The blade gleamed like water, falling rhythmically with the young woman’s undulating wrist onto the cutting board, producing a series of crisp, swift sounds with even, orderly rhythm that resembled musical notes. The Songjiang bass on the cutting board had already been scaled and deboned, its flesh delicate and snow-white. Following that string of icy blade music, it was gradually parsed into slices thin as cicada wings, drifting down from the knife’s edge like scattered snow, accumulating in one place and layering like silk gauze, glowing with lustrous light under the watchful gaze of Director Pei Shangshi, who remained hidden in the shadows.
Wu Zhenzhen continued her work of slicing the fish, her hair bound with a silk kerchief, her temples and the light makeup on her face meticulously arranged. She gazed intently at the bass sashimi about to be completed, seemingly completely unaware of Director Pei’s presence.
Director Pei had been waiting for her in the kitchen for a long time, knowing she would surely come.
Zhenzhen was a Food Management female official who currently oversaw the meals for Crown Prince Zhao Xi in the Eastern Palace. On this day, the Emperor had specifically commanded his former mentor from his youth, Counselor Shen Han, to enter the Eastern Palace to give lessons to the Crown Prince and the Second and Third Princes. At noon, the Crown Prince invited Shen Han and his second brother to dine in the Eastern Palace. When the Emperor learned of this, he also commanded Director Pei to go and bestow several imperial dishes.
The imperial dishes were exquisite: lychee white kidneys, lamb tongue skewers, mandarin duck fried tripe, goose gizzard and palm soup with pickled vegetables, milk chamber jade bud soup, quail crystal sashimi, and the like. The Crown Prince graciously invited Shen Han and his brothers to take up their chopsticks, while he himself ate very little, smiling as he faced the precious delicacies and jade dishes, yet finding no pleasure in their taste.
Seeing this, Director Pei asked if the dishes she had prepared were not to the Crown Prince’s liking. The Crown Prince smiled gently and said, “Nothing else—I’ve just recovered from a long illness, and I can’t taste anything properly.”
At this time, he was thin and frail, his complexion as pale and delicate as ice and snow. Sitting upright, he had the bearing of a jade mountain about to topple, yet his tone was calm and gentle, making those who heard him feel as if bathed in spring breeze.
Director Pei immediately fell silent, but Wu Zhenzhen would not give up, persistently asking, “Then, is there anything Your Highness would like to taste?”
The Crown Prince pondered, then after a moment replied, “Lately I’ve often thought of Songjiang bass sashimi.”
Songjiang bass had large mouths and fine scales, fresh and tender with rich flavor, completely without fishy smell. People of the time often sliced it thin to eat raw, called bass sashimi.
Zhenzhen’s eyes lit up: “What a coincidence—the imperial kitchen has just received some Songjiang bass. I’ll go fetch one to slice for sashimi.”
“You cannot,” Shen Han heard this and objected. “The Crown Prince was recently unwell and has only just recovered. You absolutely must not consume raw, cold foods at this time. Bass sashimi is harmful to the stomach and intestines, and eating too much easily generates empty fire—it must not be consumed.”
Zhenzhen actually turned toward Shen Han, bowed respectfully, then continued, “Cold foods are indeed harmful to the stomach and intestines if consumed in large quantities, but a light taste should pose no great problem. Moreover, many times when we want to eat something, it’s not actually the tongue that needs it, but the stomach that needs it, the body that needs it. What food the human body requires often transmits messages to people through the tongue—for example, when the body needs water, it makes a person feel dry mouth and parched throat, requiring water to quench thirst. The Crown Prince finds all foods tasteless, yet solely remembers bass sashimi—perhaps it’s precisely because the bass sashimi contains what his body needs.”
“This…” Shen Han frowned and said, “Complete nonsense!” He was still thinking how to refute Zhenzhen’s words when he heard Second Prince Zhao Ai laugh from the side: “What Zhenzhen says is not entirely without reason. Elder brother has been eating warming and nourishing foods all year, and I fear there may be concerns of excessive warming and nourishment. If we now slightly use cold foods to counteract the accumulated effects of years of warming supplements, it might not be bad.”
The Crown Prince shook his head at Zhao Ai and said gently, “Second brother doesn’t understand medical principles—you should speak cautiously and listen more to Counselor Shen’s teachings. Bass sashimi generates empty fire if eaten too much, and is indeed unsuitable for consumption at this moment.”
Zhao Ai still smiled and said, “Today the Counselor discoursed with us on classical allusions, and I too recall an allusion: Dongpo Jushi loved eating bass sashimi. One day he suffered from red-eye disease, and the doctor advised him not to eat sashimi, lest it worsen his condition. Dongpo Jushi said: ‘I’d like to follow the doctor’s orders, but my mouth won’t agree. My mouth says: I serve as your mouth, he serves as your eyes—our positions are originally the same, so why should you favor one over the other? Just because the eyes are sick, you’d waste my sustenance?’ Now elder brother’s heart yearns for bass sashimi, yet his ears heed counsel like flowing water, wanting to abandon fine food. If elder brother follows his ears’ intention, wouldn’t that also be favoring one over the other, wronging his heart?”
Third Prince Zhao Hao listened and couldn’t help but smile. Shen Han glowered and coughed once, causing Zhao Hao to immediately fall silent, lowering his eyes and sitting properly with composed bearing.
Zhao Ai continued: “Jin dynasty’s Zhang Jiying was born in Wu Commandery, served as Grand Marshal’s Eastern Bureau Assistant, and lived long in Luoyang. One day when autumn winds first rose, Zhang Jiying remembered his hometown’s wild rice stems, brasenia soup, and bass sashimi, and couldn’t help but sigh: ‘Life is precious for following one’s emotions and satisfying one’s aspirations—why suffer by chasing after titles and ranks, leaving home for thousands of miles to do this joyless official work?’ He then resigned his post and returned home. Elder brother, you see—for this bass sashimi, even a Grand Marshal was willing to abandon everything and resign to return to his hometown. Today, if you follow your heart’s desire and taste one or two slices of the sashimi Zhenzhen has prepared, what harm could there be?”
The Crown Prince merely smiled without speaking. Seeing this, Shen Han bowed to the Crown Prince and said, “The Crown Prince restrains himself and returns to propriety, always serving as an example to the other princes—how could he be swayed by external things!” He then turned to Zhao Ai: “The Master said: ‘Look not at what is contrary to propriety, listen not to what is contrary to propriety, speak not what is contrary to propriety.’ Today the Eastern Palace’s Food Management official serves at the Crown Prince’s banquet, yet the Second Prince frequently regards her, listens to the Food Management official’s words, opens his mouth to agree, and directly calls the Food Management official by her personal name—this is truly improper conduct.”
Hearing this, Zhao Ai laughed and covered his face: “The Counselor speaks extremely correctly—look not at what is contrary to propriety, speak not what is contrary to propriety.”
He made a show of covering his eyes with both hands, yet the gaze escaping through his fingers still drifted toward Wu Zhenzhen with his barely concealed smile.
Shen Han sighed: “The Second Prince has passed twenty years of age and should understand reason and establish aspirations. Whether indulging willfully for fine food or beautiful women, both are unacceptable.” He paused, then continued with earnest, heartfelt words: “Abandoning everything for emotions—that’s something I would only have done at seventeen or eighteen.”
Director Pei had remained silent throughout, but hearing this, she suddenly spoke leisurely, saying lightly, “The key point is that the Counselor had nothing to begin with at that time.”
The chamber immediately fell silent as a tomb, with all listeners secretly suppressing their laughter while maintaining expressions that were both impassive and polite, though this made them feel quite strained. Shen Han’s grizzled beard trembled slightly. Turning back to discover the speaker was Director Pei, a belly full of inexpressible emotions ground through his heart. Ultimately wanting to speak but stopping himself, this debate about bass sashimi thus came to an abrupt end in this unexpected manner.
In the imperial kitchen, Wu Zhenzhen arranged the sliced bass sashimi piece by piece on a silver plate, shaped like flower petals, then filled a lacquered box with crushed ice and placed the silver plate upon it. Fish sashimi seasonings used scallions in spring and mustard in autumn. Zhenzhen ground the mustard spice, supplemented with salt and orange paste, then took some “Eight Harmony Pickles” made from ginger, garlic, tangerine, white plum, cooked chestnut yellow, rice, salt, and vinegar, placing them all in a food box for diners to use.
Zhenzhen held the food box in her hands. Director Pei thought she would head to the Eastern Palace, but she turned and walked directly toward where the Director was hiding.
She knelt low before Director Pei, presenting the bass sashimi with both hands, saying calmly, “Food Management Wu Zhenzhen wishes to serve bass sashimi to the Eastern Palace. Please, Director, taste it first.”
When those of high rank in the palace dined, the Royal Kitchen’s Food Service palace women must taste first, to discern flavors and test for poison. Director Pei examined the bass sashimi but did not move her silver chopsticks. After a short while, Zhenzhen asked softly, “May I?”
Director Pei nodded. Over the years, she had long since developed a keen eye—observing the food preparation process alone, she could guess what flavors would bloom on the tongue.
Zhenzhen expressed her thanks and put the bass sashimi back in the food box.
Director Pei suddenly said, “Three days from now is the Crown Prince’s birthday. Has everything that should be prepared been prepared?”
Zhenzhen replied that all was prepared. Director Pei asked again, “Has the Crown Prince been well lately?”
Zhenzhen said, “Much better, though sometimes he calls out for Empress Anshu and wakes startled from dreams.”
Empress Anshu, Mu Shi, was the birth mother of the Crown Prince and the other princes, having passed away many years ago.
Director Pei sighed, “The Crown Prince is filial. Every birthday, while others are busy celebrating, he is always secretly heartbroken, missing his mother.”
Zhenzhen nodded, “Yes, this is precisely why he remembered the bass sashimi.”
Empress Anshu had loved eating Songjiang bass sashimi. The Crown Prince would not forget this point—moreover, a person’s memories from youth are always partly written by taste.
Director Pei fell silent. This was the real reason Zhenzhen persisted in slicing sashimi for the Crown Prince, and also why she had not stopped Zhenzhen.
She waved her hand, letting Zhenzhen leave with the bass sashimi.
Wu Zhenzhen was a special existence among the Royal Kitchen palace women. She had been selected from the common people to enter the palace at seventeen, unlike most palace women who entered at seven or eight years old to be trained from childhood. This background also made her appear to have a kind of “wildness” different from other palace women.
The palace had quite a few people to serve, so the Royal Kitchen would divide the palace women into groups and dispatch them to various palace sections to serve different masters. Where female officials with rank would be assigned was designated by those of high rank or the Director, while other palace women could report where they hoped to go, then have the Director approve or adjust according to circumstances.
Among all destinations, the three princes’ palace chambers were what the palace women most yearned for. After all, they were in the prime of their youth, and their boundless imagination about the future could find sustenance in the equally young princes.
They hoped for good assignments for themselves while being particularly concerned about their companions’ destinations, hoping companions who worked alongside them would be compatible with them, yet fearing their skills might exceed their own and prevent them from standing out. After entering the palace, Zhenzhen was like a seed blown by spring winds onto the palace roof tiles—with just a bit of soil, she began to grow vigorously. The Royal Kitchen palace women quickly discovered she was an unusual companion or rival, all secretly observing her and pondering her goals.
When Zhenzhen needed to report where she wished to serve, the palace women from the same group were quite nervous. Several girls who had grown up in the palace from childhood simply went directly to find her. The leading palace woman, Tang Li, asked aggressively, “Speak! Crown Prince, Second Prince, and Third Prince—which do you choose?”
Zhenzhen looked around at the palace women who had surrounded her completely, then calmly countered, “If I choose, will you deliver him to me?”
Tang Li was struck speechless, while the others, after a brief silence, burst into laughter that resounded throughout the Royal Kitchen. This little story spread throughout the Six Departments with the laughter, and many people came to know Wu Zhenzhen through it. That time, she hadn’t applied to serve any prince—serving the Crown Prince was the result of later coincidental circumstances.
Zhenzhen was dedicated and responsible in serving the Crown Prince, her performance beyond reproach, and her caution and care were no less than palace women trained in the palace from childhood. Yet Director Pei had never told her or others that she had actually encountered her once outside the palace before her entry, when Zhenzhen had been even more different from now.
There were many taverns around West Lake, abundant with fine dishes and famous delicacies. Sometimes the Emperor would have Director Pei leave the palace to purchase some folk foods to send back to the palace. That day, Director Pei went to Hengyun Tower by the lakeside to buy several kinds of pastries. The shop owner recognized her, knowing she was a palace woman from within, and immediately invited her to the upstairs elegant chamber, offering tea and asking her to wait briefly.
The sound of strings and bamboo drifted from the lake surface into the chamber. Director Pei thus walked to the window and gazed out at the lake scenery.
The weather was clear and fine then, with rippling waves on the lake, gentle breeze through sparse willows, and the fragrance of lotuses wafting. A painted pleasure boat swayed in the lake’s heart, with several elegantly dressed women standing within, all fashionably attired, clustered together like flowers and brocade, appearing to be courtesans on an outing.
A youth sat at the boat’s bow, smiling as he held a four-stringed lute horizontally, slender jade fingers plucking the silk strings, playing a tune of “Moon over the West River” toward the spring breeze: “I ask after the spring colors by the lake, returning again after three years. The east wind carries me across the lake in this boat, willow threads brushing my face. The world’s paths are now familiar to me, my heart peaceful wherever I go. Below the Cold Light Pavilion, water mirrors sky, as a flock of sandpipers takes flight.”
The “youth” sang while playing, dressed in fashionable silk garments, looking like a wealthy young dandy, yet with a tender, clear voice that was unmistakably that of a young woman. Director Pei suspected she was a musical entertainer, but when the piece finished, the women in the boat gathered around praising her. The girl laughed and spread her arms in welcome, embracing left and right, calling for servants to give rewards, appearing more like a patron seeking pleasure.
This song-singing, pleasure-seeking “youth” was Wu Zhenzhen. When Director Pei first saw her in the palace later, she recognized her immediately but did not reveal this. Years of palace life had taught her to be cautious in speech and action, following the principle that one less affair was better than one more—she had become increasingly silent.
During solitary nights, Director Pei often thought of Zhenzhen singing on West Lake. So young and tender in years, yet she sang “the world’s paths are now familiar to me” without a trace of melancholy. Did she understand the meaning in those words then?
Tonight it was raining. Director Pei lay on her couch, quietly gazing at the bamboo shadows dancing on the window lattice, thinking that she was now sixty years old, still feeling every step was fraught with danger in this palace, extremely cautious in all things, yet still seeing only vast emptiness before her eyes, having no certainty about the future, not knowing when she might fall into some unforeseeable dark abyss.
She was willing to remember Zhenzhen’s appearance from those days again and again—it was like a beam of light illuminating the depths of her heart, making her recall many past events.
Did I once have such spirited confidence as she had? Director Pei touched her temples that had long since turned white and sighed softly.
The sudden rain paused, and the window gauze gradually reflected bright colors, likely to again reveal a scene of gentle breeze brushing the zither and bright moon at the window. Director Pei drifted hazily into sleep.
Under the rain-washed eaves, drop by drop, were the years passing by.
At dawn, Director Pei was awakened by sounds outside the window that gradually intensified like boiling water. People were constantly running about, apparently conveying some extremely important information. She opened the door and went out, discovering several palace women already kneeling before the steps. Seeing her, they all bowed their heads deeply, and some began to sob.
“What’s wrong?” Director Pei asked, inexplicably feeling a chill different from the early morning cold.
Initially no one answered. After she inquired again, Ling Fengxian, a palace woman who had entered the palace together with Wu Zhenzhen, finally raised her head and said softly, “The Crown Prince… the Crown Prince is not well…”
Director Pei was startled and quickly pressed, “Not well? What do you mean?”
Ling Fengxian’s body trembled slightly, her face showing undisguisable alarm: “He’s… he’s not going to make it, I fear… not going to make it…”