The Emperor’s morning meal was taken in Funing Palace with relatively simple dishes, while the most elaborate meal of the day—the noon meal—was served in Jieming Palace.
Jieming Palace faced the East Gallery Gate Tower, beneath which were the Six Departments of the Palace Administration and the imperial kitchens. During mealtimes, an attendant would stand on the gate tower, drawing out his voice to announce each dish one by one—this was called “allocating food.” Following these announcements, a line of imperial kitchen servants called “court servants,” dressed in purple robes with their heads wrapped in rolled-corner caps, would enter the palace. Each carried a food box covered with yellow dragon-embroidered cloth in his right hand and a red silk embroidered towel in his left. After presenting more than ten boxes, another dozen or so servants would enter, each carrying golden gourd-shaped food containers. Once the food boxes reached the palace, the dishes continued to be passed through the hands of palace attendants and Royal Kitchen women to the Emperor’s table. The palace women would take out the dishes and first serve small portions for Pei Shangshi or Wu Zhenzhen to taste. If they felt anything wrong with the flavor or felt unwell after eating, the dishes would be immediately replaced. Only if they detected no abnormalities would they invite the Emperor to eat.
Pei Shangshi said she was getting old, and the imperial physicians reminded her that many foods were not suitable for her consumption. With the Emperor’s approval, most imperial meals were pre-tasted by Wu Zhenzhen. Wu Zhenzhen was very willing to do this work. On the first day, she tasted more than twenty delicacies. Although each portion was small, eating them all could be considered a feast, and she felt very satisfied. After one meal, she felt that this position of Food Preparation was extremely easy—getting paid to eat the Emperor’s imperial cuisine without having to cook it herself was truly the greatest bargain in the world. She couldn’t help but secretly chuckle several times.
However, this joy didn’t last long. After the first day’s noon meal, Pei Shangshi asked Wu Zhenzhen, “Which dishes did you think had the best flavors today?”
Wu Zhenzhen smiled and said, “The wine-braised lamb, spicy shrimp soup, and lotus duck skewers were all excellent.”
“Good. Now go to the Royal Kitchen and make these three dishes,” Pei Shangshi commanded.
“Ah?” Wu Zhenzhen asked in astonishment, “Are there recipes for me to follow?”
“No.”
“Can someone teach me?”
“No. After you finish cooking, you may ask the Royal Kitchen female officials or the imperial chefs to taste them—they might give you some suggestions.”
“But I only took one chopstick-full of each dish…”
“Make them according to the flavors you sensed from that one chopstick-full.”
Wu Zhenzhen quickly experienced the greatest pressure since entering the palace. Having to recreate a dish based solely on the impression left by a single bite, with no help throughout the process, having to blindly guess all ingredients and procedures. Her first attempt was a complete disaster—the flavors she produced were nothing like what she had tasted, and when she asked female officials and imperial chefs to taste them, their opinions were all over the place, making it impossible to know who was right.
From then on, Wu Zhenzhen approached each tasting session with serious preparation. With each morsel that entered her mouth, as her tongue savored it, she mentally identified what seasonings it contained and what cooking methods were used. After meals, she would return to the kitchen to recreate the dishes she found most interesting, then seek opinions from various people.
Gradually, she discovered there were tricks to soliciting opinions: some people had eaten these dishes and would give honest feedback; some hadn’t eaten them but would randomly pass off their guesses as recipes to Wu Zhenzhen; still others knew the true methods but wouldn’t tell her honestly—either remaining silent or deliberately pointing her in the wrong direction, especially the chefs in the imperial kitchen, who habitually acted this way. So learning how to manage relationships with them and make them willing to cooperate also became a difficult problem Wu Zhenzhen had to study.
“The Royal Kitchen and imperial kitchen should complement each other, but in reality they’re mutually suspicious,” Pei Shangshi later told Wu Zhenzhen. “The more skilled the chefs are, the more they look down on Royal Kitchen female officials, thinking we just reap without sowing while constantly finding fault and disparaging them. Therefore, we must diligently practice our culinary skills—our techniques cannot be inferior to theirs. When making His Majesty’s meal plans or criticizing imperial kitchen dishes, if they question us, we must be able to calmly explain every detail.”
Soon after, Wu Zhenzhen faced direct hostility from the imperial kitchen.
The Emperor’s daily menu had always been planned by Pei Shangshi. One day, when Pei Shangshi felt unwell and took two days off, she instructed Wu Zhenzhen to plan the next day’s dishes based on the recent menus she had drafted. Outside the palace’s Hening Gate was an early market called “Red Fork,” where all kinds of fish, meat, vegetables, and fruits were available. Palace consorts and women often asked attendants to buy fresh items there to try. Wu Zhenzhen noticed that the pork bought by one Royal Kitchen woman was quite fresh. Suddenly remembering that the red meat in imperial cuisine was almost all lamb with very little beef and absolutely no pork, she had an idea and added a dish of Dongpo pork to the menu.
When the menu was sent to the Imperial Cuisine Bureau, Li Dahong, the head chef known as “Chef Li,” soon came angrily to the Royal Kitchen looking for Wu Zhenzhen.
Slapping the menu down on the table in front of Wu Zhenzhen, Li Dahong shouted, “The imperial kitchen doesn’t serve pork! Doesn’t Food Preparation Wu know this?”
Wu Zhenzhen remained calm: “Just because it hasn’t been done before doesn’t mean it can’t be added. Must imperial cuisine always stick to tradition and use only those few types?”
“This is part of ancestral family law! Emperors of our dynasty have never eaten pork—how can you say it can be changed just like that!” Li Dahong raged, continuing to berate Wu Zhenzhen, saying she didn’t understand any rules and wondering how she had become Food Preparation.
The commotion reached the Emperor, who was still drinking tea in Jieming Palace. He summoned both of them to ask about the dispute. Wu Zhenzhen explained the cause and added, “Although lamb is good, eating it daily can easily cause internal heat. Pork is mild in nature and sweet in taste—it can moisten the intestines and stomach, supplement kidney qi, and resolve heat toxins. Alternating between lamb and pork would be very beneficial for nourishing deficiency and moistening dryness. Moreover, because palace nobles favor lamb, lamb prices in the common market have become artificially inflated. If His Majesty tries eating pork and the people hear of it, they might follow suit, thereby somewhat suppressing lamb prices.”
The Emperor smiled: “What you say has some merit. I did eat Dongpo pork at civilian restaurants when I was a prince, but I found it somewhat greasy and didn’t much like it.”
Wu Zhenzhen said, “There are ways to prepare pork that aren’t greasy. If Your Majesty is willing to try, I’ll make a dish for you.”
With the Emperor’s consent, the next day Wu Zhenzhen had someone buy pork and went to the kitchen. She took the lean meat and cut it into thin, fine slices, washing them with soy sauce. Then she took out her iron wok, heated it until red-hot, and stir-fried the meat slices. When they turned slightly white, she removed them and cut them into shreds, then put them back in the wok. She added pickled melon, fermented radish, garlic, cardamom, Sichuan peppercorns, orange zest, and sesame oil, stir-frying everything together with the pork shreds. After a while, she served it up, adding a little vinegar and mixing it evenly when presenting it to the Emperor.
After tasting it, the Emperor smiled: “The flavor is excellent. This preparation method is quite different from imperial cuisine—it has a very down-to-earth, homely quality.”
“When I was small, my mother used to pan-fry pork shreds for me and mix them with these seasonings,” Wu Zhenzhen smiled. “I never thought to learn how to make it then, but later when Pei Shangshi taught me to recreate dishes I’d eaten, I prepared the seasonings according to my memory, but changed to using an iron wok for stir-frying. This way the pork shreds are more tender and absorb flavors better.”
The Emperor nodded: “Very good. I never imagined pork could have such flavor. This shows that ingredients have no inherent nobility or baseness—the key lies in the cook’s intentions toward the diner.”
The Emperor continued eating a few more bites and was chatting casually with Wu Zhenzhen when a palace attendant came to report that Liu Jieyu was outside requesting an audience.
The Emperor immediately let her in, smiling as he greeted her: “Today Food Preparation Wu made a dish that’s quite innovative—you should try it too.”
Liu Jieyu responded and came over, sitting beside the Emperor. She looked at the plate of pork shreds with a smile, but her smile suddenly froze as she asked, “This is pork?”
Wu Zhenzhen confirmed it was. Liu Jieyu’s complexion changed drastically, her chest heaving. She immediately covered her mouth with her hand and began dry-heaving repeatedly.
“Your Majesty, the lady has never been able to eat pork…” Aunt Yu, who had entered with her, explained with a troubled expression.
The Emperor suddenly understood: “Yes, the palace has never used pork, so I didn’t think of this.”
The Emperor immediately ordered all the food removed and comforted Liu Jieyu for a while. When she felt slightly better, he brought her back to Funing Palace.
Back in the inner chamber of Funing Palace, the Emperor sat shoulder to shoulder with Liu Jieyu, saying gently, “You’re pregnant now—how could you walk such a long distance to see me?”
Liu Jieyu said, “Your Majesty hasn’t come to Hibiscus Pavilion for a long time. I think of you morning and evening every day, always waiting but you never come, so I had to shamelessly come looking for you myself.”
“Didn’t I just go to Hibiscus Pavilion the day before yesterday?” the Emperor smiled.
“That was already two days ago! Not seeing you for one day feels like three autumns—this has been six autumns!” Liu Jieyu frowned and pouted.
The Emperor comforted her with gentle words: “You should rest more now, and it’s not convenient for me to disturb you every day. We have a long future ahead—we still have decades to spend together.”
Liu Jieyu leaned over to embrace the Emperor’s waist, nestling in his arms: “Now that I’m no longer the one serving Your Majesty’s meals, I’m always anxious, worried that Your Majesty isn’t eating to your satisfaction, and also worried that Your Majesty is too satisfied and won’t want me to serve you anymore.”
The Emperor laughed: “Don’t worry. When it comes to culinary skills, who could compare to you? When you give birth to the child, you’ll surely be trapped in Jieming Palace again, serving me all day… Even now, if you don’t mind the fatigue, you could occasionally make a dish and have someone bring it to me.”
Liu Jieyu smiled and agreed, then said wistfully after a moment, “You still find newcomers fresh and interesting—you’re even willing to eat pork that she makes.”
The Emperor laughed heartily and patted her shoulder: “Food Preparation Wu grew up among common people, so she’s not as particular about ingredient selection. Eating her cooking could be considered observing the people’s conditions, and listening to her talk helps me understand some of the hardships of common life. I regard her like a child of the younger generation—don’t think too much about it.”
Liu Jieyu asked again, “Why wasn’t Feng Jing chosen initially? She’s been promoted to Food Management, and in terms of both talent and status, she would be more suitable to serve by Your Majesty’s side.”
The Emperor said, “Although she has severed emotional ties with the Crown Prince, forgetting feelings is easier said than done. Being by my side, she would inevitably encounter the Crown Prince frequently, and both of them would feel awkward.”
“Such a good match was ruined just like that…” Liu Jieyu sighed, then thought of something else and asked, “Is Feng Jing still unwilling to participate in designing Gathering Scenery Garden?”
The Emperor shook his head: “She feels the current situation is fine, and I don’t want to force her.”
“Has Your Majesty found a suitable person then?” the consort asked again.
“Not yet,” the Emperor said. “The Empress Dowager and I have looked at proposals from several people recommended by the Ministry of Works, but we’re not satisfied with any of them—they’re either too rigid or too flashy.”
Liu Jieyu looked up at him from his embrace, her eyes rippling with clear waves as she said softly, “I’ve actually thought of someone who might satisfy both Your Majesty and the Empress Dowager.”