Consort Zhang struggled to hold the spotlight as the main course faltered and whispers rose like smoke. But as one voice quieted, another began to rise—drawing the Emperor's gaze and the Dowager's favor. Could this quiet turn of events change everything?
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A soft whisper spread throughout the banquet hall as guests exchanged glances and quietly set their chopsticks aside.
The duck, which had been presented so elegantly, turned out to be a disappointment.
It tasted overly sweet and felt heavy, unlike the fresh and balanced flavor that the menu promised.
Consort Zhang's confident smile faltered, and her composure seemed fragile.
She was about to speak, ready to calm the room with smooth words and gentle excuses, when another voice cut through the murmur, clear and commanding.
"Who prepared this dish?" The Emperor's tone was sharp and decisive, silencing the room.
His eyes scanned the guests with intensity before landing on Zhang. She stood still, her almond-shaped eyes betraying a flicker of panic.
Despite this, she straightened up and forced a smile.
"Your Majesty, I oversaw—"
"That wasn't my question," the Emperor interrupted calmly.
"Who cooked it?"
Behind a decorative screen, Yue's heart raced.
This was her moment. It could lead to either failure or triumph.
She emerged from the shadows, her steps gentle on the plush carpet, drawing everyone's attention.
"I did, Your Majesty," Yue said softly but clearly. She wore no jewelry or fancy hairpiece—only a pale green dress with an apron.
Her presence was quiet yet firm.
Yue stood in front of the crowd and bowed slightly before speaking.
"The duck dish was prepared considering the Dowager Empress's preferences. It seems, however, that something was .... missing."
She stepped forward, holding a small porcelain jug with a soft amber glaze.
"Perhaps this may be the missing element."
She approached the Emperor's table and poured a thin stream of golden liquid over the remaining duck.
A fragrant scent rose, a sweet aroma balanced by a tangy note. It was honeyed vinegar, aged with orange peel.
The glaze gently sizzled over the warm duck, releasing a steam that curled upward like incense.
"Please try it now, Your Majesty," she encouraged.
With steady fingers, the Emperor reached for his chopsticks, his gaze fixed on the now-glistening dish.
The room was silent, filled with anticipation. He tasted a piece of duck drizzled with the shimmering glaze.
The moment it touched his tongue, he paused. The flavor of honeyed vinegar unfolded first—a bright, citrusy tang softened by the rich depth of aged plum.
The sweetness didn't weigh heavily but danced lightly on the palate, balanced with a subtle, sharp note.
He carefully lowered his chopsticks, his voice deep and layered with something unsaid.
"This… is what it was meant to be."
The room's atmosphere changed immediately. Seeing his response, the guests tried their portions again, and pleasure spread across their faces.
"It's much lighter—"
"Beautifully balanced—"
"A completely different dish!"
Praise flowed through the hall like a rising tide.
Consort Zhang's back stiffened. "Your Majesty," she interjected quickly, urgency in her voice,
"I oversaw the entire banquet. Of course, minor adjustments—"
Yue cut her off, her voice firm yet respectful.
"With respect, Your Majesty—what you tasted was not just a minor change," she stated clearly, her tone unwavering.
"The honeyed vinegar—was my idea, a final touch no one else was supposed to know about."
She bowed deeply to the Empress Dowager, the truth hanging heavily in the air.
This wasn't just about correcting a mistake. Everything about this moment was meticulously planned.
This was her answer to every sabotage, every stolen credit, every time she had been told to stay silent.
A profound silence followed.
"Your Majesty."
The head chef stepped forward, voice steady but reverent.
"Pardon this lowly one for the interruption, but it must be said."
He bowed deeply before continuing.
"Lady Yue has been running the kitchens for the last few days. She begins her work early, even before the candles are lit. When shipments arrived in bad condition, she salvaged them alone."
"She guided the staff gently, never needing to raise her voice, and she tasted every dish herself before it was served."
One by one, others followed.
"She rebalanced the soup when the spices turned bitter," murmured Chef Lin, stepping into view, his head respectfully bowed.
"She shaped the dumplings. Oversaw the plating. Calmed the staff when the orders turned to chaos."
"And the hawthorn dessert—" Apprentice Mei came forward, her voice soft, "She made it all by herself."
The kitchen staff's revelation struck like flint to stone, igniting a wave of gasps and whispers that traveled through the hall.
Yue's heartbeat pounded in her ears, and she felt a sudden tightness in her throat. Although her face remained calm, she felt overwhelmed inside.
She had never asked them to speak, nor did she imagine they would.
The kitchen maids brought the lacquered chest which held the hawthorn dessert.
Without a word, she stepped forward and steadily opened the lid, which released a gentle scent of plum wine into the air.
Inside lay skewers of candied hawthorn arranged perfectly on the silk. Each skewer glistened like red jewels in the lantern light.
A wave of whispers went through the room.
Even the Dowager Empress leaned in a bit.
Yue carefully held one skewer between her fingers.
"This is the last course, Your Majesty," she announced.
"It's a simple offering of candied hawthorn, slowly cooked in plum wine and honey then finished with a glaze of rose sugar and powdered blossoms."
She paused briefly.
"It's a childhood treat, usually found outside palace walls... but tonight, it is made for the imperial table."
Yue then turned to the Emperor and approached him with steady steps.
She respectfully offered it with both hands, eyes lowered.
The room became very quiet.
He brought the skewer to his lips and took a bite. The sugary shell crackled against his teeth.
First came the bright, sharp taste of sourness.
Then followed the deep, smooth flavor of plum wine, spreading warmth like an early spring sun.
After that, honey's soft, floral sweetness lingered, delicate as a memory.
He caught his breath as the aroma filled the air. The taste stayed with him, and his mind wandered to memory long ago.
Before he became Emperor, and before the stone walls and silence surrounded him.
There was a garden still touched by winter's cold. Plum blossoms floated on the breeze like forgotten promises.
He wore robes too formal for his age, his breath visible in the chilly air.
A small girl stood beside him, bundled in a pale blue coat. The cold had turned her cheeks pink, and she laughed with curved lips.
A skewer of candied hawthorn was held in her hands like a precious treasure.
They stood beneath a tree blooming too soon. The scents of plum and candied fruit mingled. He remembered her tilting her head and laughing when he frowned at the cold.
Now, in the present, the Emperor lowered his hand slowly.
He fixed his gaze on Yue.
The noise of the hall faded from his awareness.
She stood before him, her face slightly bowed, light accentuating the gentle curve of her cheek.
Older now. Her features were refined over time. Her eyes were quieter. But…
Could it be?
No… he told himself. It's impossible. That girl…
That girl had vanished with a kingdom.
The Emperor stayed silent. But the quiet that followed his bite spoke volumes.
Seated beside him, the Dowager Empress raised an eyebrow in curiosity.
The nobles began to taste the dessert with caution and excitement. One noble tried it, and then another followed.
The faint crunch of the dessert's glaze echoed through the hall, accompanied by surprised gasps and contented murmurs.
"This texture—"
"The scent reminds me of spring in full bloom—" "
It's so light, yet it stays with you..."
"The tartness is so pure—it clears the palate."
Praise for Yue's creation spread warmly across the room.
Even the skeptics now leaned in eagerly, eyes bright with nostalgia and enjoyment.
Around the room, noblewomen exchanged approving nods.
Several elderly officials smiled softly into their cups, touched by an indescribable feeling.
At last, the Dowager Empress tasted hers.
For a brief moment, she, too, was silent.
Then, a slight smile appeared, and she carefully placed the skewer back.
In the midst of all this, Consort Zhang remained still.
Her face, usually lively and charming, had grown pale under her makeup.
The Emperor snapped out of his memory and turned his attention to Consort Zhang.
"Consort Zhang," he said sharply.
"You took credit for work that wasn't yours. You accepted praise that belonged to someone else."
Zhang flinched and tried to explain.
"Your Majesty—on the Dowager Empress's birthday, I only meant—"
The Emperor interrupted,
"Out of respect for Her Majesty's birthday, I will let this rest—for now. But understand, Consort Zhang, disgrace does not fall on one person alone. It echoes through the name you carry.
Zhang bowed low, clearly shaken.
The Dowager Empress made no comments but signaled to Yue.
"Lady Yue, come forward."
Yue moved forward with her head lowered.
"You've caused quite a stir tonight, my dear," the Dowager said.
"But tell me, what ingredient holds the sugar glaze to the hawthorn without making it too heavy?"
Yue paused briefly before speaking.
"It's a little ground snow-peach kernel, Your Majesty," she answered softly.
The Dowager Empress nodded approvingly.
"Not many outside the Yun province would know such a detail."
The Emperor's gaze sharpened, his eyes fixed on Yue with the mention of the late Yun Kingdom.
Then Empress Dowager smiled at Yue and said,
"Tonight, you've shown us the real value of hard work,"
"You've demonstrated strength in difficult situations and humility in success. These are qualities that our court often overlooks."
She then turned to the Emperor.
"Your Majesty, how will you reward the individual who made my banquet a success?"
The Emperor gave a slight nod, speaking calmly.
"A promotion to First Class Attendant seems appropriate."
The Dowager Empress softly tapped her fan against her palm.
"I disagree," she said after a brief pause.
"Tonight, this court saw not only skill but also character. A woman who earns respect through quiet resilience deserves more than a modest promotion."
She raised her chin slightly.
"I propose she be given the title of Noble Lady—"
Gasps filled the hall.
The Empress was visibly surprised, the corners of her peaceful expression tightening slightly.
Across the room, Consort Zhang lifted her head in shock. Her painted lips parted, but no words emerged.
This was beyond a small promotion; it was unheard of for concubines to skip ranks.
Yue stood frozen, her heart pounding.
Noble Lady Yue?
Her thoughts raced.
Not in a million years would she have imagined this to happen.
She bowed deeply, her voice quiet and uncertain.
"I sincerely appreciate Her Majesty for this great honor, but I am not sure I deserve such grace."
The Dowager Empress continued to smile.
"You delivered the most memorable birthday banquet I have seen, and you are worthy of such."
The scribe stepped forward to record the decree: Second class attendant Yue was to be promoted to Noble Lady Yue.
Applause followed, though some clapped more out of politeness than sincerity.
Yue straightened slowly, her eyes meeting those of the Empress, whose expression was unreadable, though her silence spoke volumes.
She glanced at Zhang, who kept her head lowered, her face a perfect, unemotional mask.
Then Yue turned to the Emperor.
He was watching her.
But not with praise or admiration.
With something deeper. Sharper.
His gaze was intense—not cold, but probing.
Snow-peach kernel... Yun province... Where did she learn that?