A deathly silence lingered in the grand hall.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Emperor Tang Yi's thunderous words still seemed to echo between the towering pillars, vibrating faintly through the gilded air.
Standing at the foot of the imperial steps, Tang Yi's posture was straight as a pine. His gaze swept across the officials who now stood frozen, pale and breathless. The anger on his face slowly receded, replaced once more by that unfathomable calm—cold, steady, and absolute.
But everyone present understood one thing clearly.
The decision had already been made.And it would not be changed.
Tang Yi turned and ascended the steps once more, returning to the dragon throne. The strings of jade beads on his crown swayed gently, half-veiling his expression.
"As for the charge of 'misleading the imperial judgment,'" he said lightly, his tone returning to its earlier composure, tinged with unmistakable sarcasm,"whether I am so muddle-headed as to be deceived by a single bowl of noodles or a cup of soup—this is something I understand better than any of you."
The implication struck like a slap.
He was not merely defending Consort Qing—he was warning them not to question his clarity of mind.
"As for the case of Imperial Chef Zhang," the emperor continued, his voice suddenly sharp and resolute,"I have already ordered a full reinvestigation. Witnesses and evidence are complete. It was a deliberate frame-up."
His eyes hardened.
"On this matter, I have my judgment. I know the truth well. No one is permitted to exploit this case to stir trouble, confuse right and wrong, or launch further attacks."
The final words were unmistakably a warning.
His gaze drifted—just briefly—toward Liu Chenghan.
Liu felt a chill surge from his feet to the crown of his head.
This was no simple rebuke.The emperor was overturning the entire case—and, in doing so, striking directly at the Liu family.
Tang Yi no longer looked at the officials. He turned slightly and gave a subtle nod to Gao Dequan, who had been standing rigidly at his side, emotions surging in his chest.
Gao Dequan stepped forward at once, unrolled the imperial decree he had long prepared, and proclaimed in a piercing, resounding voice:
"By the Mandate of Heaven, the Emperor decrees:
The nourishment of the palace concerns the harmony of the inner court.
Consort Qing of the rank Meiren, born Qing, is keen of mind and kind of heart, diligent and conscientious. Since entering the palace, she has upheld her duties with care. In assisting with the affairs of the Imperial Kitchen, she has shown compassion toward palace servants, brought harmony to the inner palace, and achieved tangible results.
Her intentions are worthy. Her resolve is commendable. Her accomplishments are evident.
Therefore, she is hereby promoted to the rank of Pin, granted the title Chen, and shall relocate to the side hall of Yuqing Palace.
Matters of the Imperial Kitchen shall continue to be assisted by her hand. She may, according to circumstances, deliberate prudently and implement gradual improvements for the benefit of the palace.
So decreed."
The decree echoed through the hall.
And then—silence.
A silence deeper and heavier than before.
Consort Chen.
From a sixth-rank Meiren, she had leapt two full ranks to become a fifth-rank Pin.
And more than that—the title Chen.
"Chen" referred to the imperial residence, the North Star, the axis of Heaven itself. It was a title of rare honor, bordering on audacity, one seldom granted even among favored consorts.
This was not merely promotion.
It was unmistakable favor.Public, absolute, and overwhelming.
More importantly, the decree openly affirmed her actions as "compassionate to servants, harmonizing the inner court, and effective in outcome." It not only cleared her of all accusations but legitimized every so-called "overstep" she had made—and granted her explicit authority to continue.
This was not compromise.Not appeasement.
It was a declaration.
A thunderous endorsement delivered from the Golden Hall itself.
Liu Chenghan felt as though lightning had struck his skull. The blood drained from his face, his body swaying violently—had a fellow official not discreetly steadied him, he would have collapsed on the spot.
All his painstaking planning, all the memorials and alliances, all the righteous fury—
Not only had he failed to bring Qing Sweet down…
He had become the stepping stone for her ascent.
The emperor had struck back—hard—and made his stance known to the entire court and inner palace alike.
The decree spread through the palace like wildfire.
When Qing Sweet received the imperial edict in Listening Rain Pavilion, she stood frozen, as though trapped in a dream. She had hoped—perhaps—that the emperor might shield her.
She had never imagined he would do so this forcefully.
"Consort Chen…"
Her fingers trembled as she touched the warm silk of the decree, the ink still bold and unmistakable. These two words did not merely signify status—they were the emperor's full acknowledgment of her path, her efforts, and her worth.
Tears slid down her cheeks in silence.
This time, they were not born of fear or grievance.
They were tears of shock, gratitude, and an overwhelming surge of resolve.
When the news reached the Imperial Kitchen, many of the servants who had once knelt in the freezing wind along the palace road said nothing at all.
They only turned away—eyes reddened—and wiped their faces.
They understood now.
Their silent kneeling had not vanished into nothingness.Their gratitude had been seen.Their voices—heard.
Director Li knelt toward the direction of Yangxin Hall, tears streaming down his aged face.Chef Zhang, upon hearing the news, sat in silence for a long time before releasing a heavy sigh—one filled with pride, relief, and deep, lingering concern.
In Changchun Palace, destruction reigned.
Consort Liu locked herself inside, forbidding anyone from entering. Only the sound of suppressed sobs—like a wounded beast—and shattering porcelain leaked through the doors.
She had lost.
Completely.
Not only had she failed to remove Qing Sweet, she had propelled her higher—into the full light of imperial favor.
And with her brother's public defeat and the emperor's warning, the Liu family now stood in an awkward, dangerous position.
The greatest crisis had passed.
But Qing Sweet knew better than to relax.
This was merely the calm between storms.
Consort Liu would not forget this humiliation. She would only bury her hatred deeper, waiting for a deadlier strike.
And Qing Sweet herself—now standing higher than ever—was under more scrutiny than before. Every step ahead would be watched. Every mistake magnified.
Especially with one trial looming large on the horizon—
The grand Winter Solstice Sacrificial Ceremony.
A ritual of Heaven and ancestors.A display of imperial authority.A crucible for the palace's coordination and order.
And the Imperial Kitchen—her battlefield—would bear enormous responsibility.
New title.New dangers.New war.
Qing Sweet stood in the courtyard of Listening Rain Pavilion, gazing up at the vast, cold winter sky above the palace roofs.
She clenched the imperial decree in her hand.
The storm had paused.
But the road ahead remained long and unforgiving.
Only now—
She was no longer the powerless kitchen maid swept along by fate.
She was Consort Chen Qing Sweet.