What did he tell you?”
Gu Jiao paused. She had thought he’d already asked Huai An—but apparently, he hadn’t.
Seemingly guessing her thoughts, Jun Heng shook his head. “He said you’d come to check on me anyway, so…”
So he had asked him to speak directly to her.
Gu Jiao blinked. Had she been outmaneuvered again by this Huai An?
“He told me you don’t like fish. I didn’t believe it, so I wanted to show you my skills,” she said with a light smile. “But as you saw… it didn’t go too well.”
Jun Heng, seeing this transparent excuse, didn’t press further. After a moment of silence, he finally said, “It’s not that I dislike it.”
“I like it very much, Gu Jiao.”
—Notes the narrator adds:
This household would fall apart without Huai An.