“Could the Young Master still see Liu Sishan often after she entered the palace? The Young Master seems quite familiar with her.” Recalling the attachment Yinqi had shown her that night when he mistook her identity, Zhenzhen asked Lady Luo this question.

Lady Luo said: “When she entered the palace, the Young Master was only two years old, so logically his memory wouldn’t be deep. However, as a noble relative, the Young Master often entered the palace to play with the princes, so he could frequently encounter Liu Sishan. Liu Sishan was very fond of the Young Master and would always give him various pastries she made. Sometimes the Young Master would follow her to the kitchen to watch her work, especially loving to smell the fragrance of pastries that clung to her clothes.”

Zhenzhen instantly understood why Yinqi had suddenly pulled at her sleeves to smell them that night – this was probably also a way for him to confirm Liu Sishan’s identity in his confusion.

Lady Luo laughed and sighed: “The Young Master has been quiet since childhood, but Liu Sishan had a lively personality and was especially good at amusing children. When they were together, they would often chat and laugh. The lady often lamented that the Young Master was closer to Liu Sishan than to her.”

“Liu Sishan sounds like someone with excellent relations with people,” Zhenzhen said. “Loyal in serving her master, friendly to others, and very fond of children – everyone in the palace must have liked her… But where did she go later? Why do so few people in the palace talk about her now?”

“This… well, she later eloped with someone and escaped from the palace,” Lady Luo answered hesitantly and briefly.

Zhenzhen was greatly surprised: “The late emperor valued her so highly, yet she still eloped? The man she fell in love with must have been extraordinary!”

“Let’s not talk about it anymore. Such messy affairs aren’t good for you young ladies to hear,” Lady Luo said, then stood up. “The Young Master should take his afternoon nap. I’ll go check on him.”

After walking a few steps, Lady Luo turned back to look at Zhenzhen and said with some hesitation and emphasis: “By the way, there’s something I must remind you about: don’t mention the word ‘wontons’ in front of the Young Master, and never make them. This is a major taboo in the prince’s residence.”

Zhenzhen had actually realized this since Yinqi’s episode, but no one had explained the reason to her. Even now, Lady Luo showed no intention of explaining, hurrying off to Yinqi’s quarters after speaking, giving her no chance to ask questions.

When Zhenzhen served Yinqi his meals, she never expected that in distinguishing subtle flavors in food, he could actually be her teacher.

One evening at dinner, among the dishes from the kitchen was roasted mutton. After Zhenzhen tasted it, she took a small portion and presented it to Yinqi on a silver plate. Remembering how Yinqi had ordered the Wu salt to be changed when eating oranges, she served a bit of Wu salt at his table for seasoning.

Seeing this, Yinqi gently instructed her to remove the Wu salt and use Xixia azure salt instead.

Zhenzhen was somewhat puzzled and explained: “I thought you preferred Wu salt.”

Yinqi said: “Wu salt is white and mild, suitable for pairing with fruit. Xixia azure salt is mellow and sweet, better for bringing out meat flavors.”

Zhenzhen observed carefully, noting that Wu salt was fine and white with extremely small granules, while azure salt had larger crystals with a bluish tint. Curiously, she sprinkled some on the mutton and put it in her mouth. The azure salt didn’t dissolve immediately – when her teeth touched it, she could clearly feel the brittleness of the crystals. When the salt grains cracked between tongue and teeth, the spreading saltiness instantly merged with the meat’s aroma that had been faintly hidden beneath the fat. Rich and almost enchanting flavors began dancing on her tongue, tempting her to eagerly attempt the next taste.

Since childhood, her family had commonly used Wu salt. Though Qiuniang also used salt from Jiechi, Sichuan-Shaanxi, and other regions, Zhenzhen had hardly paid attention to the different uses of salts from various places, nor realized the subtle differences in taste that might exist.

In the evening, Yinqi had a maidservant bring out a set of glass bottles containing salt crystals of different colors and textures.

“Salt can be classified by source into sea salt, pool salt, well salt, cliff salt, or rock salt; by shape into pearl, glass, coral, crystal, snowflake, stalactite, pagoda forms; by color into red, purple, azure, black, and white varieties; by origin, there are even more…” Yinqi smiled and suggested to Zhenzhen, “Why don’t we play a game: we’ll both cover our eyes, then taste salt chosen by the maidservant and see who can correctly identify the type.”

Zhenzhen quickly waved her hands: “I’ve never distinguished them carefully – I wouldn’t dare compete with you.”

Yinqi didn’t insist, good-naturedly saying: “Then you cover my eyes and see if I can identify them correctly.”

Zhenzhen did as instructed, using a silk scarf to blindfold Yinqi, then took a small amount of red, lustrous salt granules from a glass bottle with a silver spoon and offered them to Yinqi to taste.

Yinqi quickly reached a conclusion: “Not very salty, relatively coarse granules, with a faint metallic taste upon careful sampling – this is pool salt from Xi’an Prefecture.” After a pause, he added, “It’s red, isn’t it?”

Zhenzhen confirmed this, then took some pure white, crystalline salt in pagoda-shaped crystals for him to taste again. After a moment, Yinqi commented: “This is sea salt, with a clear, gentle taste and a hint of floral fragrance – this is a type of salt from the Byzantine Empire brought by Arab merchants.”

The maidservant who had brought out the salt bottles was already showing an admiring smile.

Zhenzhen tasted some herself and, while noticing slight differences in saltiness, couldn’t detect any metallic taste or floral fragrance. She deeply admired Yinqi’s acute sense of taste. Yinqi removed the blindfold and smiled: “I rarely go out and am idle every day, so I have time to repeatedly do these rather boring things… If you taste more in the future, you’ll also be able to distinguish the differences.”

Then he suggested Zhenzhen put on the blindfold: “When your eyes can’t see, your tongue becomes more sensitive and can more easily detect minute differences in food.”

Zhenzhen tried it and indeed found that tasting the salt again, she could discern richer flavors.

“This method is wonderful,” Zhenzhen laughed. “How did you think of it, Young Master?”

Yinqi’s smile gradually faded. After a moment, he lowered his eyes dejectedly: “Auntie Liu taught me.”

He seemed unwilling to talk more about Auntie Liu and didn’t continue the conversation with Zhenzhen. However, he would often play this blindfolded tasting game with Zhenzhen afterward. Besides salt, they would distinguish various sauces, pickled meats, sugars, and teas. Whoever guessed wrong would receive small punishments from the winner, and they often played with great enjoyment.

One day, Lady Chen Guo came to see Yinqi. As soon as she entered the courtyard, she heard continuous laughter from Yinqi’s room. Without waiting for the maidservants to announce her, she hurried inside, just in time to see Yinqi turning his head with a bright smile. On his moon-bright face were two mustaches drawn in ink, while Zhenzhen sat across from him holding a brush and laughing: “That stroke wasn’t drawn well – let’s do it again!”

Lady Chen Guo’s face darkened: “What kind of behavior is this!”

Yinqi and Zhenzhen quickly restrained their laughter and came forward to pay respects.

Yinqi bowed deeply to Lady Chen Guo, not forgetting to excuse Zhenzhen: “I wanted to play a tea-guessing game with Palace Lady Wu. I drink little tea and lost to her. I thought up this punishment myself – I’m willing to accept defeat. It’s not her fault.”

Lady Chen Guo looked Zhenzhen up and down but didn’t say much more. After a moment, she took her son’s hand and lovingly wiped away a thin layer of sweat from his forehead, saying gently: “As long as you find it interesting. Just wash off this ink promptly so it doesn’t leave marks on your face.”

Lady Luo worried that Lady Chen Guo might be displeased by this, so she later went to explain to her that although such games ignored hierarchy and were somewhat inappropriate, the Young Master had been in good spirits recently and looked better than before.

Lady Chen Guo was thoughtful, then said to Lady Luo: “This Wu Zhenzhen doesn’t know much about propriety, but she and the elder brother get along quite well. I think her appearance is also acceptable – why not let the elder brother take her into his household?”

Lady Luo smiled: “Madam thinks comprehensively. It’s rare to find a girl the Young Master can take a liking to. Taking her as a concubine early would also help the Young Master have offspring soon, letting Madam hold a grandson.”

Lady Chen Guo smiled slightly. Thinking of how Yinqi’s marriage prospects were neither high nor low, dragging on until today with no end in sight, she couldn’t help but furrow her brows and sigh inwardly.

Lady Luo, having received Lady Chen Guo’s authorization, conveyed this intention to Zhenzhen and Yinqi. Zhenzhen was startled and immediately declined politely. Lady Luo persuaded her: “Among noble relatives, who can compare with the prince in terms of closeness to the imperial family and noble status? Your ability to marry into the prince’s residence is a blessing earned from previous lives. Moreover, the Young Master’s character and appearance are first-rate – you wouldn’t be wronged.”

Zhenzhen claimed her humble origins made her unworthy of the Young Master. Lady Luo continued: “To be honest, with your background, you cannot be the Young Master’s principal wife, but you’re a palace lady who came from the palace after all – more than adequate to be the Young Master’s concubine. Since the Young Master isn’t yet married, it’s currently inappropriate to give you too high a title, but Lady Chen Guo said that once the Young Master takes a wife, she’ll report to His Majesty and have him grant you the title of County Lady or Commandery Lady – that wouldn’t be difficult.”

Zhenzhen had no choice but to make the excuse that when she left the palace, Food Service Director Sun said she was letting her go out to gain experience, and if Compassionate Fortune Palace ever needed people, they might still summon her back. Lady Luo sneered: “You actually take those words seriously. Palace ladies bestowed upon court officials by the palace – I’ve never heard of any being summoned back. Once bestowed, the original intention was for them to serve as concubines to the officials. How could these concubines be summoned back to the palace?”

Zhenzhen was stunned, thinking that once she left the palace, in the palace people’s view her chastity couldn’t be guaranteed, so indeed it would be difficult to return. This was probably Cheng Yuan’s original intention in having her enter the prince’s residence. Her heart grew increasingly heavy. She stopped arguing but remained silent no matter how Lady Luo tried to persuade her, never agreeing.

After Lady Luo left, Yinqi dismissed the others and gently asked Zhenzhen: “You’re unwilling – do you find me detestable?”

Zhenzhen shook her head, saying dejectedly: “The Young Master is very good, but I have my difficulties and cannot marry at this time.”

Yinqi asked what difficulties she had. Zhenzhen hesitated: “I still need to find my mother.”

She briefly told Yinqi about her mother’s disappearance. Yinqi said: “I haven’t heard of your mother’s name either, but I can help you inquire.” Then, after thinking, he smiled: “But this doesn’t prevent you from marrying. If you marry me, I’ll ask my father and mother to help search together – wouldn’t that be easier?”

Zhenzhen was at a loss for words. After a long while, she sighed and told Yinqi: “Someone once told me that if I could leave the palace, he hoped I would find him during Mid-Autumn Festival to admire the moon together.”

Yinqi was startled: “You agreed to him?”

Zhenzhen said: “I didn’t immediately agree, but in my heart… in my heart I…”

Yinqi quietly gazed at her, not knowing what he was thinking of. His breathing gradually became rapid, and his eyes began to lose focus.

Zhenzhen sensed something wrong and called out “Young Master.” Yinqi didn’t respond, his drifting gaze wandering over Zhenzhen’s face, though she couldn’t be sure he was actually looking at her.

“Why do you all want to leave the palace, all want to leave me?” Yinqi murmured.

Zhenzhen feared he might have another episode and tentatively reached for his hand, wanting to comfort him.

Yinqi suddenly jerked away from her extended hand, abruptly standing up. His chest heaved, blood rushing upward, and his eyes staring at Zhenzhen held anger but also glistened with tears: “Why do you want to go out? Don’t you know it’s dangerous outside? There are many people who want to harm you, harm you…”

He trembled, gasping for breath, a tear sliding down from his eyes.

Zhenzhen took out her handkerchief, approached him, and wanted to wipe his face. But as soon as the cotton handkerchief touched his face, he immediately cried out, forcefully pushing her away. His eyes then looked at the handkerchief, pupils unconsciously contracting, filled with terror.