Chapter Forty-Three: Hotpot

Lin Miao-miao actually did feel a craving for hotpot. She had been searching for suitable ingredients, but the options in Daankou were limited. The basic spices like Sichuan pepper and star anise were available, so she bought pork and beef bones to begin simmering a broth. Truth be told, Lin Miao-miao wasn’t particularly skilled at cooking.

However, she had spent so much time in her department preparing food for testing—ensuring it was safe to eat—that her culinary skills had been honed through countless failures before finally achieving success. In her small courtyard, Lin Miao-miao tended to her bone broth, thinking longingly of the hotpot base she used to buy in supermarkets in the modern world—those blocks of spicy soup concentrate.

She remembered using that base to make all sorts of delicious things: hotpot, spicy skewers, oden… She had always made the most of it. Here, she ground the peppercorns, star anise, and dried chilies into chili powder, experimenting repeatedly until she finally settled on a recipe for the base.

Outside, Anqi and the others were tormented by the pungent, spicy aroma wafting through the air, feeling as if they were about to go crazy from the stinging sensation in their noses.

When Li Yanhe returned, he saw Lin Miao-miao directing people to move tables. It was the first day of the new year, and he assumed she was preparing dumplings. To his surprise, she set up a pot over charcoal; the broth inside was bubbling away, and the meat slices Anqi had prepared were thin and delicate, no different from the lamb slices she used to buy at modern supermarkets.

Li Yanhe looked at Lin Miao-miao and said, “Aren’t we supposed to eat dumplings for the New Year?”

Lin Miao-miao glanced at him and replied, “We have dumplings every year. This year, let’s try something new.”

She stood before him, hands behind her back like a little adult, dressed in festive red for the holiday. Lin Miao-miao hadn’t mastered the traditional hairstyles of ancient times and found the elaborate buns a hassle, so she simply wore two round buns tied with red ribbons, which gave her an air of youthful charm and innocence. Li Yanhe’s heart melted at the sight. With a sigh, he said, “All right, I’ll try your new creation.”

The group made no distinction between master and servant as they sat together, lively and cheerful, sharing the meal. The two children, Lin Langluan and Lin Langze, were well-behaved, quietly eating their food without making a fuss.

Although Lin Miao-miao had traveled here from the modern world, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of loneliness during the New Year, her loved ones still far away in her original time.

After the meal, Li Yanhe returned to the study. There, he and Lin Miao-miao kept each other company—he busied himself with work, while she practiced calligraphy with a brush.

Recently, Lin Miao-miao had asked Dan to teach her brushwork. Back in her own world, she had been highly educated, after all. Yet, here in the ancient era, she could barely write, and even if she could, she would have to use a stick dipped in ink to do so. Lin Miao-miao wasn’t a scientist and realized she was unlikely to invent the legendary fountain pen.

She had once thought she could devise a Western-style pen, plucking many goose feathers for her experiments, but all attempts had ended in failure. In the end, she decided it was better to simply practice calligraphy when she had spare time—there weren’t that many characters to master in this era, after all.

With frequent practice, she figured she’d eventually develop a decent hand. Even if her writing wasn’t beautiful, at least she wouldn’t be making any errors.

Li Yanhe finally finished his work. Suddenly, he remembered that his informant had told him the day before that Lin Miao-miao had met the Third Prince, Li Tai’an.

He looked up and asked, “Did you meet the Third today?”

Lin Miao-miao nodded and replied, “You mean the Third Prince?”

“Yes,” Li Yanhe responded. As she continued writing, Lin Miao-miao chatted with him, “Meeting the Third Prince was quite the surprise. As the saying goes, a dragon has nine sons, each one different.”

“The Third Prince, Li Tai’an, struck me as the epitome of a refined gentleman, while you seem more like a general with an iron will.”

Li Yanhe shook his head. “That’s only on the surface. The Third isn’t just a gentle, poetry-reciting scholar.”

Lin Miao-miao smiled but said nothing. She looked up at Li Yanhe and said, “It makes no difference. He won’t do anything to me. I’m just an insignificant girl with no power.”

“If he ever did want to harm you, he’d treat me well so that if people accused him of killing you, he’d have me as an alibi, a witness to his innocence.”

After she spoke, Li Yanhe frowned, gazing at her. “I just don’t want you to get dragged into these matters because of me.”

Lin Miao-miao replied, “Whether you want it or not, I’m already involved. Your struggles will inevitably pull me in as well.”

She sighed. “All I ever wanted was to earn a bit of money, open my own dessert shop, and live a life of comfort—good food, good drink, and peace. I never harbored great ambitions; I just wanted to be an ordinary, unremarkable person.”

Li Yanhe fell silent at her words, then, after a long while, embraced her. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault for getting you involved.”

Lin Miao-miao broke into a wide smile. “I should thank you for bringing me here. Otherwise, my life would’ve ended before it even began.”

Li Yanhe sighed, feeling a pang of sorrow for the young girl in his arms—such a little child, yet burdened with so many worries.

He patted her head. “If you wish, I can send you to the capital and have my mother raise you.”

But before he could finish, Lin Miao-miao covered his mouth. “There’s no need. I’m living quite well here. Aside from the cold, the north is perfectly fine. There’s no need to feel guilty. You’ve already done more than enough.”

Li Yanhe fixed his deep, dark eyes on Lin Miao-miao for a long while before saying, “When you speak like this, it makes me feel as if you’re not a child at all.”

He seemed to realize his words were off. Lin Miao-miao patted his head and teased, “Hey, could you stop patting my head? I’m not that bright to begin with—if you knock me silly, you’ll have to take care of me.”

“I’ll take care of you.” The low, hoarse voice sounded in her ear, making Lin Miao-miao’s heart race and her cheeks flush.

She glanced at Li Yanhe, then retreated to her own room. It was only while bathing that night that she realized: she truly was inhabiting the body of a little girl! Suddenly, she felt utterly wretched—over twenty years old in spirit, yet trapped in the body of a seven-year-old girl.

Li Yanhe watched her departing figure, smiling and shaking his head, saying nothing. Yet there was a different light in his eyes.

He picked up a letter and held it over the candle flame. Soon, the fire consumed it—this was a family letter sent to him by Noble Consort Xianrou, Yuan Chuxia.

This year's harvest had been good, and Emperor Yongchang was pleased. During the New Year, he planned to bestow rewards upon the Six Palaces. In recent years, the border wars had been frequent and the national treasury depleted. For many years now, Emperor Yongchang had not held any grand celebrations, ordering the palace concubines to live frugally in order to save resources and support the soldiers at the front.

Emperor Yongchang sat on the dragon throne as the courtiers offered their congratulations. By his side sat the current Noble Consort, Yuan Chuxia. The women seated below her all smiled with practiced grace, but the jealousy in their eyes was unmistakable.

After the death of the previous empress, Emperor Yongchang had not named a new one, instead elevating the Noble Consort to preside over the Six Palaces. Naturally, many believed that Noble Consort Xianrou, Yuan Chuxia, would be the next empress.

Emperor Yongchang turned to look at his sons, his mood especially good today. He said, “The Fourth is no longer young; it’s time for you to take a post in one of the Six Ministries. After the New Year, you’ll report to the Ministry of Personnel.”

The Fourth Prince, Li Deren, immediately stepped forward from his seat, knelt, and said, “Yes, Father. I shall not fail you.”

The Crown Prince, Li Hanwen, was in good spirits. He picked up his cup, sipped his tea, and cast a glance at the Seventh Prince, Li Yankang, and the Ninth Prince, Li Yonghe, seated not far away.

Emperor Yongchang then addressed the Fifth Prince, Li Anping. “The Fifth is also old enough to hold office. After the New Year, you’ll report to the Ministry of Rites.”

Li Anping rose from his seat, knelt, and expressed his gratitude. “Thank you for Your Majesty’s great kindness.”

The Fifth Prince, Li Anping, was disabled. By the customs of Dayong, a prince with such a condition was ineligible to contend for the throne. No matter how fierce the power struggles became, the Fifth Prince’s domain remained an oasis of calm. His mother was of humble birth, and with his disability, he was never a concern to anyone.

Emperor Yongchang glanced at the Seventh and Ninth Princes, lifting his wine cup, and with a smile said to Noble Consort Xianrou, Yuan Chuxia, “The princes are all growing up. In another year, the Seventh and Ninth will also be old enough to serve in the ministries. As our children grow, so do we age.”

Noble Consort Xianrou returned a graceful smile. The Virtuous Consort, mother of the Seventh Prince and one of the four favored consorts, replied, “Your Majesty, how could you say you are old?”