The banquet reached its golden hour.
Lanterns glowed in every corner of the Duke's hall, painting the guests in molten light. The air was rich with music, laughter, and the scent of roasted duck and sweet lotus soup. Crystal cups clinked like chimes. Servants hurried through rows of noble guests, pouring warm plum wine and setting out dish after dish that shimmered with color.
It was a picture of wealth and peace—except that half the credit belonged not to royal chefs, but to a small restaurant that no one expected to outshine the palace kitchens.
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The Feast of Praise
"Magnificent!" exclaimed Lord Zhang, pounding his cup on the table. "I've eaten at the Imperial Banquet, and still this stew—this stew!—tastes like home and heaven mixed together!"
"Try the fish," Lady Ming cried. "The sauce has ginger, yes, but something else—something bright! What is it?"
