Xiao Yu’s sudden appearance made the air in the kitchen freeze instantly.
Master Zhang fell to his knees with a thud, hastily speaking, his voice trembling with fear and grievance: “Your Highness, forgive me! It is my fault for failing to supervise properly! Lin Qianshan’s mishandling caused the clay pot to shatter and disturbed Your Highness. I deserve death for my crimes!” He had skillfully bundled the “damage to imperial property” and “disturbing the prince” into one plea.
Lin Qianshan endured the burning pain in her arm and knelt as well, but she did not rush to explain.
She drew her scalded arm slightly back into her sleeve, lowered her head, exposing a patch of fair nape.
Her posture was fragile, yet carried a silent stubbornness.
Xiao Yu’s gaze swept briefly over Master Zhang without lingering, finally settling on Lin Qianshan. “Stand and respond.” His voice revealed no emotion.
Obediently, both rose. Master Zhang opened his mouth to speak again, but a single glance from Xiao Yu silenced him immediately, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
Xiao Yu walked slowly to the pile of broken fragments, squatting down. His long fingers picked up a larger shard, inspecting the crack carefully against the light. His movements were calm and deliberate, exuding an unshakable sense of scrutiny.
Lin Qianshan held her breath, watching his focused profile. The firelight from the still-glowing stove highlighted the sharp lines of his jaw—and illuminated a tiny but unmistakable old crack running along the inner bottom of the pot.
Her heart jumped violently.
Xiao Yu’s fingers traced the old crack lightly, his eyes darkening. He stood and tossed the fragment back to the floor, the crisp sound startling Master Zhang into a shiver.
“Master Fu,” Xiao Yu called.
“I am here,” Fu replied, having arrived silently and bowing respectfully.
“Investigate. Every vessel in the small kitchen—storage, distribution, usage—question every person involved. Also, summon Imperial Physician Shen.” Xiao Yu’s voice was low, yet carried absolute authority.
“Yes, Your Highness.” Fu obeyed, casting a meaningful glance at Master Zhang before swiftly moving to carry out the orders.
Master Zhang’s face instantly turned ashen, his body trembling uncontrollably. He had not expected the prince to personally examine the shards, nor to order a full investigation with such decisiveness.
Xiao Yu then turned his attention to Lin Qianshan, his gaze falling on her still-clutching arm. “Injured?”
She had not expected him to ask first, and hesitated for a moment before quietly replying, “Your Highness, only a few splashes of hot oil. It is nothing serious.”
Xiao Yu stepped two paces closer. His imposing figure exuded pressure; Lin Qianshan instinctively wanted to retreat but forced herself to remain. He extended a hand—not to touch, but signaling her with his eyes to lift her arm.
She hesitated, then slowly raised her scalded arm. The back of her hand and a small section of her forearm bore several vivid red marks, some with tiny blisters that stood out sharply against her fair skin.
She felt his gaze on the injuries, assessing them—perhaps even with a hint of… displeasure?
“Rinse it with cold water,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Wait for the physician to treat it.”
“Yes.” Lin Qianshan whispered, turning to the water tub.
She scooped icy water with a wooden ladle, slowly pouring it over the burns.
The biting cold temporarily subdued the burning pain, letting her exhale lightly.
Xiao Yu remained close behind, silently observing her back, noting the tension in her shoulders and the careful way she treated the wound.
The kitchen was filled only with the sound of water and the restrained breathing of those present.
Imperial Physician Shen arrived shortly after, inspecting the injuries meticulously. He applied a specialized burn ointment and wrapped it in clean cotton cloth, advising: “Handled in time. No damage to the core. Avoid water and strain in the coming days; nurture it carefully, and it will leave no scars.”
“Thank you, Physician,” Lin Qianshan said, her voice full of gratitude.
Fu returned shortly, holding the storeroom log and several similar fragments, whispering a few details into Xiao Yu’s ear.
Xiao Yu listened without changing expression, then shifted his gaze to the ashen-faced Master Zhang.
“Zhang Dehai.”
“I… I am here, Your Highness,” Master Zhang stammered, dropping to his knees again, his voice trembling beyond control.
“Negligence in managing utensils causing injury—that is one,” Xiao Yu said coldly, his voice like a winter wind. “Improper conduct before Your Highness, and attempts at deception and framing—that is two. Do you understand your crimes?”
Master Zhang kowtowed repeatedly. “I know my sins! I know my sins! I beg Your Highness for mercy! Have mercy!” He understood that Xiao Yu’s use of the word “framing” meant he believed Lin Qianshan and had the evidence.
“Considering your long service in this household, death is spared,” Xiao Yu said, giving him a glimmer of hope—before extinguishing it: “Drag him out. Fifty strokes of the rod, stripped of the head chef post, sent to labor at the estate, never to be employed here again!”
“Your Highness! Have mercy!” Master Zhang’s anguished cries were abruptly cut off as two guards dragged him away, his voice fading into the distance.
The kitchen fell into tense silence. The eyes of everyone present turned to Lin Qianshan, filled with awe and complex emotions.
Xiao Yu’s gaze shifted back to her bandaged arm.
“Rest and take care of your injury these few days,” he said, pausing briefly, “The small kitchen will be under your charge. Report to Master Fu if you need anything.”
This statement stunned not only the others but Lin Qianshan herself.
He intended… to let her temporarily manage the small kitchen?
“Yes… Your Highness,” she said, suppressing the waves of shock, bowing in acknowledgment.
Xiao Yu spoke no more and turned to leave. As he passed her, the flutter of his sleeve brought a faint chill that brushed against her bandaged arm. The spot he had just looked at seemed to still carry a trace of the warmth from his gaze.
Lin Qianshan stood rooted, staring at the uncleaned shards on the floor, feeling the cool ointment and lingering ache on her arm. Her emotions were a complex mix.
He had believed her, protected her, and even entrusted her with greater responsibility. This safeguarding had come suddenly, decisively.
Yet, taking down Master Zhang—did that truly make her safe? And from Lady Liu’s faction… this temporary authority—was it an opportunity, or the beginning of an even greater danger?