Two hundred and thirty taels of silver—twice the expected amount—could be considered an unexpected windfall.
With this sum of money, there wasn’t much else to worry about, but the meals had to be improved.
Today’s dinner was exceptionally lavish.
The main dishes included braised shark fin in brown sauce, braised deer tendon, stuffed pork tenderloin, and clear-simmered fatty duck. The vegetarian dishes were almond tofu and pearl snow fungus. The staple was green rice, and there was also a lotus seed and lily lean pork soup.
None of these dishes were prepared by Yun Mo; they were all ordered from Shoushanfang, costing a total of forty-six taels of silver.
Of course, the money wasn’t wasted—the flavors of these imperial delicacies were truly exceptional.
Su Muyao loved fine food. In modern times, whenever she traveled, the one thing she never missed was visiting famous local restaurants.
She had encountered many restaurants that appeared upscale on the outside, boasting imperial cuisine, but the actual taste was mediocre, expensive, and served in small portions, leaving her disappointed after high expectations.
Thus, Su Muyao had always been curious about what real imperial cuisine tasted like and whether it lived up to its lofty names.
Although she had spent a considerable sum this time, it fulfilled a small wish of hers.
However, these dishes were so delicious that it was disheartening to think she couldn’t order them every day due to limited conditions.
Still, Yun Mo’s culinary skills were excellent, but Qianxi Sisuo lacked the variety of ingredients and seasonings available at Shoushanfang, preventing her from showcasing her full potential.
If only they could plant the backyard plot as soon as possible.
Thinking of planting reminded Su Muyao of seeds, and she asked with concern, “Yun Mo, do you know how many days it takes for the palace to complete a procurement?”
Yun Mo smiled. “Don’t worry, miss. It will take about ten more days.”
With so many consorts in the palace, it wasn’t like modern times where the procurement office would immediately go out to buy whatever was requested.
All procurements were unified and followed a strict procedure.
For example, the frequency of procurements was strictly regulated—three times a month, divided into the first, middle, and last ten-day periods.
First, on the 1st, 11th, and 21st of each month, each palace would register the items they needed at the procurement office. After registration, the items had to be reviewed, as certain prohibited goods could not be brought into the palace. This registration and review process took two to three days.
Then, the procurement office would categorize all the items and assign specialized personnel to purchase them outside. This process varied in duration, taking up to four or five days at most.
Finally, once the purchased items were brought back, they underwent another inspection and verification to ensure no prohibited goods were included. Only then were the items delivered to each palace, a process that also took two to three days.
Thus, each procurement cycle took about ten days, with the next cycle beginning as soon as the previous one ended.
For the consorts, waiting a little longer wasn’t the issue; the real fear was carelessness—forgetting to register something at the procurement office and realizing it only after the registration date had passed. According to palace rules, they would have to wait until the next cycle.
Su Muyao thought to herself that, in that case, her seeds wouldn’t arrive until February 10th or 11th.
What should she do in the meantime?
Soon, Su Muyao no longer had to worry.
This Haidongqing was like it had activated cheat codes. Over the next few days, it brought one prey after another back to Qianxi Sisuo—quails, turtledoves, wild geese, ducks, pheasants, hares… piling up all over the ground.
More than half of them had their necks broken by its sharp talons, dead beyond any doubt. To prevent spoilage, they could only be air-dried or eaten fresh.
But a few had luck buffs stacked on them—though injured, they survived.
Su Muyao counted them: two quails, three turtledoves, four pheasants, and six hares were still alive.
Since she now had pheasants and hares, which were easier to raise, Su Muyao changed her plans and decided not to keep the quails and turtledoves.
Apart from the surviving pheasants and hares, the rest of the prey were taken by Yun Mo to the kitchen for processing.
Su Muyao first went to the pond in the side courtyard to find some appropriately sized stones. She used them to build a nest in the eastern corner of the backyard, lined it with an old quilt, then inserted bamboo strips into the ground and tied them together with rope to create a simple fence.
Without distinguishing between males and females, she placed all six hares inside the fence, filled a copper basin with water, tossed in some dry grass, and left them be.
Hares were naturally adaptable and could survive with little care.
The problem lay with the pheasants. Pheasants had wings and could fly. Raising them in the deep palace, if not careful, could cause a lot of trouble. So whether they could be kept depended on their breed.
Su Muyao examined them carefully and noticed that the four pheasants brought by the Haidongqing had brightly colored feathers with a ring of white feathers around their necks. She concluded they were rainbow pheasants.
Only then did she feel relieved.
Rainbow pheasants were small pheasants that could fly but not high—at most four or five meters, not reaching the treetops. The palace walls were a full ten meters high, enough to contain them.
Another advantage of raising rainbow pheasants was that their vocal cords were underdeveloped, so their calls were very soft, somewhat resembling the sound of a partridge.
With only four of them, free-range raising would suffice.
Su Muyao built a chicken coop next to the hare nest, placing some food and water inside. She released all four rainbow pheasants into it. Two began pecking at the food, one timidly retreated into the nest, and the other flapped its wings, trying to fly out of the fence.
Just as it was about to take off, the Haidongqing let out a sharp cry, startling it into shrinking back.
Su Muyao patted the Haidongqing’s head and praised, "Well done!"
Actually, letting them fly out and move around in the backyard wouldn’t have been a big deal, but since they were newcomers, they did need to learn some rules first.
Encouraged by Su Muyao’s praise, the Haidongqing grew even prouder. It flew to a nearby branch, and whenever any of the pheasants secretly tried to fly out of the fence, its sharp eyes never missed it.
After several attempts, the pheasants were nearly scared out of their wits.
And this fright led to trouble.
The next day, Su Muyao woke up early, thinking of letting the pheasants out for some fresh air. But when she reached the chicken coop, all four pheasants looked sickly, and they hadn’t touched any of the food from the day before.
Su Muyao: "…"
Had her poultry-raising venture just begun, only to be cut short?
But in the deep palace, there were Imperial Physicians to treat people, but no veterinarians to treat chickens. She couldn’t possibly feed the pheasants human tranquilizer pills, could she?
Su Muyao deeply regretted it; it was indeed her miscalculation. She should have stopped the Haidongqing yesterday.
What should she do now?
Her Spirit Spring Water could revive withered plants, but could it also reinvigorate listless animals?
The key was that she had never tried it before.
After some thought, Su Muyao felt that now she could only try desperate measures as a last resort.
She fetched a bowl of water from the water jar, added two or three drops of spiritual spring water to it, and placed it in front of the pheasants. Unexpectedly, it had a miraculous effect.
The pheasants, catching the scent, gathered around the bowl and drank every last drop of water, taking turns.
By noon, they were playfully fighting and had regained their health.
Seeing this, Su Muyao thought of something, her eyes sparkling as she asked Yun Mo, "From now on, can we eat pheasant eggs every day?"
Pheasant eggs were excellent—not only were they more tender and flavorful than ordinary eggs, but their nutritional value was also four to five times higher, making them remarkably effective for nourishing the body.
They were especially suitable for pregnant women and those in weak health.
Even in modern times, genuine wild pheasant eggs were hard to come by. Many people paid high prices for pheasant eggs, only to end up with inferior products.
If they could harvest pheasant eggs every day, whether fried, scrambled, stewed, or deep-fried, just thinking about it made her mouth water.
Yun Mo chuckled and said, "Miss, pheasants are different from domestic chickens. Domestic chickens lay eggs every day, but pheasants lay eggs seasonally. For example, these colorful pheasants only lay eggs in spring and summer, and at most twenty eggs per season."①
Although pheasants have the word "chicken" in their name, they are essentially birds.
Expecting them to lay eggs like domestic chickens is impossible.
"Alright."
Although Su Muyao felt a tiny bit disappointed, it quickly faded away.
Having pheasant eggs to eat was already good enough—why demand more?
If all good things truly fell into her lap, she might even start to feel uneasy.