What Qing Tian did for Consort Yang—making a few simple appetite-waking snacks—was never publicly announced.
Yet within certain quiet circles, the story spread on its own.
Among the low-ranked consorts with no favor and no backing, and among the palace maids and eunuchs who lived even further down the ladder, Qing Tian's image began to subtly change once more.
So this kitchen maid who dared to speak before the Emperor wasn't just reckless.
Her skills were real.
More importantly… she seemed willing to care about those below.
Not the kind of charity handed down from a lofty height, but a careful, thoughtful kind of effort—one born of understanding.
In a palace ruled by rigid hierarchies and unspoken cruelty, that impression was like a faint yet stubborn breeze, stirring hearts that had long gone numb or frozen solid.
Most people still didn't dare to approach her. Some didn't want to.
But when they looked at Qing Tian now, mixed in with fear, curiosity, and distance was something new—so faint it was almost unrecognizable.
Goodwill.
Or perhaps… expectation.
Naturally, none of this escaped the ever-watchful eyes of Changchun Palace.
When Consort Liu heard the news, she smashed the teacup in her hand to the floor.
"That wretched slave!" she snapped, chest heaving. "She's barely tasted a hint of favor and already thinks she can open her own dye workshop! Daring to bypass the Imperial Kitchen and secretly deliver food to a consort—does she think palace rules don't apply to her?!"
Her eyes flashed coldly.
"The Emperor said 'take another look' once, and she already dares to climb over my head. I say she's tired of living!"
"Please calm yourself, Your Grace," her trusted aide Lin Fu hurried forward, lowering his voice. "Consort Yang is insignificant—unfavored and powerless. She can't stir real trouble. Qing Tian's actions were improper, yes, but there was a reason, and Consort Yang accepted the kindness. If we move too aggressively now, it may make Your Grace appear petty and unforgiving."
He paused meaningfully.
"And the Emperor's attitude… is unclear. It would not look good."
Consort Liu drew several deep breaths, forcing the fury down.
Lin Fu was right. With the Emperor's stance unresolved, this was not the moment for open violence.
But her anger still needed an outlet.
And Qing Tian needed to be pressed harder.
"Pass word to Wang Youcai and Matron Liu," Consort Liu said coldly. "Tell them to keep a close watch on that little wretch. Doesn't she like showing off her skills?"
A thin, icy smile curved her lips.
"Then let her show them off properly. Every precious dishware returned from the consorts' palaces—jade bowls, rhinoceros horn cups, ivory chopsticks—hand them all to her to clean. And if even one piece is damaged…"
Her voice dropped.
"I'd like to see how many heads she has to pay with."
The order was carried out swiftly.
Qing Tian was removed from her usual tasks of washing vegetables and preparation, reassigned exclusively to cleaning valuable tableware returned from the various palaces.
On the surface, it seemed lighter work.
In truth, it was far more dangerous.
These items were priceless. A single chip, a faint scratch left behind, even an improper cleaning mark—any of it could become a serious crime. Worse still, the items passed through countless hands before reaching her. If someone tampered with one beforehand, Qing Tian would have no way to defend herself.
When she received the new assignment, Qing Tian immediately understood.
This was Consort Liu's warning.
And her trap.
She did not complain.
Instead, she became even more careful.
Before each wash, she inspected every piece in front of the delivering palace servants, clearly identifying any existing flaws. During cleaning, her movements were gentler than ever. Afterward, she inspected them again—only returning the item once she was certain nothing was amiss.
She even quietly spent the few copper coins she had saved to buy the softest cotton cloth she could find, reserved solely for polishing these precious objects.
Days passed in a state of surface calm, while the undercurrents grew stronger and more violent beneath.
Qing Tian felt like a string drawn to its absolute limit—bearing pressure from every direction, yet growing sharper under the strain.
She saw the rot in the Imperial Kitchen more clearly than ever.
The suspicious gaps in procurement accounts.
The obvious loopholes in supply management.
The "customs" that seemed reasonable on the surface but quietly crushed the lowest workers.
She recorded everything.
Short notes.
Carefully organized.
Locked away at the very bottom of her old wooden chest.
She was waiting.
Waiting for a moment that might never come.
And then—fate intervened.
Late April. A bright spring afternoon.
Qing Tian was in a quiet corner of the back courtyard, using the daylight to clean an ancient jade bowl from a previous dynasty—already bearing a hairline crack that required extreme care.
Footsteps entered the courtyard.
Swift.
Measured.
Solemn.
Gao Dequan appeared, accompanied by two young eunuchs. In his hands was a roll of bright yellow silk, so vivid in the sunlight it almost hurt the eyes.
"By Imperial Decree—"
The sharp, drawn-out proclamation rang out like thunder, exploding over the Imperial Kitchen—and into the hearts of everyone present.
All movement froze.
Every gaze snapped toward the center of the courtyard.
And then—inevitably—fell upon the slender figure slowly setting the jade bowl down, standing up with a trace of bewilderment on her face.
Qing Tian's heart leapt straight into her throat.
Then, in the next instant—
It dropped into a vast, empty silence.
What was coming… had finally arrived.
But would it be blessing Or calamity?