Chapter 32: Grain in Ear

Chapter 32: Grain in Ear

Could this be the woman who might one day become his Empress? The Emperor could hardly believe it. She was crouched before a stewing pot, ready to lift the lid at the slightest hint of rising steam, as if preparing to fend off an impending onslaught.

A mere concubine's daughter, though not indulged as the offspring of a primary wife, shouldn't have stooped so low as to cook for herself like a beggar. Who was she disgracing? Didn't she feel any shame with people passing by, watching her? Did she have no sense of self-respect or self-love?

His temples throbbed...a piercing pain that radiated from the center of his brain, tormenting him, yet beyond his grasp. The Emperor stood silently behind her, his hands clasped behind his back, as night fell, cloaking his figure in layers of darkness.

Little Fu felt deeply uneasy beside her. He licked his lips, yearning to speak but hesitant. Glancing over his shoulder inadvertently, he was startled to find a group of silent Imperial Guards standing just three paces away.

These First-Class Guards were tasked with safeguarding the emperor's travels and attending to his every need. While His Majesty was in his tent, they stood guard, each armed with a green-sheathed square-headed waist knife, encircling the large encampment. When the emperor ventured out of his leather tent, they were to follow closely, unless specifically instructed to stay behind.

Little Fu felt somewhat bewildered. He imagined that the emperor had not intended to bring an audience to witness the Empress Dowager's cooking. Maintaining one's dignity was crucial for their masters, and good servants must protect their master's reputation. He wished to dismiss the guards, but these imperial sword-bearers held high ranks, and would not heed his commands. Moreover, he lacked the courage to remind the emperor, who was remaining silent to avoid alerting Ying Girl. If he startled His Majesty, he might soon find himself out of a job.

All Little Fu could do now was rely on Ying Girl, hoping she would be observant enough to notice the change in atmosphere and thus save some face. Yet, instead, she asked, "Did you bring the jicama? And the pickled radish?"

Songe was equally oblivious, absorbed in stoking the fire with a poker, boasting proudly, "Not just jicama, I also snatched a handful of pickled beans and a plate of sesame seeds. For our journey to Gonghua City, we'll have a different taste each day! Hah!"

Ying Girl seemed pleased with the servant girl, nodding approval. "Exactly, think ahead and all will fall into place, making life enjoyable. It's getting a bit chilly at night, fetch the cloak, please. We can't afford to catch a cold and bring any illness to the Empress Dowager."

Songe sighed softly, finally turning her head. Just as she was about to rise, the scene before her startled her so much that she tumbled back onto the cushion.

"What's wrong?" Yingming asked her. "Did your legs go numb?"

Songe's face paled, then flushed, and she stammered, "M-Master... M-Master..."

Yingming's heart skipped a beat, sensing trouble. Sure enough, when she turned around, the emperor stood five or six steps behind her, his face darkened, with a smirking Little Fu by his side. Further away, torchlight faintly illuminated countless black boots – the imperial guards were watching the unfolding drama with intense interest.

It was unclear what had provoked this encounter. It seemed that old rivals could never avoid each other; one of them would inevitably seek out conflict, relentlessly searching for discomfort until a confrontation erupted.

The emperor gazed down at her. "What are you doing?"

Yingming pondered for a moment. She couldn't possibly say that she was afraid of being poisoned and preferred to cook for herself. Such words were clearly not to be spoken lightly. Fortunately, she was quick-witted and adapted to the situation. "Your Majesty, I'm preparing porridge for you."

What would the emperor's reaction be next? He would surely scoff at her, calling her concerns trivial and mocking her for worrying about the wellbeing of an emperor. Then, he would scold her, saying, "Go ahead and eat it yourself, I don't need it." The pot of porridge would return to her.

Living in the palace required sharp wits. Merely predicting the other party's response wasn't enough; one had to plan ahead, considering the second and even third possible replies to be fully prepared. Yingming was a cautious person. After several encounters with the emperor, she had begun to understand his ways. At worst, she might face another reprimand, but laughter would eventually diffuse the tension.

This time, however, her calculations proved wrong. The emperor didn't criticize her as she expected. Instead, he calmly nodded and instructed Little Fu, "Did you hear that? Send someone to bring it to the main tent."

Upon finishing his words, the emperor turned and left. As soon as he did, the attendants dispersed like a receding tide, leaving Yingming and Songe staring at each other in dismay, both swallowing hard – it seemed their dinner for the night was ruined.

Not only that, but the emperor turned back after a few steps to add, "Also, send those pickled vegetables to my temporary residence."

Yingming realized that this man's wickedness knew no bounds. Even bandits would leave someone a bowl of noodles, but he wanted to utterly destroy her?

Little Fu had to follow the imperial order. He held his whisk and bowed, saying, "Miss, don't be upset. I'll find a way to return your pot later. Oh, and about your dinner – what will you have for the night? The kitchen prepared steamed chicken with oyster sauce and fresh mushroom stir-fry. How about I also get you a serving of Buddha's Delight shrimp, along with two types of pastries, today being lama cake and almond tofu? Will that do?"

Even when spending the night in the wilderness, the emperor enjoyed sumptuous meals. Why did he have to cause trouble for her? Taking away someone's food was equivalent to harming their parents. What deep-seated hatred did he hold that made him constantly plot against her and wish her ill?

Unfortunately, it was she who had offered to serve the emperor, so she couldn't blame anyone. Yingming forced a smile and said, "No need to bother. We still have steamed buns in the carriage. A couple of bites will suffice." Turning to Songe, she called out, "Stop standing there. Haven't you heard the emperor? Bring out the pickled vegetables."

Little Fu knew that she was upset about losing her meal, but there was nothing he could do. The emperor had seen the many attendants behind them and didn't want to embarrass her. It was indeed a first to see someone cooking inside a curtained city.

Trying to console her, Little Fu said, "His Majesty mentioned on the road that the long journey has made him quite nauseous. He has no appetite tonight and desires something light. Coincidentally, Miss has porridge here – it shows how much you're thinking of His Majesty." He forced a dry laugh and pointed at the stew pot. "Shall I carry it away and present it to His Majesty?"

Yingming watched helplessly as a little eunuch approached, wrapped the pot with a thick towel, and lifted it by its copper handles, her heart aching as if bleeding.

Songe handed over the pickled vegetables to Little Fu and watched them disappear into the distance. With a sorrowful look, he glanced at his mistress. "We worked so hard to make that stew, and now it's taken away just like that."

Yingming sighed. "Taking away the pot is better than taking away my head. Forgetting to light a fire myself while on this journey was my oversight."

"What do we do now? I was looking forward to a warm meal tonight. Now that's ruined."

What could they do? If you had money, you lived in a tile-roofed house; if not, you made do with a broken vat. It would pass. Yingming scooped water to douse the fire and looked up at the moon. "Tonight, let's gaze at the moon as our meal."

San Qing approached at that moment. Seeing the mistress and servant leaning against the carriage wheel, he felt a deep sense of sorrow.

"Miss," San Qing said, "don't sit here. His Majesty has summoned you." As he spoke, he handed Songe a package wrapped in yellow wax paper, which contained braised meat. Exchanging the meat for pickles—wasn't that thoughtful?

Yingming hesitated upon hearing this. "Why summon me now? Is it the Emperor's idea or did Manager De send you?"

San Qing sighed. "Don't suspect anything, Miss. Impersonating the Emperor's will is no joke. Neither Manager De nor even Chief Eunuch Liu from the Palace of Heavenly Purity would dare. Naturally, His Majesty summoned you. He must have something to entrust to you. It won't take much time, so please go."

Yingming reluctantly began to move, thinking that she had accepted the Empress Dowager and the Empress's request to accompany them, knowing it would be a difficult task. Before leaving the palace, she had expected nothing but the vast landscape beyond the walls to be enjoyable. The sweltering heat during the day didn't bother her, as she was doing this out of respect. However, the thought of facing the Emperor's challenges when resting made her uneasy. In the palace, she could retreat to the Cining Palace, and the Emperor would think twice before provoking her due to the Grand Empress Dowager. Now that she was outside, she was like a mouse fallen into a snake's lair. Whether she could return to the palace unscathed was uncertain.

She faltered, feeling a bit scared. "Does Shuida know why His Majesty wants to see me?"

Those who served the Emperor showed her respect, unlike before. San Qing, in particular, always answered Yingming's questions. Lowering his voice, he said, "Don't worry. This is a grand funeral, so His Majesty won't make things difficult for you. As for why the Master summoned you, we servants dare not speculate. Just go. Be mindful of your answers when the Master speaks to you. Manager De and I will be by your side, ready to help if needed."

Yingming nodded in agreement, thinking to herself that in just three days, when everyone arrived at Gonghua City and was occupied with their tasks, the emperor would have no time to seek out her trouble.

Looking ahead, she saw the central yellow-curtained tent in Huangman City surrounded by smaller ones. Bonfires were scattered, casting a grand scene. Following San Qing through the aisle lined with fire pits, Yingming noticed the imperial guards standing at attention like door gods. This grandeur was something she hadn't perceived in the palace, perhaps because she had never set foot in the Palace of Heavenly Purity. However, in this wilderness under the stars, the sense of pressure felt real.

She lowered her head, walking through the watchful eyes of others with her usual composed demeanor. The more solemn the situation, the more dignified she became.

The eunuch standing at the entrance lifted the hanging curtain, and she stepped in, stopping in front of a map made from tanned leather. The map served as a screen, separating the inner and outer spaces, yet its thinness allowed a glimpse of flickering candlelight and a vague figure seated behind it.

Instead of focusing on the emperor's summons, Yingming turned her attention to the map. She remembered there was a map of the kingdom in her father's study, but it was much smaller than this one. Studying it closely, she noticed fine lines outlining the endless mountains, the waves depicting the maritime borders, and the vast desert beyond the Jade Gate... She had never realized how vast the territory of Great Britain truly was.

San Qing went in to announce her arrival and soon returned, saying, "Miss, the master requests an audience."

Only then did Yingming lift her gaze, composing herself before entering the depths of the tent. She bowed deeply, saying, "This servant awaits the master's instructions."

The emperor behind the desk observed her quietly. She slightly lowered her head, having cooked a meal after a long day, and thankfully combed her hair before entering, avoiding the disheveled appearance she might have had huddled by the fire earlier. A woman should be like a flower in a vase, adding delicate charm to a man's mundane political life. Since she knew to tidy up before meeting the emperor, there was still hope for her.

But the lesson still needed to be taught; her previous embarrassment was truly unacceptable. The emperor asked, "Do you know what you did wrong today?"

Yingming admitted her fault, albeit reluctantly, with great sincerity, "This servant should not have taken it upon myself to dig a pit and set up a cooking pot outside."

The Emperor replied, "Remember your status, lest you bring shame to the Empress Dowager and also disgrace your father."

In fact, he had wanted to say that she should not disgrace him, since it was almost certain that she would be crowned as the new empress. In the future, if people were to talk about her, saying, "I've seen the Empress; she was the one cooking in the mud during the funeral procession," how would that look? His empress was not someone who could merely tend to the fire.

As for Yingming, she didn't think she could easily bring shame to the Empress Dowager. As for losing face, she had experienced it so many times that she was no longer afraid of it. Thinking this way, she believed she hadn't committed a grave mistake. People must learn from their mistakes, after all. From the roasted duck to the mutton dumplings, and then to the inkstone incident by the western wall, how many times had he taken advantage of her? She was also afraid that he might tamper with her food on the journey, and she wouldn't survive until they reached Gonghua City.

However, these thoughts were her own business and couldn't be brought up openly. If she angered the Emperor, he might angrily order her to stand at the flagpole, and she still cared about her dignity. It would not be a pleasant sight to have such a public humiliation.

"Yes, Your Majesty," she said respectfully. "Your servant has taken Your Majesty's teachings to heart. I had only good intentions but failed to think things through carefully, which is my fault."

Just like that day when she was pardoned from kneeling, De Lu was ordered to ask if she knew where she had gone wrong. Instead of using the excuse of avoiding the selection process, she had unexpectedly shifted the blame to sending the lotus leaf rice porridge, leaving everyone speechless. Today, she was doing it again, talking about having only good intentions towards her master? Her words sounded better than a song, but did she really expect him to believe that she had genuinely cooked the porridge for him?

The Emperor sneered. "Don't try to justify yourself. Don't think that I'm unaware of what you're thinking."

Yingming kept her head lowered and cautiously replied, "When Your servant entered the palace, I didn't dare to harbor any ulterior motives. Your servant's only thought was to serve the master wholeheartedly."

Her unexpected response left the Emperor momentarily stunned. He had intended to scold her harshly, but her statement about serving him wholeheartedly seemed like deliberate flattery. The Emperor began to seriously ponder how much truth there was behind her words.

San Qing, standing by, exchanged a glance with Little Fu, sensing that this time, they might have hit a sensitive spot. Little Fu blinked in agreement.

The emperor hesitated, furrowing his brow as he pondered, even attempting to discern her expression, hoping to find some evidence within it. However, she was fixated on her toes, concealing all her cunning and sophistication behind that single act of bowing her head. This made the emperor feel discontented once more. "Qi Yingming, are you very guilty? Why do you always keep your head down?"

Yingming discovered that this emperor was indeed hard to please. If she looked up, she was reprimanded for daring to gaze upon his imperial countenance; if she looked down, she was accused of having a guilty conscience. It seemed the only option was to look askance. The Grand Empress Dowager had once told her not to think of herself as mere servant stock; unlike those born into the bondservant class, Yingming was not one to willingly allow herself to be toyed with. Even clay figurines retained some semblance of their earthy nature, she thought. She replied, "Your Majesty, if this servant dares not take her eyes off you for fear of offending, how then am I to maintain propriety in Your presence?"

Her mastery of Tai Chi was exquisite, and she deftly parried his words. In truth, if she had spoken softly and tactfully as before, the Emperor was not an entirely unreasonable man. But by hiding her barbs within her gentle words, she had undermined his dignity, and that was a precarious situation to be in.

"I understand that your entry into the palace was out of necessity, thus your reluctance is evident, and you behave ambivalently towards me,"

Yingming understood now; this visit was deliberately aimed at sparring with her. She bowed and said humbly, "Your servant has never spoken in a two-faced manner before our master. It was the Empress Dowager who honored the Echiri clan by summoning me to the palace. I am more than willing to serve Her Majesty. I hope Your Majesty will see through my sincerity."

The emperor harrumphed again. "You're holding a grudge against me for serving you porridge today."

Yingming thought to herself that it wasn't just today – ever since she realized her injustice, she had been resenting him. However, she didn't dare to say it out loud, but his persistent questioning was starting to irritate her. So, she replied, "How could a lowly servant like me hold a grudge against His Majesty? My life and everything I have belong to you. A mere pot of porridge doesn't amount to much."

"The pickles too," the emperor added on her behalf.

Yingming nodded. "Yes, I forgot about the pickles. Thank you, Your Majesty, for reminding me."

The emperor was now certain: she had rebellious bones in her body and harbored resentment towards him. But he didn't find it particularly bothersome. After all, they both found each other displeasing, and hiding their true feelings was like scratching an itch through a boot – utterly unsatisfying. He exhaled softly, adopting a more relaxed demeanor. "To be honest, I don't particularly care for you either. If I so desire, I can bully you however I wish. I know you hate me to the core, but what can you do about it? Can you possibly devour me?"

Yet, she wasn't the slightest bit offended. Instead, she bowed respectfully and said, "Your Majesty, you're too kind. How could I possibly consume you? I'm a Muslim."