“Raise your head.”
Xiao Yu’s voice was low, yet it carried an invisible command that made Lin Qianqian’s tightly wound nerves jolt sharply. She obeyed, slowly lifting her head, her gaze inevitably meeting his bottomless eyes.
The candlelight danced in them, reflecting her slightly pale face and the eyes that tried to remain calm but still betrayed a hint of unease.
He didn’t speak immediately, only quietly observing her.
His gaze felt heavy, scrutinizing every inch of her features, her stubbornness, and the desperate courage hidden deep in her eyes.
Time flowed silently. Lin Qianqian could almost hear her own blood rushing in her ears. Her hands, folded in front of her, unconsciously twisted the hem of her clothes, her fingertips turning slightly white from the pressure. She was gambling—gambling on his reliance on her skills, on his intolerance for the petty schemes within the manor, and most of all, on the basic care a superior might show to someone under their charge.
Finally, Xiao Yu’s gaze left her face and returned to the massive map before him, as if the long scrutiny had never happened.
He picked up the vermilion pen by his side, tracing a light mark on the map, his tone so calm it could have been a discussion of the moonlight tonight:
“Approved.”
The simple two words struck Lin Qianqian like a thunderclap. She could hardly believe her ears; a wave of immense relief surged through her, making her eyes sting. She quickly lowered her head again, her voice trembling despite her efforts to contain it: “Thank you for your grace, Your Highness!”
“Stand up.” Xiao Yu still didn’t look at her, his eyes focused on the map. “Since you’ve made a military pledge, remember your words. My eyes don’t overlook anything.”
The last sentence suddenly carried a chilling authority, leaving no room for doubt—a warning and command in one.
“Yes! I shall give my utmost effort, even at the cost of my life!” Lin Qianqian promised solemnly, then felt her legs weaken slightly as she stood.
“Leave now.” Xiao Yu waved his hand, his attention fully absorbed in the map depicting the vast rivers and mountains of the kingdom.
“Your servant takes her leave.” Lin Qianqian bowed and stepped out of the study, gently closing the door behind her.
Only after passing through the door and feeling the cool night air did she dare to take a deep breath, her back soaked in cold sweat. She leaned against the chilly column, calming her still-racing heart. She had succeeded! She had secured for herself a crucial protective measure!
The next day, an order was issued from the prince’s study, conveyed by Uncle Fu, quickly spreading throughout the manor: From now on, Lin Qianqian, manager of the small kitchen, shall exclusively prepare meals for the prince. No one in the inner court may assign her or her kitchen staff to prepare meals or requisition ingredients for any other purpose without the prince’s explicit permission. Any violation will be severely punished.
This order acted as an invisible boundary, clearly defining Lin Qianqian’s responsibilities and temporarily isolating her from the intricate web of inner-court politics. While being “exclusively responsible for the prince” meant greater responsibility and pressure, it also minimized the chance of people like Consort Liu exploiting her for petty schemes.
When the news reached Lanyue Pavilion, it was said that Consort Liu was so furious she smashed a set of fine imperial porcelain tea ware and vented her anger on her maids, leaving the pavilion under a tense atmosphere for the whole day.
In the small kitchen, the atmosphere subtly shifted as well.
The staff now regarded Lin Qianqian with a mixture of respect and distance. She was no longer just a new manager who could occasionally joke or be subtly undermined; she had been given explicit authority by the prince, wielding real power, and responsible only to him. Even Chun Tao, when speaking to her, unconsciously became more proper.
Lin Qianqian observed their reactions and understood clearly.
This order protected her but also isolated her.
She was no longer just a cook—she was the prince’s “exclusive” in the realm of food. This honor was both an opportunity and a burden.
She felt no pride, only calm. Beyond carefully refining soup and meal recipes suited to Xiao Yu’s health and taste, she strictly managed her kitchen staff and resources, ensuring every process remained under her control.
She knew that Liu Rusi would not give up so easily. If the official path was blocked, covert schemes would become even more unpredictable. Within this “boundary,” she had to fortify her own stronghold.
That day, she was inspecting a new batch of medicinal ingredients, gently pinching each piece of astragalus to check its texture and aroma. Sunlight filtered through the window lattice, casting soft shadows across her focused profile.
Uncle Fu quietly entered, wearing his usual warm smile, though his tone carried a subtle warning: “Miss Lin, the prince’s appetite has improved greatly, thanks to your efforts. However…” He paused, lowering his voice slightly, “the tree may wish for stillness, but the wind does not cease. Your status has changed, so you must be careful with your words and actions. Some rumors you may hear—do not take them to heart, and… do not probe too deeply.”
Lin Qianqian’s fingers paused on the herbs. Uncle Fu was warning her that although Consort Liu could not directly interfere with the kitchen for now, she could still spread damaging rumors. Telling her “not to probe” suggested that the prince might know some things but would not intervene… yet.
She lifted her head and gave Uncle Fu a grateful, obedient smile. “Thank you for the reminder, Uncle Fu. I understand. I will focus solely on my duties and dare not overthink or ask about anything else.”
Uncle Fu nodded in satisfaction, exchanged a few casual words, and left.
Watching him leave, Lin Qianqian’s smile faded. Rumors, huh? She was curious to see what tricks Liu Rusi could come up with next.