Despite Zhenzhen’s polite refusal, Zhao Ai still insisted on escorting her back to Laifeng Pavilion’s small kitchen. The Extended Osmanthus Banquet had not yet dispersed at this time, and the people from the pavilion seemed not to have returned yet. The chaff ash pile in the ground stove remained as before, apparently untouched by anyone.
Zhenzhen simply asked Zhao Ai to wait a moment while she retrieved the taro from the ash pile to share with him.
Zhao Ai was quite interested in these wine-soaked, paper-wrapped taro roots. Before Zhenzhen could unwrap the paper, he reached out to touch them and was immediately burned, quickly withdrawing his hand.
A noble lady then entered from outside, hurried to Zhao Ai’s side, and asked with concern: “Are you burned?”
Upon seeing her, Zhao Ai immediately smiled and replied: “Sister, it’s nothing serious.”
Looking closely, Zhenzhen discovered the newcomer was actually Consort Li, and quickly rose to bow. Consort Li examined Zhao Ai’s hand, confirmed it was unharmed, then turned to gently tell Zhenzhen “no need for ceremony.”
Consort Li glanced at the taro by the ground stove, then surveyed the surroundings, quickly locating the kitchen towels, walked over to select a clean one, found a pair of silver chopsticks, then covered the lower half of a taro with the towel, held it down with her left hand, and used her right hand to hold the chopsticks, picking apart the paper wrapping the taro and extracting the clean taro, which she handed to Zhenzhen to peel.
This series of actions was performed as smoothly and quickly as flowing clouds and water. Zhenzhen watched in amazement, completely forgetting that according to protocol she should have stepped forward to offer to do it herself, until Consort Li spoke, ordering her to peel the taro, that she awakened as if from a dream.
“Where did you two go earlier?” Consort Li turned to ask Zhao Ai, her tone quite gentle, apparently without reproach, and her gaze toward Zhao Ai could be described as loving, showing considerable affection.
“I happened to pass by here and saw that on this auspicious festival day, she was alone here roasting taro, which seemed pitiful, so I took her to Moon Rock to appreciate the moon,” Zhao Ai explained.
Consort Li nodded, looked at Zhenzhen thoughtfully, then said to Zhao Ai: “The banquet has not yet dispersed, but I felt somewhat tired and asked His Majesty’s permission to retire early. Passing by the kitchen, I saw you two entering together, so I came to have a look… Second Brother, though you are still young and not yet at the age to establish your own residence, living in the palace, you should still have some discretion. Today’s events, if seen by those with ulterior motives, might give rise to gossip about you having private meetings with palace servants at night, which would not be good if it reached His Majesty’s ears.”
Zhao Ai lowered his brows to show he humbly accepted the instruction and would not act so willfully again in the future. Consort Li then showed a smile again: “Though you are more lively than your elder brother, I know you are actually very sensible. Many things I need not say much about—you will keep them in your heart.”
Zhao Ai nodded: “All these years, I have relied entirely on Sister’s care and guidance. Ai keeps this gratefully in mind.”
Consort Li smiled reassuringly and continued: “I have already instructed several palace attendants to guard outside the pavilion gate, not allowing outsiders to approach and observe. You may eat this taro with peace of mind. From the aroma, it must have been roasted wrapped in wine lees—very fragrant. I imagine you haven’t eaten this kind before. After you finish eating, I’ll have someone escort you back.”
By this time, Zhenzhen had finished peeling one taro, cut it into several pieces, arranged them on a plate, and presented it to them. Zhao Ai asked the Consort to taste first. She declined twice, but seeing that if she didn’t eat, Zhao Ai wouldn’t touch his chopsticks either, she picked up a piece to taste. Upon tasting, joy appeared between her brows as she said: “It is indeed sweeter and more fragrant than usual.”
Zhao Ai then tasted a piece and also praised it endlessly.
Seeing their reactions, Zhenzhen was naturally delighted and peeled all the remaining taro to serve them. However, Consort Li pulled her to sit beside her, saying: “You’ve also worked hard all day, poor thing, not tasting any of the banquet delicacies. Now you can only make do with eating this taro with us. Later I’ll speak to Hu Dishan—in the future, during festival banquets, we can’t let you stay alone in the kitchen looking for your own food.”
She had Zhenzhen continue eating taro with Zhao Ai while she herself stopped eating, only smiling as she watched them. Hearing her caring words, Zhenzhen felt very grateful toward her, so she went to her room again to fetch dried sweet plum blossoms for the Consort to drink.
Consort Li was quite pleased to see the honey-preserved wintersweet gradually blooming under the hot water infusion. The floral fragrance that the blooming tea released also suited her taste perfectly. After drinking, she praised it highly, saying: “Drinking this flower tea is like being in a plum grove—it lifts one’s spirits.”
After Zhao Ai finished eating the taro, Consort Li ordered the palace attendants outside to escort Zhao Ai back, while she remained in the kitchen. She had Zhenzhen extinguish the chaff fire to prevent night fires, then found Hu Dishan’s silver arm bands, used them to tie up her wide sleeves, and actually began collecting the tableware and tea utensils they had just used, intending to wash them herself.
Zhenzhen was startled and immediately stepped forward to ask her to stop, saying this was her job to do. Consort Li shook her head: “If I help you, we can finish faster, so you can rest earlier. Besides, I just ate and need to do some work to aid digestion.”
Despite Zhenzhen’s protests, she insisted on washing all the tableware and tea utensils herself, with skilled movements and extremely clean results. When Zhenzhen took them to put away, looking at the clear shine of the utensils, she couldn’t help but admire silently.
Seeing her expression, Consort Li smiled while untying her arm bands: “You didn’t expect I could do these things, did you?”
Zhenzhen didn’t know how to give polite compliments, so she honestly shared her feelings: “Your Ladyship is as capable as my mother.”
Consort Li’s smile immediately deepened: “Thank you for comparing me to your mother.”
As the Consort was about to leave the kitchen to return to her bedchamber, she looked back at Zhenzhen and told her: “I too was once a serving maid.”
Later, without Zhenzhen deliberately inquiring, Royal Kitchen servants told her during casual conversation that Consort Li had originally been the Empress Dowager’s serving maid. When the current emperor was still a prince, the Empress Dowager had bestowed her upon him. Initially, the current emperor was deeply in love with his first wife, and didn’t pay much attention to Li, but when his wife was gravely ill, Li unexpectedly gained great favor. After the current emperor ascended the throne, he posthumously honored his first wife as Empress Anshu, and Li was promoted several times to become Noble Consort. Due to his birth mother, the Crown Prince disliked Consort Li and, aside from necessary ceremonial interactions, never associated with her in daily life. However, Second Prince Zhao Ai was raised by Consort Li after his birth mother’s death. Consort Li had no children of her own, so she regarded Zhao Ai as her own and loved him dearly. Zhao Ai also served her as a mother, using the term princes and princesses use for their concubine birth mothers, calling her “Sister.” Whenever he was in the palace, he never forgot to pay his daily morning and evening respects.
Zhenzhen thus understood why, that Mid-Autumn night, when Consort Li discovered her association with Zhao Ai, she had tried so hard to cover for them, and by extension, was so kind to her as well.
Perhaps Consort Li had given some instructions, as Hu Dishan treated Zhenzhen with much more importance than before, beginning to let her cook some dishes for the Consort.
One day, Zhao Ai went to Yujin Garden in the southern suburbs for archery practice and shot down several turtledoves while there, sending them to Consort Li’s kitchen upon his return to the palace. Hu Dishan cleaned the turtledoves and prepared to add some nourishing medicinal ingredients to make soup.
Consort Li had been gradually gaining weight these past two years, but her body was quite weak. Even after examination, the imperial physicians couldn’t determine if she was ill, only suggesting dietary therapy for nourishment. So Hu Dishan often used medicinal ingredients with meat and poultry to make nourishing medicinal meals. However, Consort Li ate less and less, appearing increasingly listless and often lying about looking sickly.
Having observed many of Hu Dishan’s medicinal meals, Zhenzhen privately thought that if she had to eat these every day, she would probably find them tiresome too. So she tentatively suggested to Hu Dishan: “If the turtledoves are used for soup, the bony parts would suffice. The breast meat of the turtledoves is tender and boneless—why not cut it off to make a separate dish?”
Hu Dishan turned to her: “How would you prepare it?”
“Perhaps it could be stir-fried,” Zhenzhen thought of the wok she had brought into the palace.
With some curiosity about that stir-fry wok, Hu Dishan agreed to let her try.
Zhenzhen quickly retrieved and washed her wok, cut the breast meat from several turtledoves into strips, first marinating them with oil, salt, sauce, yellow wine, ginger, and scallions, then heated oil in the wok and briefly stir-fried the turtledove meat strips before adding some celery sprouts and continuing to stir-fry.
During this process, Zhenzhen held the wok handle, her movements alternating high and low, controlling the rhythm of flames licking the bottom of the wok, occasionally tossing the wok to make the meat strips and celery sprouts rise and fall within it, strand by strand leaping up and falling down. The oil fused the meat’s fragrance with the celery’s fresh aroma, filling the room with delicious smells. Not only did Hu Dishan and others in the kitchen stop their own work to watch, but even several eunuchs from outside were attracted in, repeatedly asking what was being made and why it smelled so good.
This dish had excellent color, aroma, and taste. Indeed, Consort Li showed interest in tasting it upon sight and ended up eating most of the plate, along with more staple food than usual.
“What is this dish called? Who taught you to make it?” Consort Li specifically summoned Zhenzhen to inquire.
Zhenzhen replied: “It’s called Celery Sprouts Minced Meat. My teacher before entering the palace once mentioned it to me, saying that Dongpo Jushi recorded: ‘Shu people prize celery sprouts minced meat, mixing it with dove meat.’ But my teacher preferred vegetarian food and rarely used poultry for cooking, so I had never practiced it. Today, by fortunate coincidence, Second Prince sent turtledoves, so I thought to try stir-frying them this way.”
Consort Li smiled and said: “You’re very clever, able to create such a delicious dish based on just one recorded line. This puts me in a difficult position—should I have you cook more dishes for me in the future, or fewer… If fewer, I’ll miss out on delicious food; if more, I’m afraid my appetite will increase and I’ll continue to gain weight.”
“Actually, there’s no need for such concerns,” Zhenzhen immediately remembered what Lin Hong had once told her. “My teacher said: People who eat when hungry won’t get fat. Weight gain occurs from eating too much food when the spleen and stomach don’t need it—for example, eating for social obligations, eating to vent emotions, eating to avoid waste, eating to pass time. If Your Ladyship eats normally and on schedule, you won’t gain weight. If Your Ladyship feels somewhat plump, could it be because you previously forced yourself to eat too much food your spleen and stomach didn’t need for nutritional supplementation?”
Consort Li appeared quite surprised, pondered for a moment, then smiled again: “That sounds very reasonable. Your teacher must be a learned master… How long did you study with him?”
Zhenzhen answered: “From last winter to this spring.”
“So short?” Consort Li said in amazement. “It feels like your culinary skills are already quite impressive.”
“Because my teacher was the best teacher I’ve ever encountered,” Zhenzhen thought of Lin Hong, her eyes immediately lighting up and her lips unconsciously curving into a smile. “Initially, studying with him felt very difficult because I loved sleeping in, but he rose very early, so I had to arrive at the kitchen before he got up. He also didn’t like to speak proactively, telling me what to do or how to do it, so I could only concentrate intently on observing his every movement, striving to remember every word he said. But this also made me calm down and seriously contemplate the reasons and intentions behind each of his steps, analyze his techniques, and the feelings he wanted to convey to diners, actually gaining considerable understanding. After we became familiar, he gradually shared many very reasonable insights with me. These words seemed to be about food and culinary arts, but weren’t limited to that—they could also be applied to life, often giving me enlightening revelations. So later, I no longer felt that early rising was painful. Before sleeping each night, I would happily wonder what exquisite culinary skills I would learn under his guidance after dawn, what delicious dishes I would make, and how he would casually say profound, Zen-like words… This made me look forward to tomorrow every night.”