These past two days, the only thing she could do was rest in bed to recuperate.
The original owner's body was far too weak!
Even now, though Su Muyao could finally get out of bed and walk, she could at most make it to the doorway of her room. Any farther, and she would feel breathless and panicked, unable to continue, and would have to sit down and rest.
Su Muyao had no intention of pushing herself. Apart from occasionally having to get out of bed, most of the time she obediently followed the doctor's orders, staying tucked in bed to recover.
During her idle moments resting in bed, she gradually managed to extract a great deal of information from Yun Mo.
This included Yun Mo's background and experiences before entering the palace, as well as the many changes that had occurred outside during the more than two months the original owner had been seriously ill in bed.
Naturally, it also included the relevant situation of the Shoushanfang.
As the second-largest kitchen in the palace, the operations within the Shoushanfang were also orderly and well-organized.
It was mainly divided into three parts: Dingshan, Beishan, and Fenshan.
Dingshan involved planning the meals to be prepared each day: Zhushan and Fushan.
The custom of the current dynasty was to have two meals a day, also called Chaoshi Xiangshi. To put it plainly, this meant there were only two main meals, one in the morning and one in the evening, both indispensable.
There were corresponding old regulations regarding the types and quantities.
For the morning meal, at least five types of porridge or rice, eight kinds of pastries, nine bowls of cold dishes, and sixteen substantial dishes had to be prepared.
For the evening meal, at least two varieties of hot pot, six types of tea soup, nine kinds of cakes and pastries, twelve vegetarian stir-fries, and thirty-eight substantial dishes had to be prepared.
The specific method for determining the Zhushan followed the previous dynasty's practice, using a Liushuixi system. The names of all dishes from across the land were written on Shuipai. In the first ten days of each month, the Qintianjian would select an auspicious day and hour, then begin a random rotation to determine the dishes to be prepared for the morning and evening meals each day of the following month.
Once decided, it would be reported by a designated person to the Imperial Household Department. In the last ten days of the month, the Imperial Household Department would begin allocating resources, arranging in advance the basic supplies—such as fruits, vegetables, grains, oils, and other staples—needed by the major kitchens for the following month.
At the end of the year, the Imperial Household Department would calculate the total annual expenditure and submit it to the Hubu for accounting.
However, often the upper-level masters' meals were unpredictable. They might want something extra, or feel a bit hungry after the evening meal. These meals, not within the predetermined plan, were uniformly called Fushan.
Therefore, the kitchen managers spent most of their daily energy on Fushan.
Take the morning, for example.
At Yinban (4 a.m.), they had to go wait at the palace gates of the Emperor, the Empress Dowager, and high-ranking consorts. During Maoshi (5 a.m. to 7 a.m.), the upper-level masters in the palace would gradually rise and wash up. The eunuchs and maidservants serving inside would ask their masters what they wanted to eat in the morning. Once clarified, they would go out to liaise with the managers waiting at the palace gates.
Those managers, upon returning to the kitchen, would keep a close watch on the cooks until the meals were prepared and portioned. Then, before Chenzhong (8 a.m.), they would send people to deliver the meals to the various palaces.
Understanding this, Su Muyao began to think of ways to exploit loopholes and get enough to eat.
Previously, Yun Mo had also followed the routine of ordinary palace attendants, rising at Yinshi, helping the original owner wash up during Maoshi, and going to the Shoushanfang to fetch the morning meal during Chenshi.
Thus, by the time Yun Mo went to collect the meal, those managers had just finished attending to the upper-level masters and had begun supervising the distribution of meals to the lower-ranking consorts. This was naturally a prime opportunity for them to line their own pockets.
So last night, Su Muyao instructed Yun Mo to go directly to the Shoushanfang to fetch the morning meal after getting up, avoiding the time when those managers were in the Shoushanfang.
The supervisors were not present, leaving only the kitchen servants to handle the meal distribution.
They were just like the part-time aunties in modern-day cafeterias—since the cafeteria wasn’t their own, they strictly adhered to portion sizes. However, if you smiled at them or said a few kind words, they might even give you an extra spoonful or two.
Sure enough, the breakfast brought back this morning was far better than usual.
After a satisfying meal, Yun Mo patted her belly, feeling content.
She noticed that ever since her young lady’s high fever, something had changed.
Before, her young lady was beautiful, yes, but she seemed detached from the world. Perhaps due to her frail health, a faint, lingering melancholy always shadowed her brows, truly resembling the ailing beauty Xishi.
But now, her young lady seemed to have suddenly come alive. The sorrow that once surrounded her had dissipated, replaced by a gentle and steady gaze, like a spring breeze nurturing the earth in silence. Unconsciously, Yun Mo felt influenced, gaining an inexplicable inner strength.
Yun Mo had an intuition that as long as her young lady was around, their days in the palace would only get better.
Su Muyao looked at Yun Mo and recalled something else, softly instructing, “From now on, fetch breakfast at the same time as today, but for dinner, you must still go at the usual time.”
Yun Mo scratched her head. Though she knew her young lady must have her reasons, she couldn’t quite grasp the logic just yet.
Wouldn’t this mean they’d still have to endure alternating hunger and fullness?
Besides, dinner was more lavish than breakfast.
Su Muyao shook her head with a light laugh. “Silly girl, those supervisors in the kitchen are shrewd. Do you think they wouldn’t notice if their silver pouches were short?”
If they always fetched meals when the supervisors were away, wouldn’t it breed resentment?
With no background or influence in the palace, offending the supervisors of Shoushanfang would be like throwing herself into a pit of fire.
So, it had to be done discreetly.
By fetching breakfast an hour earlier, even if someone questioned it, Yun Mo could explain that her mistress was unwell and needed to take medicine every morning, so she had to fetch the meal early to prepare the medicine.
This way, changing the breakfast time for Qianxi Sisuo would be both reasonable and justified. Moreover, according to her allotted portion, breakfast consisted only of plain porridge, steamed buns, and simple side dishes—nothing of great value. Even if the kitchen supervisors noticed, they wouldn’t bother making an issue of it.
Yun Mo wasn’t foolish either. She lowered her gaze, pondering for a moment before suddenly understanding. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at Su Muyao, filled with admiration and awe. She praised sincerely, “Young lady, you are truly amazing!”
In this matter, her young lady had not only resolved their survival crisis but also considered every angle. It was like strategizing from within and securing victory from afar. If she were a man, she could easily serve as a prime minister in the imperial court.
In just two days, Yun Mo had become a devoted admirer of Su Muyao.
Su Muyao hadn’t expected her first fan in ancient times to be her own maid, but the feeling was rather pleasant.
This winter was exceptionally cold, but because the two relied on each other, never losing heart and encouraging one another, Qianxi Sisuo gained a touch of warmth.
Yet, this warmth was far from enough to see them through the harsh winter.
Su Muyao, wearing a hood and draped in a plain feathered satin cloak, walked to the doorway.
Yun Mo moved the brazier from the corridor to the steps and began lighting it, but after struggling for a long time, only wisps of black smoke rose from the brazier—it simply wouldn’t catch fire.
For a moment, she was both anxious and angry, her eyes reddening.
Su Muyao asked, “What’s going on?”
Seeing her mistress come out, Yun Mo, afraid she might catch a chill, hurriedly rose and helped her back into the room before explaining the situation.
The allocation of charcoal for winter heating in each palace followed a fixed quota.
For instance, the Empress residing in Kunning Palace received twenty catties of Hongluotan and sixty catties of Heitan daily in winter, and ten catties of Hongluotan and thirty catties of Heitan daily in summer.①
Hongluotan was the highest quality charcoal—not only long-burning but also odorless and producing strong heat, while Heitan was of a lower grade.
Guaerjia, having been a palace maid during the late emperor’s reign, naturally did not qualify for Hongluotan. Her quota was twenty catties of Heitan daily in winter and ten catties daily in summer.
Though it couldn’t compare to that of higher-ranking mistresses, it was more than enough to stay warm through the winter.
Charcoal distribution occurred once a month.
At the end of each month, the Yingzaosi (a department of the Imperial Household Department) would send personnel to deliver the following month’s charcoal to each palace.
Today was the thirteenth day of the first lunar month. The charcoal used in Qianxi Sisuo this month had been distributed on the thirty-first day of the twelfth month.
Having been used for nearly half a month, why was there a problem now?
Meeting Su Muyao’s puzzled gaze, Yun Mo was filled with remorse and self-blame. She lowered her head and whispered, “At the time, I was so worried that the Yingzaosi people might shortchange us on charcoal that I focused all my attention on the scale.”
In other words, the weight of the allocated charcoal was not an issue.
Then it must be a problem with the quality.
Su Muyao pondered, “Adulterating charcoal is a serious crime.”
During the reign of Taizu Huangdi, the Imperial Household Department had adulterated charcoal for palace consorts, provoking his fury. He punished a large number of people and issued a strict decree.
Henceforth, anyone found adulterating charcoal would be executed immediately upon discovery.
After all, though charcoal might seem insignificant, the safety risks were considerable. Once adulterated, the likelihood of explosion during burning increased significantly, and the thick smoke produced could damage the palace.
Throughout history, emperors could never afford to be careless when it came to matters concerning their own safety.
How dare the Yingzaosi personnel do such a thing?
Yun Mo soon answered her question. Wringing her hands uneasily, she said, “Mistress, it’s not adulteration—it’s water damage. I just checked, and in the baskets of charcoal we received this month, the top layers are fine, but more than half of the bottom layers are damp and won’t burn.”
It wasn’t Yun Mo’s fault; she had been quite meticulous. After inspecting once and confirming that it was indeed the designated Heitan and the weight was correct, she had accepted it with relief.
Even if she had suspicions, the charcoal was so heavy that a young maid like her couldn’t possibly turn over each piece to check for dampness.
Yun Mo asked worriedly, “Mistress, what should we do now?”
Su Muyao sighed and said, “There’s nothing we can do. We’ll just have to swallow this bitter pill ourselves.”
If the charcoal had been adulterated, she wouldn’t have been afraid—it would have been like the Yingzaosi handing her leverage. With their leverage in her grasp, she would no longer have to worry about winter charcoal.
But it just had to be water-damaged charcoal.
Even if she went to argue, Yingzaosi could easily turn the tables and claim that the charcoal was delivered in perfect condition, and it was only because the palace attendants of Qianxi Sisuo stored it improperly that it became damp.
Now, with so much time having passed since the day the charcoal was distributed, how could she possibly explain it clearly?
Come to think of it, she had to blame her own current situation—having no background or status in the palace, she naturally became an easy target for deductions and mistreatment from all sides.
If it were in the palaces of those higher-ranking masters, how would they dare to play such tricks?