The small kitchen at Tinglan Waterside Pavilion soon filled with an unprecedentedly bold and domineering aroma.
Ye An’an rolled up her sleeves and stood confidently before the stove.
She had Fu Yun mix flour with coarse grain flour and water into a batter of just the right consistency. Chen Zhu chopped scallions and cilantro into fine bits. From her dowry, Ye An’an even dug out a jar of her mother’s homemade secret soybean paste.
Everything was ready.
She had a young eunuch stoke the fire high, heating a flat iron griddle until it was scorching hot, then brushing it with a thin layer of oil.
Scooping up a ladle of batter, she poured it into the center of the griddle. Taking a special bamboo spreader, she flicked her wrist and swiftly spread the batter into a thin, even circle.
“Wow—” Fu Yun stared in astonishment. “Your Highness, you know how to do this?”
“Back in the day, I was practically—” Ye An’an almost let slip “the last disciple of Old Wang from the pancake stall downstairs,” but quickly changed her words. “—I learned it from books in my dreams. This is called fast food. Quick, convenient, and delicious!”
She spoke while her hands never stopped moving.
As soon as the batter set, she cracked two eggs on top, using the other end of the bamboo tool to spread them evenly across the surface.
A sprinkle of black sesame seeds. A handful of bright green scallions.
The fragrance of egg, scallion, and sesame exploded in the kitchen, instantly awakening everyone’s appetite.
Once the egg was set, she deftly flipped the pancake. The surface was golden and lightly blistered, patterned with tiger-like spots.
Next, she brushed on a layer of soybean paste, added chopped fried dough sticks for crunch, and a few fresh lettuce leaves.
Fold the sides inward, then fold it in half—
A steaming, fragrant jianbing was complete.
“Done!” Ye An’an proudly handed the first one to Fu Yun. “Taste it!”
Fu Yun had long been tortured by the aroma. Ignoring the heat, she carefully took it and bit down.
“Mmm—!!”
Her eyes widened instantly.
With her mouth stuffed full, she could only nod frantically.
The outer layer was crisp yet pliant, the egg tender, the sauce savory, the fried dough crunchy, the lettuce refreshing—every flavor and texture blended perfectly. It was so delicious it almost made one want to cry.
Chen Zhu stood nearby, saying nothing, but swallowing repeatedly.
At that moment, a second-tier maid named Cui Die’s eyes darted about. Taking advantage of the extra and slightly misshapen ones, she quietly grabbed a few and slipped out of the kitchen.
Cui Die had been assigned by the Imperial Household Department. Quick-witted and ambitious, she was always seeking a chance to rise in status.
She thought this was her opportunity.
At the main kitchen, she carefully packed the jianbing into an elegant food box and hurried excitedly toward Jingming Hall.
Inside Jingming Hall, Xiao Jingshi had just finished reviewing several urgent military reports. He lifted his teacup to moisten his throat.
Changting entered with a refined food box in hand.
“Your Highness, a palace maid named Cui Die from Tinglan Waterside Pavilion has delivered breakfast,” Changting said, his expression slightly strange.
When the lid was opened, a rich and complex fragrance wafted out.
Xiao Jingshi had severe mysophobia. His food standards were equally strict—he only ate certain dishes prepared by specific imperial chefs, and they had to be light and delicate.
The oil-paper-wrapped object before him clearly met none of those standards.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Your Highness, the maid said it’s called… jianbing,” Changting replied, trying to recall the name.
It did smell quite good.
But the moment Xiao Jingshi thought of that clingy woman, his appetite vanished.
“Take it away.”
His tone was flat, as if the enticing aroma had no effect whatsoever.
“Yes, Your Highness.” Changting sighed inwardly. He had expected as much.
He carried the box out. Outside the hall, Cui Die waited eagerly.
“Eunuch Changting, did His Highness… did His Highness eat it?” she asked hopefully.
Changting shook his head. “His Highness isn’t hungry. Take it back.”
Cui Die’s face fell instantly.
Changting looked at the still-steaming jianbing inside the box. The aroma made his mouth water. Almost against his will, he said, “But… it would be a pity to throw it away.”
Cui Die understood at once. If she could curry favor with Changting, wouldn’t getting close to the Crown Prince be easier later?
She nodded eagerly, smiling ingratiatingly. “If Eunuch Changting likes it, then it hasn’t been wasted. Please enjoy.”
So Changting stood under the corridor of Jingming Hall and, in no time at all, polished off the enormous jianbing.
After finishing, he had only one thought: My heavens—what divine delicacy is this? His Highness not eating it is the greatest loss of his life!
Back at Tinglan Waterside Pavilion, Ye An’an and her two maids had each eaten a jianbing and were now sipping tea contentedly.
“Miss Fu Yun, Cui Die is back,” a cleaning maid reported.
Fu Yun immediately went out to question her. “Cui Die, where did you rush off to so early in the morning?”
Given that their mistress was not favored, Fu Yun had to be extra vigilant to prevent outsiders from meddling in their courtyard.
Cui Die’s face turned pale. “I… I went to relieve myself.”
“Several people saw you leave the courtyard,” Fu Yun pressed, pointing at the other maids.
“I—I had terrible stomach pain,” Cui Die muttered.
Fu Yun exploded. “Still lying? Still lying! Did you take Her Highness’s jianbing to Jingming Hall?!”
Ye An’an paused mid-sip and lifted her gaze toward Cui Die. Her eyes turned cold.
It wasn’t about a pancake.
It was about overstepping.
If today she dared to take things without permission, tomorrow she might cause trouble outside under her mistress’s name.
“Your Highness, I was wrong! I just thought… thought it would be a waste of your cooking…” Cui Die fell to her knees with a thud.
“Shall I let you run this courtyard instead?” Ye An’an set down her teacup. Her voice was calm but carried unquestionable authority. “You took my things without reporting. That is theft. Chen Zhu.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Take her to Steward Liu. Tell him my Tinglan Pavilion is too small to house such a grand Buddha. Send her back to wherever she came from.”
This punishment was more severe than a beating.
Being returned to the Imperial Household Department by one’s mistress meant a grim fate.
Cui Die was terrified, clutching Ye An’an’s leg and wailing, “Your Highness, mercy! I won’t dare again!”
Ye An’an did not even spare her a glance.
Chen Zhu dragged the sobbing girl toward the courtyard gate.
Before they got far, Cui Die suddenly cried out toward a middle-aged eunuch at the entrance as if grabbing a lifeline. “Steward Liu! Steward Liu, save me! The Crown Prince’s consort is dismissing me without cause!”
The newcomer was indeed one of the Eastern Palace stewards—Liu Guanshi.
He had come upon hearing the commotion. Seeing the scene, he quickly assessed the situation.
He was the type who judged according to favor. In his eyes, this newly arrived secondary consort was unloved—a perfect opportunity to assert authority.
Clearing his throat, he adopted an official tone. “Crown Prince’s Consort, what is this about? For such a minor matter, dismissing a palace maid seems… somewhat harsh.”
His words subtly accused Ye An’an of overreacting.
Ye An’an rose slowly and walked toward him with a faint smile.
“Are you saying I need your permission to discipline the maids in my own courtyard?”
“That is not what this servant means, only—”
“Only what?” Her smile vanished, her gaze turning icy. “Only that you think I’m a decorative consort and feel free to point fingers? Steward Liu, you wield quite the authority.”
Just as tension thickened in the air, a cool voice suddenly came from the courtyard gate.
“What is all this noise?”
Everyone turned.
Xiao Jingshi stood not far away, dressed in simple robes, his expression cold and sharp.
Behind him stood Changting, looking faintly guilty.
Steward Liu and Cui Die turned deathly pale.