Qing Tian had expected Matron Liu's challenge.
She answered calmly, without hesitation.
"As for firewood," she said evenly, "I can first reduce my own allocation from Tingyu Pavilion. As for manpower—"
Her gaze swept across the courtyard.
"This extra meal is meant to benefit everyone. Then those who contribute should come from among those who benefit."
"No one will be forced."
"Volunteers only."
"Each day, one or two people whose workload is lighter can take turns tending the soup and flatbreads. The work is not heavy. It warms the body. Everyone rotates—fair and equal."
Her tone softened slightly, yet carried undeniable resolve.
"And those who volunteer will not work for nothing. Each day of service earns an extra work credit. At month's end, during evaluations and rewards, this will count as real merit."
She paused.
"Does this sound fair to everyone?"
Fair?
It was too fair.
A bit of extra effort. Hot soup when it was your turn. Additional work credit. A better chance at monthly rewards.
For the lowest people in the palace, this was nothing short of a blessing.
After a brief silence, an elderly eunuch in the corner—usually bent-backed, silent—slowly raised a trembling hand.
His voice was hoarse, shaking with disbelief.
"Q-Qing Meiren… this old servant… I'm too old for heavy labor. But watching the fire… stirring a pot… I can still do that."
"I… I'm willing to try."
It was like a switch had been flipped.
"I… I can help too.""Count me in."
The voices were quiet. Few.
But those scattered responses were like sparks in the dark—small, fragile, yet undeniably real.
Director Li watched the scene, emotions churning.
He had managed the Imperial Kitchen for years. He knew the numbness, the quiet despair of the lower ranks.
This proposal seemed small.
But it struck at the simplest human need—
To eat enough.To stay warm.To be treated as a person.
He nodded slowly.
"Since there are volunteers," he said, "we'll begin on a trial basis. The details—ingredients, quantities, rotation, work credits—we'll finalize later."
Wang Youcai and Matron Liu opened their mouths to object—
Then closed them again.
There was nothing to attack.
Every angle had been considered. Legal. Reasonable. Approved by Director Li. Supported by the workers.
To oppose now would make them look cruel—or worse, suspicious.
A faint, relieved smile appeared on Qing Tian's face.
"Thank you for your support, Director Li."
Then she drew a quiet breath.
And presented her boldest proposal yet.
"The third matter," she said softly—but her voice carried through the courtyard, "concerns the future of the Imperial Kitchen."
"By His Majesty's grace, I possess some knowledge of cooking."
"I also know that many here rise before dawn, work until night, doing the hardest labor—yet may never touch a stove in their entire lives."
The words cut gently—but deeply.
Fire tenders. Water carriers. Vegetable washers. Slop haulers.
Who among them had not once dreamed of learning real skills?
Standing at a stove. Cooking food others praised.
But reality was cruel. No connections. No status. No chance.
Qing Tian looked at the faces that had gone utterly still.
Eyes shining. Breaths held.
"If no one minds," she continued, "on the fifth and tenth of each month, when duties allow, I would like to share and exchange skills in the back courtyard."
"Nothing advanced. Just basics."
"How to hold a knife without straining your wrist. How to cut evenly. How to tell if ingredients are fresh. How to control simple heat."
"Completely voluntary."
"No names recorded. No evaluations."
"If you wish to come, come. If not, there is no obligation."
She emphasized each word—exchange, voluntary, no records—lowering her posture, as if this were merely colleagues sharing experience.
But the phrase—
Imperial Culinary Hall—
exploded silently in every heart.
Teaching kitchen skills… to the lowest servants?
Unheard of.
For generations, culinary techniques were lifelines—passed from master to disciple, father to son.
Even consorts who learned cooking did so to please the emperor—not to uplift servants.
Yet Qing Tian spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Director Li was stunned.
As he looked at the young woman before him, at the sincerity in her clear eyes, something finally clicked.
Now he understood.
Why the Emperor had bestowed the unprecedented title Shan Meiren.
Why he had granted such unconventional authority.
She wasn't seeking favor.She wasn't grasping power.
She was changing the foundation.
Wang Youcai and Matron Liu, on the other hand, were completely numb.
Oppose it?
On what grounds?
Support it?
That would undermine the very hierarchy they thrived on.
The first "council" of Shan Meiren in the Imperial Kitchen ended in an atmosphere thick with shock, unease, undercurrents—and a fragile, dangerous hope.
Qing Tian did not linger.
After arranging a later meeting to finalize details, she left with Spring Peach.
Behind her, the courtyard remained frozen—as if everyone sensed that something irreversible had just begun.