Just how unpalatable were the meals delivered to the emperor by the Guanglu Si?
Faced with the “morning meal” consisting of sixteen dishes and eight types of pastries, Shen Shiqing—who was well-versed in both ancient and modern knowledge—found herself at a loss for words to describe it.
There were stir-fried mutton, goose meat coated in batter and pan-fried, pork stir-fried with yellow vegetables, fresh fish pan-fried and drizzled with sauce… along with several unavoidable wild vegetables paired with bean soup, brewed tea, and so on. The variety was extensive and the presentation exquisite. At first glance, it was a dazzling array, but the moment it entered one’s mouth, it was an entirely different story.
After taking one bite of the goose and another of the mutton, Shen Shiqing could hardly tell the difference between the two dishes. Both were uniformly greasy and heavily sauced. To maintain their shape, a specially prepared stiff batter encased every meat dish that required frying.
If served straight from the wok, these dishes might have retained a hint of crispiness beneath the sauce. But by the time they were transported from the Guanglu Si’s main kitchen near Dong’anmen all the way to Zhaohua Yuan, kept warm in food containers filled with hot water, they had already lost a third of their heat by the time they reached the Imperial Presence. What texture could possibly remain? All that was left was a mushy, sauce-soaked mess, making it impossible to savor any actual flavor.
When Shen Shiqing first became emperor, there were too many pressing matters to attend to, and she had pushed her culinary desires to the back of her mind. But after several days, she could no longer tolerate these “Imperial Cuisine” that were all glitter and no substance.
She didn’t consider herself a master of the culinary arts—she merely enjoyed recreating dishes she had read about in books. Fortunately, the results were usually quite tasty.
It was precisely because of this that, even though her days at the Ning’an Lord Manor had been austere, her daily necessities were refined through careful attention.
Who would have thought that the meals of an emperor—the ruler of an entire nation—would be inferior to those of a woman like her, living as a grass widow?
After finishing a bowl of still-warm pine nut and chestnut porridge, two plain vegetable buns, and a few bites of relatively fresh dressed wild greens, Shen Shiqing set down her chopsticks, refusing to eat any more.
She considered ordering that such lavish yet unpalatable meat dishes no longer be prepared, but she knew that the Guanglu Si served the same menu to the emperor and the officials. If she rashly reduced the imperial provisions, the officials on duty would have even less to eat.
But truly, these dishes were utterly inedible!
The emperor’s dissatisfaction with the morning meal did not go unnoticed. Seeing Her Majesty buried in memorials inside the hall, the senior eunuchs exchanged meaningful glances. San Mao quietly slipped out of the courtyard and returned about an hour later, beaming with delight.
At the founding of the Great Yong Dynasty, the founding emperor had established an extremely rigorous daily schedule for his successors: waking at the beginning of the Yin hour, having the morning meal, attending morning lessons, holding court at the Mao hour… reviewing memorials late into the night. Truly, they rose earlier than roosters and stayed up later than mice. To make life easier for themselves, subsequent monarchs promoted the Grand Secretariat to screen memorials on their behalf, or held grand court assemblies only once every three to five days.
By the time of the Zhaode Emperor, the first thing he abolished was the morning lessons taught by the academicians. Later, he even reduced morning court sessions to once every ten or twenty days.
On days without court, he would occasionally sleep in, and it was common for him to doze off after breakfast.
When Shen Shiqing assumed the throne, she had no desire to waste time on laziness. After her morning meal, she practiced horseback riding in the dim light of dawn. Once the autumn wind had cleared her mind, she began reviewing memorials.
Putting down a memorial, Shen Shiqing looked up and saw his beaming face.
“Your Majesty, this humble servant has a plump little lamb here, already bled, de-haired, and scalded. I’ll set it up on the rack to roast for you right away!”
No sooner had San Mao finished speaking than he saw His Majesty looking at him with considerable interest. The Emperor even asked him: “Roast? How do you plan to roast it?”
“Some cumin and salt. If Your Majesty would like something sweet, this humble servant can fetch some sugar?”
San Mao’s culinary skills were only practiced in recent years to fill His Majesty’s stomach. He couldn’t be considered a proper imperial chef, with limited dishes in his repertoire—mostly stewing and boiling.
Hearing this, Shen Shiqing couldn’t help but feel somewhat concerned for that lamb.
His Majesty wasn’t as delighted as usual at the prospect of roasted lamb, making San Mao scratch his head in anxiety. He had considered learning proper cooking skills before, but His Majesty had said that the reason Guanglu Si’s meals tasted bad was because they were overly elaborate, and that his simple, fresh approach was better.
Following His Majesty’s words, he always cooked in this plain style, which left him with few variations to employ.
“Then, then… should this humble servant boil the lamb for Your Majesty?”
Boil it? Shen Shiqing glanced at San Mao’s expression, which made him look like he was about to wrestle a dead sheep, then lowered his eyes to continue reading memorials.
After a few moments, she said leisurely:
“Take flour, mix with tangerine peel powder and ginger juice added to water to form dough. First roll it into flatbread, then cut into noodles the thickness of a little finger. Cook thoroughly in boiling water. Take breast of lamb and lamb bones, put them in cold water and bring to boil to remove blood impurities. Then take them out and rinse with warm water. Put a handful of white peppercorns, a handful of red Sichuan peppercorns, and a handful of five-vein thyme in a cotton gauze bag, rinse twice, then put into a pot of hot water with the lamb and bones to simmer gently. Only place one large piece of firewood beneath the pot. After three quarters of an hour, remove the lamb, while continuing to simmer the bones until the firewood burns out. Add salt to the finished soup. Slice the lamb and arrange on the noodles. Serve with chopped scallions and coriander, pouring the boiling soup over everything.”
The seemingly simple yet exquisitely detailed recipe flowed effortlessly from the young ruler’s lips, as if she were merely describing how to boil water.
San Mao standing below was utterly dumbfounded.
What mixed with what to make dough?
What peppercorns and what peppercorns and what peppercorns?
How could you make soup with just one piece of firewood?
“Your, Your Majesty…” San Mao shuffled forward a few steps, “This humble servant is foolish… I know about white and Sichuan peppercorns, but that thyme, I’ve never heard of it.”
“Thyme is a type of Chinese medicine, not particularly precious. Any pharmacy attendant would know it.”
“Yes.”
After San Mao withdrew, Shen Shiqing read memorials for another half hour before Yi Ji came to report that Li Congyuan had arrived.
These days she frequently summoned the Grand Secretariat to Zhaohua Yuan to discuss government affairs. Among the three Grand Secretaries, Minister of War Yang Zhai constantly referenced how emperors of previous dynasties acted, like a talking chronicle. Minister of Rites Liu Kangyong appeared taciturn and mature, yet whenever he spoke he inevitably quoted “Confucius said” and “the Book of Songs.” Li Congyuan, however, focused on practical matters, presenting governance methods that moved from specific points to broader aspects while hitting crucial points.
After comparing them, Shen Shiqing understood: if she wanted to know how previous emperors handled affairs, she should listen to Yang Zhai; if she needed classical references to refute officials during court discussions, she could turn to Liu Kangyong; but if she truly wanted to get things done properly, she must heed Li Congyuan.
This feeling was also quite novel to Shen Shiqing. Ever since her father passed away and her mother fell gravely ill, followed by her entry into Ning’an Lord Manor, there had been no one left to discuss historical allusions, poetry, or classics with her. To dispel loneliness, she could only lecture her maidservants on texts. Thus, Chui Yun studied the Spring and Autumn Annals, Tu Nan studied Mencius, Pei Feng studied Zhuangzi, and A Chi studied the Book of Songs. Through repeatedly explaining these works, she reminded herself that everything she had learned over the past fifteen years remained valuable.
The vastness of historical records, the profound truths in classical studies, and the clarity of wind and moon in poetry would not fade in brilliance merely because she was trapped in shackles.
In this world, truly few things belonged to her, so she cherished every one of them—just as she now thirstily sought knowledge in the guise of the emperor.
Li Congyuan’s visit to Zhaohua Yuan was not solely to discuss current affairs with His Majesty; he had also brought several memorials, all pleading for leniency on behalf of others.
The person for whom leniency was sought was none other than Xie Wen Yuan, the current Ning’an Lord imprisoned in jail.
Flipping through the memorials, the emperor seated by the desk raised an eyebrow and smiled: “I hadn’t expected Ning’an Lord, usually so quiet and unassuming, to have such good connections at court.”
Li Congyuan bowed his head and said, “Your Majesty’s rigorous investigation into Zhang Qi’s embezzlement of military pay and farmland has been universally praised for its clarity and swift decisiveness. Scoundrels like Zhang Qi certainly deserve death, but the Jinyiwei and the Ministry of Justice have found no evidence of unlawful acts by Ning’an Lord… While Xie Wen Yuan is indeed incompetent and foolish, charging him with deceiving the sovereign and disrespect might fail to convince the public.”
After several days of interaction with the emperor, Li Congyuan could sense that this sovereign, long known for his capricious temper and whims, had truly become more steady than before. He no longer ordered people dragged out for beatings on a whim, allowing Li Congyuan to speak more boldly and directly.
“You have a point,” the emperor nodded, setting down the memorial and rising. “But incompetence and foolishness alone are sufficient grounds for me to strip him of his title, are they not?”
After a moment of contemplation, Li Congyuan replied, “Your Majesty, although Xie Wen Yuan has contributed nothing to the state, his father, Xie Zhan, once led troops to rescue the late emperor when he was trapped. His mother, the Huaiyuan County Princess, is the own aunt of Prince Ying. The County Princess is advanced in years—how could she endure seeing her own son stripped of his title? I implore Your Majesty, for the sake of Prince Ying’s lineage, to spare Ning’an Lord for now.”
Walking to Li Congyuan’s side and observing his graying hair, Shen Shiqing couldn’t help but recall her own father, Shen Shao.
Had her father stood thus before the late emperor back then, pleading for a chance to save Xie Wen Yuan’s title?
Standing solemnly to the side, Li Congyuan suddenly heard a soft chuckle: “Minister Li, if I recall correctly, during the late emperor’s reign, Xie Wen Yuan nearly lost his title back then too. It was Associate Grand Secretary and Hanlin Expositor Shen Shao who petitioned the late emperor and preserved his title. Did Scholar Shen not utter similar words at that time? Yet over these ten-plus years, Xie Wen Yuan has done not a single good deed, engaging only in flattery and sordid schemes. In another ten years, will yet another Grand Academician come before me to plead for him?”
Li Congyuan was momentarily speechless.
If not compelled by circumstances, he would never have spoken for such a parasitic, incompetent idler.
Shen Shiqing did not press him further: “Let Xie Wen Yuan be confined for a period to teach him a lesson. If it is truly found that he has committed no crimes, I will naturally release him.”
As she spoke these words, Shen Shiqing wore a smile on her face, appearing utterly sincere.
Seeing that His Majesty had relented, Li Congyuan ceased his persistence: “This humble official thanks Your Majesty for your grace on behalf of Ning’an Count Xie Wen Yuan.”
Grace?
With her back turned to Li Congyuan, Shen Shiqing idly played with a paperweight on the desk.
The smile on her face deepened.
Shortly after the hour of Chen, Li Congyuan withdrew from the hall. Passing by the side chamber beneath the osmanthus tree, he suddenly caught a faint aroma mingling with the fragrance of osmanthus flowers.
It smelled like simmering meat, yet far more refreshing than ordinary meat stew.
In such an important place within the palace, could it be that His Majesty had brought in a renowned chef from outside? Grand Academician Li felt a flicker of curiosity and thought to investigate, but just then he encountered the eunuch Four-Rat hurrying in from outside.
He nodded in acknowledgment to Four-Rat, and his desire to look into the matter faded. His Majesty had not clamored to build courtyards for nearly ten days now—if it was merely a culinary indulgence, they as officials need not scrutinize every minor detail.
Meanwhile, as soon as Four-Rat entered the main hall, he saw His Majesty pointing to a stack of memorials on the desk:
“Going through such trouble to write memorials pleading for a Ning’an Count who has been idle at home for years—these people are truly amusing. Investigate this for me.”
“Yes!”
Dressed in casual attire, the “Zhaode Emperor” stood tall and elegant, his expression somewhat less sinister and tyrannical than before, yet more inscrutable than ever.
“Dig deeper.”
“Your Majesty need not worry.”
Four-Rat kept his head bowed, focused solely on carrying out the task properly.
Backing out of Zhaohua Hall, Four-Rat hurried with small steps to the side chamber where San Mao prepared special meals for His Majesty:
“Lazy cat, what are you concocting for His Majesty? I haven’t heard about you bringing in any outside chefs.”
But there was no outside chef in the side chamber—only a dazed cat.
“Pesky rat, you caught the scent too?”
Lifting the lid of the pot, the rich aroma of meat broth made San Mao’s eyes glaze over:
“His Majesty gave me the recipe… Isn’t this just incredibly fragrant?”