That day, a written request arrived from Changchun Palace.
The list was delivered directly to Qing Tian. The moment she unfolded the gold-flecked paper, her heart sank. The demands written on it were so excessive they bordered on the absurd—clearly a calculated provocation, a deliberate test from Noble Consort Liu.
Qing Tian stared at the page in silence.
Rejecting it outright would be suicidal. Accepting it as-is would be walking straight into a trap.
After a brief pause, she made her decision.
She would go to Changchun Palace herself—to "seek clarification."
When Qing Tian finally emerged from Changchun Palace, her expression was composed, but a thin sheen of cold sweat clung to her back. The verbal sparring with Noble Consort Liu had drained her far more than preparing an elaborate banquet ever could. Each sentence had carried hidden barbs; each smile had masked intent. As she walked back toward Tingyu Pavilion, her steps felt oddly light, almost unsteady.
"Meiren Qing."
A low, even voice suddenly sounded beside her.
Qing Tian's soul nearly left her body. She spun around sharply, only to see Emperor Tang Yi himself approaching from a side path, accompanied by no one but Gao Dequan. He was dressed in casual robes, his features softened by the dusk—except for his eyes, which remained as deep and unreadable as ever.
"Y-Your Majesty!" Qing Tian dropped to her knees at once. "This concubine greets the Emperor! I did not know Your Majesty was here and have disturbed your presence—this concubine deserves death!"
"Rise." Tang Yi's tone was flat. His gaze lingered briefly on her pale face. "You're coming from Changchun Palace?"
"Yes." Qing Tian stood, head lowered, her heart pounding. How much had he seen? How much had he heard?
"Consort Liu's dietary request," Tang Yi said suddenly, "I've heard a little about it." His voice revealed nothing. "You handled it… adequately."
Qing Tian's heart jolted.
Adequately. Coming from the emperor, those two words carried considerable weight. More importantly, they meant he was not ignorant of what had just transpired.
"This concubine merely fulfilled her duty," she replied carefully. "It was done to avoid errors in the Imperial Kitchen and to honor Noble Consort Liu's intentions."
Tang Yi did not pursue the matter further. Instead, he changed the subject with casual abruptness.
"The lotus-leaf rice balls you sent last time—do you still have any?"
Qing Tian froze for a split second before reacting. "Yes, Your Majesty. This concubine has some warming in the small kitchen."
"Mm." Tang Yi nodded and turned toward Tingyu Pavilion. "I'm a bit hungry."
Qing Tian was stunned.
The emperor had asked for food. And not only that—he was heading straight for her residence?
Wasn't this… improper?
But clearly, His Majesty had no interest in her doubts.
They arrived at Tingyu Pavilion in silence. Spring Tao and Xia He nearly collapsed from fright at the emperor's sudden arrival, kneeling and trembling as they greeted him.
Tang Yi walked straight into the main hall and took the seat of honor. Qing Tian hurried to the small kitchen, retrieving the lotus-leaf rice balls that had been kept warm by the stove. She added two refreshing side dishes and a bowl of mung bean soup simmered to perfection, then personally carried the tray inside.
She set the dishes down and stood quietly to the side.
Tang Yi picked up his silver chopsticks and took a bite of the rice ball. The clean fragrance of lotus leaf blended seamlessly with the savory richness of glutinous rice and diced ham. The texture was just right—soft, yet pleasantly resilient. He followed it with a sip of mung bean soup: clear broth, velvety bean paste, lightly sweet and cooling.
He said nothing, eating in silence.
The room held only the faint sound of porcelain touching porcelain.
Qing Tian barely dared to breathe. Her thoughts churned wildly. Why had the emperor come so suddenly? Was he truly just hungry—or was this his response to Noble Consort Liu's provocation? She didn't dare guess.
Soon, the plate of rice balls and the bowl of soup were empty.
Tang Yi set down his chopsticks and accepted a cloth from Gao Dequan, wiping his hands at last. Only then did his gaze return to Qing Tian.
"The taste is good," he said calmly. "Lighter than the night snacks from the Imperial Kitchen."
"Your Majesty is too kind," Qing Tian replied softly.
"You've done well with the matters of the Imperial Kitchen," Tang Yi continued, his eyes deep and steady. "'Written requests.' 'Warm-Heart Soup.' And… the 'Imperial Chef Exchange.'"
With each term he spoke, Qing Tian's heart tightened.
He knew. He knew everything.
"And he approves?" The realization sent a surge of heat through her chest—excitement, fear, and a quiet, powerful encouragement tangled together.
"Your Majesty," she dropped to her knees again, "this concubine is dull-witted and only does what little she can. I dare not accept such praise."
"Get up." Tang Yi's voice was unreadable. "Do what you should. Some things cannot be rushed."
He stood, clearly preparing to leave.
At the doorway, he paused. Without turning back, he said only one sentence:
"As for Noble Consort Liu… you may judge the limits yourself. I will not intervene at every turn."
Then he was gone, just as abruptly as he had arrived.
Qing Tian knelt there for a long while before slowly standing. Her palms were slick with cold sweat, yet her heart roared like a tide struck by stone.
The emperor's sudden visit—and his few, measured words—carried immense meaning.
He acknowledged her efforts. He tacitly approved her changes. He even, subtly, gave her room to maneuver against Noble Consort Liu—"judge the limits yourself"—while warning her not to advance recklessly—"some things cannot be rushed."
It was encouragement and restraint intertwined.
And it tightened, once more, the invisible thread binding her to him.
Yet before she could fully absorb the shock of that night—
New trouble was already on its way.