Consort Li later relayed to His Majesty the past events that Pei Shangshi had recounted. At that time, Zhenzhen was at the emperor’s side, and the consort had not asked her to withdraw, so she too became privy to the story.

The emperor, recalling Pei Shangshi’s words that she would “willingly die to atone if anything should happen to Participant Shen,” sighed with emotion: “Though Shangshi’s words speak of atonement, I hear in them two parts of a promise to follow each other in life and death. That she has lived a solitary life because of Shen Han is certainly a trick of fate, but it also shows how deeply she loved back then. She has never been able to let go since, and though she harbors great resentment, her heart has always held Shen Lang. That’s why she has never asked the late emperor or me to leave the palace to marry. This romantic bond can no longer be renewed, but perhaps the grievances between them can be resolved. After all, they once loved each other, and now both have graying temples. It’s time for this knot in their hearts to be untied.”

Consort Li bowed and said: “Your Majesty speaks truly. I also feel that by now, they might both be inclined to let go of old grudges, but they simply cannot bring themselves to lose face. Someone must guide them from the side and lend a helping hand.”

The emperor pondered, then devised a plan with Consort Li, telling it to Zhenzhen for her to guide Pei Shangshi in carrying out.

The Son of Heaven had a tradition of bestowing ice from the palace ice storage to his ministers during summer to help them beat the heat. It was now the fourth month of summer, and the weather was growing increasingly hot. The emperor ordered that ice be granted to Shen Han, and had Pei Shangshi personally make a confection for Zhenzhen to bring along with the ice to the Shen residence.

Though Pei Shangshi was somewhat puzzled, she still accepted the command and went alone to the kitchen to make a sweet treat. Zhenzhen offered to help, but Pei Shangshi neither agreed nor asked her to leave, allowing her to observe the process.

A spoonful of solidified lard was placed in a heated small pot to melt. Pei Shangshi then sifted an appropriate amount of previously roasted flour into the pot, stirring unhurriedly until the oil and flour formed a mixture that was neither too thin nor too thick. Then she removed it from the heat, sprinkled white sugar and mixed it evenly, took out the dough, rolled it flat on a cutting board, used a knife to cut it into diamond-shaped elephant-eye pieces, and finally took powdered sugar from a glass jar to sprinkle evenly over the pieces.

Pei Shangshi’s seasoning jars were different from others – they were imperial gifts made of glass, crystal clear, allowing one to see their contents at a glance. Several glass jars were neatly arranged on the kitchen cabinet, sparkling with flowing light, looking pure and precious. Like Lin Hong, she had arranged various seasonings in strict order, so when she wanted something, she didn’t need to look up but could accurately take it out with one reach.

While Zhenzhen watched in silent admiration, Pei Shangshi had already finished making this sweet treat. After letting it cool a bit, she picked up a piece to taste, capturing the sensation of the snow-white crispy piece dissolving between her teeth. The crispness seemed to be as she expected, and as she chewed, a slight smile appeared at the corner of her lips, her gaze particularly gentle, reminding Zhenzhen of how her mother used to test food temperature for her, looking satisfied when it was just right.

Pei Shangshi suddenly remembered Zhenzhen’s presence and gestured to her: “You should try some too.”

Seeing that there didn’t seem to be many pieces cut, Zhenzhen thanked Pei Shangshi but waved her hand saying it wasn’t necessary. Pei Shangshi didn’t insist, and together with Zhenzhen, placed the finished crispy pieces into the food box bestowed by His Majesty.

According to palace custom, food bestowed upon ministers was usually accompanied by a few auspicious verses written on gold-flecked paper. Zhenzhen consulted Pei Shangshi about the content for this occasion, saying His Majesty hoped Pei Shangshi would choose the verses. But Pei Shangshi fell silent, and after a moment said: “Help me think of something.”

Zhenzhen smiled: “I only remember a few poems in total…” Even so, she prepared to think, and asked Pei Shangshi to tell her the name of this sweet treat.

Pei Shangshi answered: “Snow Flower Crisps.”

“Snow Flower Crisps…” Zhenzhen pondered that she should think of two lines related to snow flowers. Of all the poems she remembered, most were by Su Shi – first she had memorized those related to food, then incidentally learned quite a few with other content. Now, thinking of Snow Flower Crisps, she indeed recalled two lines and immediately blurted out: “Last year when seeing you off, outside Yuhang Gate, flying snow like willow catkins. This year as spring ends, willow catkins like snow, yet still no sight of homecoming.”

Upon hearing this, Pei Shangshi frowned at her – not in anger, but looking rather surprised.

Zhenzhen suddenly remembered the matter of Shangshi seeing off Shen Han to the spring examinations years ago, and immediately realized this verse was all too fitting, likely to wound Pei Shangshi’s heart. She lowered her head and said awkwardly: “No good, no good, these two lines don’t sound very auspicious. Please let Shangshi decide for herself.”

Pei Shangshi turned her head expressionlessly toward the door: “Go ask His Majesty’s opinion.”

But His Majesty thought the verse was excellent, smiling and praising Zhenzhen’s cleverness. He personally wrote these two lines on the poetry paper and had Zhenzhen attach them to the Snow Flower Crisps food box to send to Shen Han.

When the Snow Flower Crisps were delivered to the Shen residence along with the ice blocks, Shen Han dragged his ailing body out to receive them, kneeling in gratitude, still maintaining his proper bearing and solemn, serious demeanor. Zhenzhen took out the box of Snow Flower Crisps and presented it to Shen Han along with the gold-flecked poetry paper, instructing: “These Snow Flower Crisps were made by His Majesty’s order by Pei Shangshi. Pei Shangshi crafted them with great care, completing every step personally. The taste is extraordinary, and His Majesty specially wrote a verse for this. I hope Participant Shen will savor them carefully.”

Shen Han bowed in gratitude again before receiving the Snow Flower Crisps. When he unfolded the poetry paper, as Zhenzhen had expected, his previously impeccable composed demeanor instantly showed cracks. The hand holding the paper trembled slightly, and the waves stirring in his eyes began to surge uncontrollably under Zhenzhen’s watchful gaze.

Two days later, Zhenzhen again came to the Waiting for Dawn Court on the emperor’s orders to hear the ministers’ opinions about breakfast. Unexpectedly, the first to enter the hall was still Shen Han, and he had arrived much earlier than last time. At this moment, he was the only minister in or around the Waiting for Dawn Court.

Zhenzhen approached and bowed to him, asking: “Participant seems to have just recovered. Why not rest a few more days before attending court?”

Shen Han didn’t answer, but he wasn’t as arrogant as usual. He bowed back to her and stood silently opposite her for a moment, as if deliberating for a long time, before taking out a small food box and silently handing it to Zhenzhen.

Zhenzhen took it and opened it to find a piece of Snow Flower Crisp, so she asked Shen Han in surprise: “This is Pei Shangshi’s Snow Flower Crisp? What instruction does Participant Shen have?”

Shen Han nodded and said gently: “Please taste it first, Manager Wu, and we’ll talk afterward.”

When those snow-like crispy crumbs fell on Zhenzhen’s tongue, allowing her to taste the flavor within, she instantly understood why Shen Han was in such a state.

The Snow Flower Crisp was actually salty – extraordinarily salty, making one want to spit it out immediately upon tasting. Apart from the layer of powdered sugar on the surface, there wasn’t a trace of white sugar’s sweetness inside.

She took a handkerchief and wrapped the Snow Flower Crisp from her mouth, feeling somewhat confused and uneasy, and bowed to Shen Han again: “Participant…”

Shen Han gestured for her to rise and asked her to sit across from him, then inquired: “Was this Snow Flower Crisp made entirely by Pei Shangshi from beginning to end?”

Zhenzhen confirmed it was, saying: “I watched Shangshi make it with my own eyes.”

Shen Han sighed: “Though she has always disliked me, based on my understanding of her, if she had any dissatisfaction, she would speak it out directly and honestly. She wouldn’t deliberately use food to make things difficult for me.”

“Shangshi certainly wouldn’t have done it deliberately.” Zhenzhen recalled Pei Shangshi’s gentle gaze when tasting the Snow Flower Crisps and immediately made this assertion. Thinking back to the preparation process, Zhenzhen strongly suspected she had mistakenly used a type of sea salt with grains similar in size to white sugar, so she said to Shen Han: “The glass jars holding seasonings in Shangshi’s kitchen are all identical. Among them is a jar of sea salt whose color and grains look very similar to white sugar. Even if there were some differences, Shangshi was working by candlelight at night, so she probably didn’t notice. This was an unintentional mistake. I hope Participant Shen will understand and not tell His Majesty.”

“Did she taste it herself after making it?” Shen Han didn’t seem intent on blame, but was step by step seeking the truth.

Zhenzhen was stunned. Of course Pei Shangshi had tasted it, and had even calmly smiled in affirmation, showing she hadn’t noticed any abnormality in the taste. But the saltiness in this Snow Flower Crisp came from coarse sea salt with an extremely strong flavor. Using this salt in the quantity meant for white sugar, any ordinary person would immediately taste this unbearably salty flavor, let alone Shangshi whose sense of taste should be more sensitive.

“Sigh, knowing her habits, she couldn’t possibly not test the saltiness first when making food for others.” Without waiting for Zhenzhen’s answer, Shen Han said it himself, “So, her sense of taste…”

She had lost her sense of taste. This was almost the only answer. The young eunuch who had been helping her clean the kitchen had recently been replaced by a new person, who probably hadn’t paid attention to the original positions of the glass jars when taking them down to wipe the cabinet, and had mistakenly switched the salt jar with the white sugar jar when cleaning, not returning them to their proper places, causing this incident.

Many previously unexamined details suddenly became clear: why Pei Shangshi only watched the process when instructing palace ladies in cooking, not tasting personally; why His Majesty had favored Liu Jieyu’s cooking in recent years; why His Majesty had chosen a young palace lady to assist Pei Shangshi in the pre-tasting of imperial meals; why Pei Shangshi said she was getting old and couldn’t eat many foods, leaving all the imperial meal tasting to Zhenzhen…

Zhenzhen felt immensely bitter inside. As someone who made her living creating and tasting delicious food, she had lost her sense of taste, carefully guarding this secret. When her tongue stopped working, she relied on her eyes and years of accumulated experience, judging the taste of dishes through wholehearted observation of the cooking process…

“Don’t discuss this matter with His Majesty, and don’t tell anyone.” Shen Han, noticing the tears in her eyes, began to request in a heart-to-heart tone that Zhenzhen keep Pei Shangshi’s secret, “Pei Shangshi never married and now has no parents or children. Apart from this palace position, she has nothing. If people discover her sense of taste is no longer sharp, at best they’ll force her to resign, at worst they’ll expel her from the palace. And once out of the palace, she has no home to return to… Manager Wu was personally promoted by Pei Shangshi, so you must understand her difficulties. Please bear with her in the future, and if anyone asks her to taste imperial meals, I hope you’ll intervene and help resolve the situation.”

Having said this, he stood up, faced Zhenzhen, and bowed with particular solemnity.

Zhenzhen hurriedly rose to return the bow, suddenly realizing that this request was the reason Shen Han had dragged his ailing body to the Waiting for Dawn Court. No matter how much he had disliked Zhenzhen in the past, to ask her to cover for Pei Shangshi, he was willing to put aside his pride and make this request.

“Please be assured, Participant. I will certainly keep this secret and not mention it to anyone.” Zhenzhen also made a solemn promise.

Shen Han’s eyes lit up with joy, and he thanked her repeatedly.

His particularly caring attitude toward Pei Shangshi made Zhenzhen somewhat puzzled: Participant Shen seemed to be a person who valued emotion and loyalty, not like the heartless man in Pei Shangshi’s memory. After thinking it over several times, she finally couldn’t help but ask him: “Since Participant Shen cares so much about Pei Shangshi, why did you abandon her back then and marry another?”

Shen Han was startled and asked back: “She told you about our past?”

Zhenzhen said: “I heard it from Consort Li’s account… just a few words, so I may not have heard it very clearly.”

Shen Han was speechless, and after a moment, smiled sadly: “When did I ever abandon her? She was the one who chose the late emperor first, and only then did I marry my current wife.”

Though he had faced Pei Shangshi’s cold treatment for many years, he still deeply remembered her lively and charming girlish appearance, especially her gentle frowns and light smiles the day she saw him off to return home for the prefectural examination.

At that time, autumn was deepening, and the lush forests on the mountains on both shores were dyed from azure to yellow to red, creating brocade-like colors in varying shades. He and she shared a small boat, one at the front and one at the back, as she held a long pole and personally punted the boat to see him off for a stretch. Though she was reluctant to part, she still suppressed her sorrow, wielding the long pole while trying to find cheerful topics, occasionally letting her clear, musical laughter ripple into the azure water and clear waves of the river.

Pitying her hard work at punting, he wanted to stand up and switch places with her so she could rest, but as soon as he stood and took a step, the boat lost balance and began rocking violently. His arms spread wide, involuntarily swaying up and down with the boat’s motion, his face pale with fright.

She showed no fear, using the long pole to tap his chest and make him sit back at the bow, laughing: “Just sit there obediently and don’t cause me trouble.”

He smiled sheepishly: “I’m just sitting here doing nothing while letting you, a young lady, punt the boat. I feel very sorry about it.”

She then said: “Then sing me a song.”

He agreed, looking at the mountain ranges on both shores, and sang loudly: “Wu mountains azure, Yue mountains azure, azure mountains on both shores face each other in welcome, how can we bear the sorrow of parting?”

After singing the first stanza, remembering the second stanza had a line “the love-binding sash knot remains untied, the river tide has already calmed,” feeling it was inauspicious, he stopped singing.

She then asked in puzzlement: “Why don’t you finish it?”

“I forgot the second stanza.” He smiled, gazing at her radiant smile glowing amidst the azure water and green mountains. At this moment, he felt he could cast aside all fame and fortune, wishing only that time would stop here, allowing him and her to drift on rivers and lakes like this, gazing at each other without growing tired for the rest of their lives.

“Then sing me another one,” she continued to request.

“What would you like to hear?”

“Sing one related to my name.”

Related to her name? There were some, but… He hesitated, and only began to sing under her urging: “Gazing sadly at fleeting life’s swift passage, mournful the remaining sound of the precious zither. The Chu traveler, sentimental, especially resents parting, climbing to view azure mountains and distant waters. Eyes following the endless withered grass, in the deep night, how many places hear the scattered fulling blocks…”

He still didn’t finish, because this second stanza was even more inauspicious, everywhere containing implications of parting. At that time, he was determined to marry Baose, feeling her character and virtue were beyond reproach, and they loved each other mutually – she was the ideal partner fitting all his expectations. He was determined to achieve success and return to marry her in glory, so he refused to think about anything related to separation.

Helplessly, looking back now, the “Eternal Longing” and “River Full of Flowers” he sang that day on the azure water had become prophecies of their lifelong fate.