One meal of spicy hotpot completely changed Xiao Jingshi’s impression of Ye An’an.
This woman no longer seemed like the spoiled, brainless girl who had once clung to him at every opportunity.
She was flamboyant, yet not irritating. Direct, yet with her own sense of propriety and boundaries.
Especially her cooking…
After returning to Jingming Hall, the lingering spicy, numbing fragrance still clung to Xiao Jingshi’s lips, leaving him, for the first time in his life, feeling a trace of aftertaste—of longing.
However, in the following days, nothing more was sent from Tinglan Waterside Pavilion.
It was as if Ye An’an had forgotten he existed. She lived comfortably in her small courtyard, enjoying herself thoroughly, never again mentioning sending him food.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, that stirred a faint irritation in his heart.
Winter soon arrived in the capital.
That morning, after spending hours handling state affairs in the council hall, Xiao Jingshi felt his stomach empty.
Changting brought breakfast from the imperial kitchen—still the same light porridge and side dishes.
Xiao Jingshi took one glance and completely lost his appetite.
He set down his chopsticks. Somehow, his thoughts drifted back to that day’s flavors.
The more he thought about it, the worse he felt.
That woman—could she not send something again? Even that… what was it called? Jianbing?
He felt a flicker of regret for having rejected it that morning.
“Changting,” he suddenly said.
“This servant is here.”
“That jianbing from that day… what did it taste like?” Xiao Jingshi asked as though casually.
Changting froze for a moment, then instantly understood—his master was craving it!
He immediately described it vividly: “Your Highness, the pancake was fragrant and crisp. The egg inside was tender like tofu. And the sauce—savory with a hint of sweetness—plus the crunchy fried dough… Ah! This servant has never tasted anything so delicious in his life!”
He was practically drooling as he spoke.
Xiao Jingshi’s throat bobbed involuntarily.
He felt even hungrier.
And even more irritable.
He waved a hand, signaling for the bland breakfast to be cleared away, his resentment toward that heartless woman deepening by another degree.
At that very moment, the “heartless” Ye An’an was bustling in the small kitchen of Tinglan Waterside Pavilion.
Winter had come. Cold weather called for warm food.
Today she was making two types of steamed dumplings—shrimp with diced bamboo shoots, and mushroom with minced pork—along with a pot of warming oden.
Fu Yun and Chen Zhu helped at her side, one rolling wrappers, the other shaping dumplings. The three worked together seamlessly.
Inside the steamer, plump white dumplings sat in neat rows, thin-skinned and generously filled, looking irresistibly appetizing.
In a clay pot nearby, broth made from kombu and bonito flakes simmered gently. Skewers of daikon radish, konjac knots, tofu pouches, fish balls, and chikuwa bobbed in the golden soup, releasing a warm, comforting aroma.
“Wow, Your Highness, this smells amazing too!” Fu Yun sniffed blissfully.
“It’s called oden. Perfect for winter,” Ye An’an replied, tending the fire. “When the dumplings are ready, we’ll dip them in the sauce I made. You’ll lose your eyebrows from how good it is.”
When everything was done, Ye An’an, as usual, set aside the best portion first.
“Chen Zhu, deliver this to Mother Empress,” she instructed.
Though she disliked formal greetings, appearances still mattered. Sending food occasionally to build goodwill never hurt.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Chen Zhu carried the food box to Fengyi Palace.
Inside Fengyi Palace, Empress Wei was reading with the young Seventh and Ninth Princes. Though born of other consorts, the two boys were raised under her care.
When Chen Zhu arrived, Empress Wei was slightly surprised.
Upon opening the box and seeing the gold-ingot-shaped dumplings and a steaming bowl of oden rich with ingredients, a faint smile flickered in her eyes.
This daughter-in-law knew how to behave.
“Sent by the Crown Prince’s consort?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Our mistress said the weather has turned cold and prepared something warm for you to taste.”
Empress Wei nodded and had the food served.
She picked up a translucent shrimp dumpling first.
The sweetness of shrimp, the crunch of bamboo shoots, and the tender wrapper melded perfectly in her mouth. Her eyes brightened.
A sip of oden broth followed—clear, sweet, and warming. The chill in her body seemed to melt away.
“Mm. Not bad,” she praised—rare indeed.
The Seventh and Ninth Princes had long been captivated by the fragrance, staring eagerly.
“Royal Sister-in-law, what is this? It smells so good!” the Seventh Prince asked.
“It was sent by your Crown Prince’s consort. You may try some as well,” Empress Wei smiled.
The two boys cheered, each grabbing a mushroom pork dumpling.
“So good!”
“Way better than the imperial kitchen!”
They devoured their portions quickly and then stared longingly at the remaining dumplings.
“Mother, is there more? I want more,” the Ninth Prince tugged at her sleeve.
“There’s no more. Your sister-in-law only sent this much.”
The boys looked crestfallen.
The Seventh Prince’s eyes suddenly sparkled. He whispered to his brother, “Let’s go to the Eastern Palace and ask Sister-in-law for more. She must have extra!”
The Ninth Prince nodded vigorously.
And so, two little foodies slipped out and, asking for directions along the way, made their way straight to Tinglan Waterside Pavilion.
When they arrived, Ye An’an and Fu Yun were eating happily in the courtyard.
“Royal Sister-in-law!”
At the sound of the crisp childish voice, Ye An’an looked up to see two adorable little bundles standing at the gate, staring longingly at the food on her table.
She recognized them from the earlier greetings—the Seventh and Ninth Princes.
She immediately laughed. Had they followed the scent?
“Oh! Your Highnesses are here—come in, come in!”
The boys ran in eagerly, their eyes glued to the dumplings and oden.
“Royal Sister-in-law, can we have a little more?” the Seventh Prince asked, gazing up with shining hope.
“Of course! As much as you like!”
Ye An’an adored children—especially such cute little food lovers. She had Fu Yun fetch clean bowls and brought out another fresh steamer basket.
The boys ate joyfully, praising between mouthfuls, “One hundred times better than the imperial kitchen!”
Ye An’an burst into laughter, and the courtyard filled with warmth and cheerful noise.
At that moment, Xiao Jingshi, having finished his affairs and in a poor mood, returned to the Eastern Palace.
As he stepped into Tinglan Waterside Pavilion, he froze.
His secondary consort was laughing brightly, enthusiastically serving food to his two younger brothers—boys who were usually somewhat afraid of him.
Now their faces were smeared with oil, glowing with happiness.
On the stone table lay the very steaming dishes he had been craving all morning.
The warm, lively scene stood in stark contrast to his own cold solitude.
Xiao Jingshi remained standing at the entrance, as if rooted in place.
For a moment, he did not know whether to step forward— or turn back.