A concubine becomes empress. Though Gyokuyou was already the recognized official wife in name, it was apparently important to make that openly visible to those around her.
In war, the greater the disparity in power, the fewer the casualties. If concubines of equal rank each bore a son around the same time, it would rain blood. Gyokuyou had been made official wife before Rifa—a fellow high-ranking concubine—had given birth.
Rifa's bloodline was worthy of becoming empress. However, there was a reason she had not been named official wife when she had previously borne a son.
(There was no telling whether the child would survive to adulthood, and in a sense, there was the matter of her lineage.)
The Emperor currently tended to avoid consanguineous marriages. In the previous Emperor's era, the repeated inbreeding had weakened the bloodline, and those afflicted by the same epidemic had been dying off in droves.
If Rifa—who held the qualifications to serve as Grand Empress—could not assume that role, it was a separate matter from her personal qualities.
And then there was one more thing.
Going forward, it would be necessary to maintain good relations with Gyokuyou's clan, particularly concerning ties with other nations.
In any case, as matters stood, Gyokuyou was someone dwelling above the clouds, nearly at the very summit. Anyone meeting her for the first time would be cowed—and indeed, they were.
"Hehehehe.
Dim sum—
I do hope you'll find them to your liking?"
The owner of that gentle voice, so welcome after a long while, had prepared sweets with restrained sweetness. The one serving them had the look of a capable maid, but peeking through were the glimmering, gossip-loving eyes of
Yinghua.
The bright, obliging maid reportedly treated her the same even after more than half a year apart. Unfortunately, the head maid—
Hongniang—
—was keeping a sharp watch nearby, so she refrained from trying to speak to her. But the chaperone soon drifted off on her own.
(May I have just one?)
Unlike Maomao, who could afford such composure, the one seated beside her—
Yao—
—was frozen stiff as ice.
Yan Yan—
—was—
expressionless.
It's hard to tell, but she keeps glancing at Yao, so she's probably at least a little worried.
After they had grown accustomed to making house calls to the consorts in the rear palace, Maomao and the others were finally allowed to accompany Gyokuyou on her house calls.
Gyokuyou had probably been waiting for this moment. She had even gone so far as to recommend that Maomao take the examination to become an official lady-in-waiting assigned to a court physician. And since Maomao had come, she undoubtedly considered this one of her rare moments of entertainment, which was why a tea party of sorts was currently underway.
"U-um, where is the Chinese medicine doctor?"
Yao asked Yinghua. The Chinese medicine doctor was Maomao's father.
"Yes, he's examining the Crown Prince at the moment. Since the opportunity has come,
Lingli
and her ladies-in-waiting will also be examined. There's nothing else to do, so Her Majesty Gyokuyou suggested we enjoy some tea,"
Hongniang had probably left to keep an eye on things.
Princess Lingli had grown quite a bit. The tottering toddler had immediately run off to explore the moment she arrived at the palace, claiming to be a guest. Her mischievous streak seemed to have been inherited from Gyokuyou. Unfortunately, she didn't appear to remember Maomao at all, and she apparently considered all visitors to be playmates, since she had been following them around the entire time. She had been sent away by Hongniang at one point and had left looking rather vexed.
(That's just for show.)
Gyokuyou, seated in the place of honor, had a glimmer in her eyes and looked positively desperate to hear an interesting story.
(There's no such material, though.)
Yinghua was also seated there, looking rather pleased with herself.
"Say, I'd love to hear an interesting story for once — doesn't anyone have something?"
(She's putting me on the spot!)
If a good story had come flowing out right then, Maomao would never have been called inarticulate again. But unfortunately, she simply didn't have the gift of the gab.
However, an unexpected person raised her hand. That person was Yan Yan.
"I'm not sure if it will be to your liking,
"Oh, really?
It's a story about an incident that happened long ago — would that be alright?"
"Oh, how exciting."
Gyokuyou was brimming with interest. Yan Yan, who was usually so reticent, completely dropped her quiet demeanor and began to recount the story at length.
○●○
Long ago, in a certain place, a cooking competition between chefs was held. The chefs vied for the prestigious position of head cook at a certain estate, their dignity on the line.
One was a chef who had lived in the region since long ago, and the other was a chef who had drifted in from a faraway place.
The dishes were an egg dish of the master's liking and
tangyuan.
Both chefs were confident in their skills. So despite the plain ingredients, they poured their hearts into the cooking.
Both dishes were supposed to be evenly matched, impossible to call. However, one of the chefs — the one who had come from far away — failed. The egg dish turned out so terribly that it was absolutely not something you could present to the master of the estate.
At the very least, she had put out just the tangyuan, but upon tasting it, the master flew into a rage and declared he would beat the chef to death.
The chef couldn't make sense of it at all. The ingredients used had already been prepared beforehand, and as for the ingredients used, they were the same ones the other chef had used too.
Why did the dishes turn out so different?
○●○
(Not so much an interesting story as)
It sounded like a riddle to Maomao.
A glance at Yanyan revealed a testing sort of atmosphere.
"Do you know why the cooking failed?"
A brief glance at Maomao. This sort of pattern was familiar.
"Could it be that she simply cooked it wrong?"
The one who spoke up was Yinghua.
"I did say the chef was still young, didn't I?"
"Yes. But as a chef, she was top-notch — which is precisely why she was summoned from such a faraway place."
Yanyan added that clarification. The master, Yao, sat quietly, gazing at the trembling tea with a solemn expression.
(A failed dish, one you can't serve — that must mean something truly terrible was made)
If even the dumplings were clearly off, could it have been as bad as mixing up salt and sugar?
(A taste disorder?)
That couldn't be it. If anything were possible...
"I have a few questions."
Maomao raised her hand.
"What is it?"
"What kind of water was primarily drunk in that region?"
"Isn't water the same everywhere?"
In response to Yinghua's answer, En'en shook her head on Maomao's behalf.
"That was a place where fresh water was scarce, so they often served water with salt mixed in for anything other than drinking. The water was naturally hard, and since rock salt was mined there, it frequently got mixed in."
"So what you're saying is, when boiling the dumplings, the cook—who was an outsider unfamiliar with the water's properties—used the saltwater without realizing it."
At Maomao's answer, En'en nodded slowly. Yinghua clapped her hands as though she was convinced.
However, Gyokuyou tilted her head.
"Wait—aren't you supposed to boil dumplings in saltwater?"
To Gyokuyou's question, Maomao answered.
"Dumplings are fished out as soon as they're cooked through. Once they're done, they naturally float to the surface."
But adding salt changes everything. Salt alters the weight of the water. When dumplings are boiled in heavier water, they float to the top before the heat has reached the center.
"So the dumplings were raw?"
"Yes."
En'en was silently nodding, so that had to be the right answer. Yinghua, who occasionally found herself in the position of cooking at the Crystal Palace, seemed to have a sudden realization upon hearing about the saltwater.
"But what about the egg dish? That wasn't because of the saltwater too, was it?"
Once again, Yinghua tilted her head.
"If I knew what the egg dish was and what ingredients were available, I could figure this out as well."
"Then what do you think was made, and with what ingredients?"
At En'en's words, Maomao answered.
"
Steamed egg custard
with
maitake mushrooms
—I believe that's what they used."
Maitake mushrooms were considered a luxury ingredient in certain regions. Eggs were, of course, a highly nutritious ingredient as well, but for a cooking showdown, they would need a star ingredient to really stand out.
"Maitake mushrooms have a wonderful, firm texture when eaten, so they were likely steamed with minimal heating to preserve that quality. Raw maitake mushrooms also have a tenderizing effect on meat, which is probably why the egg failed to set properly."
Certain foods possessed properties that could break down meat. Many fruits were like this — when stewed together with meat, they could soften it remarkably.
"Oh, really!"
Yinghua's eyes lit up, clearly fascinated by what she had just heard.
"That's correct."
Yan Yan's eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. Her expression remained flat, but there was something almost sulky about the way Maomao had answered so smoothly.
Yan Yan had been quite talkative up until now, while Yao, by contrast, sat quietly. She kept her head somewhat lowered, looking faintly embarrassed.
"Oh my? What happened to that cook?"
"Please rest assured. She was rescued by someone else. She wasn't able to become the cook at the estate, but she found employment at another household. There was a young lady who said she wanted proper steamed egg, and as luck would have it, the lady's family happened to be acquainted with the estate's owner."
"I'm glad to hear that," Consort Gyokuyou said with a warm smile.
It wasn't quite the kind of interesting story she had been hoping for, but it seemed to have been enjoyable in its own way.
"Yes. And that cook happened to have a very young sister, so thanks to the young lady, the girl never had to end up on the streets."
Yan Yan's lips curved upward.
(So she can smile like a normal person.)
That warm grin seemed directed, in a way, at the visibly self-conscious Yao.
(So that's what this was about.)
Maomao thought she understood now why Yan Yan had brought up this particular story.
She decided that simply staying silent and pretending not to notice was, in its own way, her own brand of kindness.