After the Emperor left, the small kitchen fell back into silence.Only the clay pot on the stove continued to release faint wisps of steam, the remaining soup gently breathing with warmth.
Qing Tian steadied herself and stepped forward, lowering the fire to its weakest setting so the soup would stay warm. Then she began to clean the stove and wash the bowls and spoons she had used. As her fingers brushed against the cool porcelain, the scenes from earlier replayed again and again in her mind.
You always seem to know… what I need at moments like this.
Those words lingered like a stone dropped into her heart, the ripples refusing to settle. The Emperor hadn't merely accepted her food—he had understood the quiet observation and care hidden behind it. That kind of understanding went far beyond simple imperial favor. It felt more like a shared language, spoken through food alone—silent, precise, and unmistakable.
And his words about the Imperial Kitchen mattered even more.
He hadn't just known what she was doing—he had acknowledged it. Subtly, but clearly. He warned her of danger, yet at the same time gave her permission—no, encouragement—to continue.
Since I gave you the authority, I allowed you to do certain things.
That single sentence was practically an invisible talisman—and a map.
Somewhere along the way, the nature of their relationship had quietly shifted.
At first, it had been one-sided: she cooked, he received.Then came occasional feedback.Then tonight—his personal visit, his frank admission of understanding, and his unmistakable support wrapped in caution.
This was no longer simply Emperor and concubine.Nor ruler and subordinate.
It was something stranger.
Something closer to a partnership born of shared needs and mutual recognition.
Or—using a word that felt dangerously irreverent, yet oddly accurate—
They were something like meal partners.
He was her most special—and most perilous—meal partner. A man who held life and death in his hands, whose thoughts were unfathomable. And she, relying on nothing but her understanding of food and people, was slowly becoming one of the very few in the palace who could truly reach his exhaustion, grasp his needs, and offer comfort in the simplest way possible.
That realization filled her with pressure.
But also—with a fragile, unfamiliar courage.
The Emperor needed her.
Not just for her cooking—but for the understanding she carried, and the faint sense of vitality she brought into his rigid, suffocating world.
That understanding was a vine growing along the edge of a cliff.Cling to it, and she might climb to a height that revealed a different view altogether.Slip even slightly, and she would fall into an abyss—shattered beyond recovery.
Qing Tian placed a hand over her chest, feeling her heartbeat still racing. From this moment on, she would have to walk even more carefully. Think more deeply. Plan more thoroughly.
Consort Liu's hostility.The probing eyes of the harem.Resistance within the Imperial Kitchen itself.
All of it would sharpen as her connection with the Emperor deepened.
And yet—
She also felt that she might be allowed… to be just a little bolder.
If the Emperor had tacitly permitted—even expected—her to do something, then the proposal she had been drafting about reforming the Imperial Kitchen might truly be worth refining and submitting. Clear responsibilities. Guaranteed basic meals. Ingredient traceability.
They were no longer idle thoughts.
She dried the last bowl and returned it neatly to its place. The small kitchen was once again spotless, every item in quiet order.
Outside, moonlight spilled cold and pale across the courtyard. Autumn insects chirped intermittently, their calls threading through the night.
Qing Tian blew out the oil lamp by the stove, leaving only a small night light glowing softly in the corner. She stepped out of the kitchen and gently closed the door behind her.
The night was still long.The road ahead, even longer.
But tonight, she no longer felt quite so alone.Nor so lost.
She had gained a secret, dangerous, yet potentially world-shifting meal partner.
And all she needed to do now—was continue honing her craft.To cook food that carried meaning, solved problems, and soothed unseen wounds.
And to place each step on this vast palace chessboard with care—steady, conscious, and unflinchingly awake.