When midday arrived,
Maomao
swapped places
with Hongniang
and took up her position
behind
Lady Gyokuyou.
Heeding
Yinghua's advice, she decided to fasten all three of the hairpins
she had received
to her sash. Since the item Lady Gyokuyou had given her was a necklace, it would have been acceptable to wear even one hairpin, but she was told that doing so would create an uneven distinction between the hairpins worn and those left aside.
Looking again at the banquet hall from the seat of honor, it was quite the magnificent sight.
Military officials were lined up on the west side, civil officials on the east. Only about twenty percent of them could be seated at the long tables, and
Gaoshun
was seated among the military officials as well. She realized he was more important than she had imagined, but she was surprised to see eunuchs sitting among them without any sense of incongruity.
The large man from earlier was also seated there. He was closer to the bottom of the table than Gaoshun, but given his age, he might well be a rapidly rising talent.
As for Jinshi,
he was nowhere to be found. For someone who had been so glimmering and eye-catching, you would think he would be easy to spot.
But since there was no need to look for him, she decided to devote herself to her actual task.
The aperitif came first.
From a glass
vessel, it was poured little by little into silver cups.
She slowly swirled the cup, visually checking the area of contact for any cloudiness.
If arsenic was present, the color would turn dark.
She slowly swirled it, sniffed the scent, and brought it to her lips. She could tell there was no poison, but as a food taster, she had to swallow it to be recognized as having done her job. She gulped to wet her throat, then rinsed her mouth with plain water.
(Oh?)
It seemed she was attracting attention.
The other food tasters hadn't even touched their cups to their lips yet.
Only after confirming that Maomao's was clear did they gingerly bring their own cups to their mouths.
(Well, that's normal.)
Everyone was afraid of dying.
If someone else would go first, it was safer to watch the outcome before following suit.
(If you were going to use poison at a banquet, it'd have to be something fast-acting.)
In this room, Maomao was the only one who willingly consumed poison. She was a rare breed not often found in this world.
(If I had my choice, I'd want fugu. Slip the innards into the soup just right.)
That tingling numbness at the tip of the tongue was irresistible. How many times had she vomited and undergone stomach washes just to feel that sensation? While lost in these thoughts, she caught the eye of the maidservant who had brought the appetizers. The corners of her mouth were turned up. She'd been grinning creepily. It was clear she was thoroughly creeped out.
She returned her face to its usual blank expression.
The appetizer she'd received was the Emperor's favorite—one that occasionally showed up as a late-night snack.
The meals were prepared by the rear palace kitchen, apparently. It was the same as always.
The other food tasters kept staring at Maomao, so she picked up her chopsticks and got on with it.
It was a fish and vegetable vinegared salad.
The food taster noted that despite being a lecherous old man, the Emperor's diet was surprisingly health-conscious.
(They mixed up the serving.)
The ingredients were different from usual.
The Emperor's favorite dish's
preparation method
wouldn't be gotten wrong.
If anything, what had been prepared for a different consort must have ended up here instead.
The rear palace's head of cuisine was highly capable—she would prepare separate versions of the same menu for the Emperor and the consorts.
Gyokuyou had been preparing menu items beneficial for nursing mothers ever since she began breastfeeding.
The tasting was finished and everyone was eating their appetizers, which meant the dishes had indeed been served incorrectly.
Unable to read the room
Risu
The consort's face was pale.
(Was it something she didn't like?)
Given that it was the Emperor's favorite dish, she couldn't very well leave it uneaten.
She ate it, enduring.
When she glanced behind her, the taster-maid had her eyes shut tight and was trembling at the lips. She could tell—there was the faintest arc of a smile there.
(She's seen something unpleasant.)
She turned her gaze forward and received the next dish.
○●○
If only this were just an ordinary banquet.
Li Bai
felt they had nothing in common with the nobility gazing down from the palace terrace.
What could possibly be enjoyable about holding a banquet outside in this cold, with the wind howling through?
No—if it were just a regular banquet, it would be fine. Following the example of old, sharing wine and eating meat among kindred spirits in a peach garden—that would surely be delightful.
But when it involved nobility, one always had poison along for the ride.
No matter how exquisite the ingredients or how masterfully the techniques of the kaiseki were deployed, once the tasting was done and the dishes went cold, the flavor was halved.
He didn't blame the tasters, but every time he watched them lift their spoons with pale, terrified faces, doing so at a glacial pace, it was enough to shrink his own stomach.
He had assumed today would again be another needlessly long stretch of wasted time.
But somehow, that didn't seem to be the case.
Normally, all the tasters would exchange glances while deciding the order in which to take their spoonfuls.
But today, there was one taster who seemed remarkably spirited.
The high consort's taster—a petite maid—didn't spare so much as a glance at her surroundings, simply swirling her silver cup and taking a sip of the aperitif.
She swallowed slowly, then rinsed her mouth as though nothing had happened.
Now that she thought about it, this was one of the girls who had received hairpins earlier. Nothing about her appearance particularly stood out—neatly put together, but without distinctive features. Among the many beautiful women of the rear palace's court, she would blend right in.
However, behind that blank expression, the girl possessed eyes that could intimidate others.
She had thought the girl was cold and unapproachable, but her expressions were surprisingly varied.
Just when you thought she was expressionless, she would suddenly break into a grin, then snap back to neutral, only to adopt a sour look.
And yet she performed her tasting duties as naturally as breathing, which was somehow unsettling.
What kind of face would she make next? This was perfect for killing time.
Broth
was offered, and the girl dipped in
her spoon.
She inspected it visually, then slowly placed it on her tongue.
The girl's eyes widened for an instant before her expression suddenly melted
into
a soft, languid smile.
A flush spread across her cheeks, and her eyes began to glisten. Her lips curved as white teeth and a lustrous tongue peeked from her half-open mouth.
This was exactly why women were terrifying.
The way she licked the droplet from her lips was the smile of the finest courtesan, like a perfectly ripe fruit.
How delicious must the dish be.
Was there something in this ordinary girl that could make her look so bewitchingly alluring—or was it the masterful skill of the court chef at work?
Just as she swallowed hard, the girl did something unbelievable.
She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, pressed it to her mouth, and spat out what she had eaten.
"This is poison."
The maid, her expression once again blank, reported the matter as a routine item of business, then vanished behind the curtain.
The banquet drew to a close amid a murmur of unease.