Chapter 24
Chapter 24: The Emperor Ate Three Bowls of Rice
Beside her, A Dai stayed quiet, clumsy but sincere as he followed the little princess’s instructions, using sturdier tools to turn the soil and shape neat ridges.
Consort Li rolled up her sleeves, sweat beading at her temples. She carefully planted the potato tubers Tian Tian had brought out, burying each one with a reverence that looked almost like prayer.
“Sweetie is amazing,” Consort Li said, smiling warmly. “And A Dai, you’ve worked hard too.”
She watched the pair—one small, one taller—busy in the dirt, and her eyes softened with a tenderness so deep it almost hurt.
Who would have imagined the Cold Palace could hide something like this?
A home.
Ahem.
A light cough came from the doorway.
The emperor stood at the courtyard gate, staring at the scene like he’d wandered into the wrong world. For a heartbeat, he looked almost dazed.
This… was the Cold Palace?
No scheming. No honeyed lies. Only the scent of fresh earth—and the quiet warmth of a family.
It felt, absurdly, more comforting than Golden Throne Hall.
“Imperial Father!” Tian Tian’s eyes lit up. She shot forward like a tiny cannonball, wrapped her muddy hands around his leg, and beamed up at him.
“Look, Imperial Father! Tian Tian and Mother are planting a big treasure! A super big treasure! It’s a secret for now—when it grows, it’ll scare you!”
The emperor laughed, then bent and scooped her up without a hint of disgust, mud and all. He tapped her nose affectionately. “All right. Imperial Father will wait for Sweetie’s surprise.”
His gaze shifted to Consort Li, and it softened.
Consort Li hurriedly saluted. “Your Majesty, may you be well. Have you eaten lunch? If you don’t mind the Cold Palace’s roughness…”
“I haven’t eaten.” The emperor cut in with startling cheerfulness, like he’d been waiting for an excuse. “I’m hungry. I’ll eat here.”
Chief Eunuch Wu Ya nearly swallowed his own tongue.
His Majesty… dining in the Cold Palace?
This was against every rule carved into stone and hammered into bone. And the Imperial Kitchen had been tearing its hair out over His Majesty’s appetite—what could the Cold Palace possibly offer?
Consort Li froze for half a beat, then her eyes brightened. “Yes. This concubine will prepare it at once. Please wait, Your Majesty.”
She hurried toward the small kitchen, steps quick and eager, like someone had lit a fire under her feet.
Not long after, a handful of simple home-style dishes appeared on the plain wooden table: bright stir-fried greens, silky steamed egg custard, a bowl of thick rice porridge, and a small dish of crisp pickled cucumbers Consort Li had made herself.
The emperor waved away attendants. He picked up his chopsticks and ate.
“Mm… this egg custard…” Tender and smooth, perfectly set.
“These pickled cucumbers…” Crisp and bright, with a faint sweetness at the end.
“This porridge…” Soft and fragrant, warming straight through to the stomach.
One bowl… two bowls… three.
He ate like a man starving for something he couldn’t name, head down, chopsticks flashing, sweeping the table clean like it was a feast of immortals.
Wu Ya stared, eyes wide—then felt a sting behind them.
He almost cried on the spot.
Heavens. How long had it been since His Majesty ate like this? With this kind of ease?
This wasn’t rough Cold Palace food.
This was a miracle.
When the emperor set down his third empty bowl, he looked almost reluctant. “Is there more rice?”
Consort Li glanced at the empty pot and went still, flustered. “Your Majesty… I didn’t expect… I cooked too little…”
The emperor smacked his lips like an annoyed child. “Fine, fine. Next time—next time cook more.”
Wu Ya rubbed his hands so hard they nearly sparked.
Next time.
His Majesty was already thinking about next time.
Consort Li… was going to rise again.
The next day, Zheng Kun returned to the Royal Academy with his pride still in pieces. He kept his head down and walked carefully, like the air itself might laugh at him.
Meanwhile, Chu Tian Tian’s corner of the courtyard looked like a festival.
Several prettily dressed little girls crowded around her, chirping like excited sparrows.
“Princess Tian Tian, this is for you! My mother made these osmanthus cakes herself—so sweet!”
“Tian Tian, Tian Tian! Try my candied fruit! Thank you for beating that annoying Zheng Kun!”
“Yes! He always called us stupid. Now he’s the real big idiot! Princess Tian Tian is the best!”
They tried to pile snacks into her arms until she was practically buried.
Tian Tian’s eyes curved into happy crescents. Then she remembered something and said brightly, “On the tenth, Imperial Father is throwing me a celebration banquet! Sisters, come play, okay? I’ll have the Imperial Kitchen make the best snacks for everyone!”
A princess’s personal invitation.
The girls nearly squealed themselves breathless. “Really?!” “That’s amazing!” “I’m going!” “Thank you, Princess Tian Tian!”
Off in a corner, Chu Jiao Jiao twisted her handkerchief like she wanted to strangle someone with it.
Those girls had been her followers.
Now they swarmed around Chu Tian Tian like she was the sun.
Chu Jiao Jiao’s chest burned. “Hmph. Shallow-eyed fools,” she muttered through her teeth, face twisting. “All she did was memorize a broken book. What’s there to brag about?”
She turned to leave—and immediately collided with a human cannonball.
“Move, move! You’re blocking my road!”
A stocky figure in brocade riding clothes barreled through the courtyard. Chu Jiao Jiao couldn’t dodge in time.
Bang.
She stumbled back with a yelp.
“Watch it—” she snapped, then looked up and swallowed the rest.
Xie Jun Yi.
The Vice Minister of War’s infamous little devil.
Only seven years old and already the academy’s most headache-inducing menace. He loved weapons, shouting, and chaos. Even the big yellow dog guarding the gates would tuck its tail and slink away when it saw him coming.
Teachers always sighed when his name came up. Smart, yes—but wasted on everything except trouble. Skipping class and vanishing for days was practically his hobby.
Xie Jun Yi rubbed his arm, glanced at her, and gave a sloppy salute. “Sorry, Princess Ying Yue. Didn’t see you.”
He turned to bolt.
“Xie Jun Yi!” Chu Jiao Jiao called sharply, forcing her face into worried concern as she hurried after him. “Stop.”
“What?” He twisted his head impatiently, clearly already thinking about whatever mess he planned next.
Chu Jiao Jiao leaned closer and lowered her voice, like she was doing him a favor. “You still have the mood to play? Do you know what that new Chu Tian Tian has been saying about you behind your back?”
“Chu Tian Tian?” Xie Jun Yi blinked, blank. He’d been skipping school and hadn’t even heard the name.
“The three-year-old they shoved into Sun-Chasing Class,” Chu Jiao Jiao said, voice dropping even lower, urgency sharpened into spite. “She’s so smug now, her tail is practically in the clouds. She says you’re a useless brute who only fights and learns nothing—making the academy lose face.”
She paused, letting the hook sink in, then smiled thinly. “And she says… even a three-year-old milk baby like her is a hundred, a thousand times better than you.”