Chapter Fifty-Four: Exposing Qian Shanduo (Part One)

Zhaoke’s hometown happened to be Boh County, right on the border between Qi and Wei—the very birthplace of multigrain pancakes! For a chef of Zhaoke’s caliber, he could easily craft the finest multigrain pancakes even with his eyes closed.

Ming Tian felt as if fortune had finally smiled upon him; with the recipe for multigrain pancakes in hand, his roast duck would attain its highest form.

In theory, after mixing the batter for multigrain pancakes, it should be left overnight for a preliminary fermentation to achieve the perfect flavor. But pressed for time, and knowing that the difference in taste was negligible, Ming Tian considered the omission of this step a minor flaw that wouldn’t affect the overall outcome.

He prepared the batter and began baking the multigrain pancakes on a clay plate, entrusting the slicing of the roast duck to Zhaoke, whose knife skills were second to none.

At last, the Imperial Capital Roast Duck was complete.

Zhaoke’s knife work was unparalleled—he arranged the sliced duck in the shape of a dragon emerging from the water, using coriander and chives to create the illusion of a lake. It looked for all the world like a dragon rising from the depths! Ming Tian’s delicate multigrain pancakes were stacked neatly atop the dragon’s head, resembling a blazing sun rising above it.

The presentation was exquisite beyond compare.

Yet Ming Tian had made a subtle adjustment to the dish. Beneath the dragon, a leaf of cabbage was laid, and under that, a slip of paper inscribed with: “This dish was made by Ming Tian.”

Of course, he knew this act was essentially pointless, but it was an integral part of his plan.

“Yesterday a phoenix, today a dragon?”

“A dragon rising from the water to greet the sun—what an evocative scene!”

“No, the key is the aroma—do you smell it?”

“Yes! To think a duck could produce such fragrance—it’s simply unheard of.”

The other chefs, having finished their own dishes, hurried over to admire Ming Tian’s roast duck. They clicked their tongues in wonder, their eyes shining with envy. Were this dish not destined for the Crown Prince, they’d likely have rushed forward to snatch it for themselves.

Just like chicken, duck was classified as a vegetarian dish back then—this was the first year of Yongtai during the Southern and Northern Dynasties, and this categorization persisted until the late Tang dynasty. As for why? Who could say! I only know because Yin Chan mentioned it. There was no Baidu in those days, so where would I even look it up? Flip through books? Sure, that was an option, but the palace library was larger than the British Museum. It would take three to five years just to browse everything, and who knows if the answer would even be there. Whoever wants to read that much can go ahead—count me out!

In any case, as the third quarter of the hour of the Dragon approached, the familiar cry announcing the presentation of dishes to the Imperial Table rang out, mirroring yesterday’s scene.

This time, however, Qian Shanduo acted even more brazenly. In front of all the chefs, he swapped Ming Tian’s nameplate for his own, and replaced Ming Tian’s magnificent dish with a bowl of indeterminate, pitch-black soup he’d made himself.

Such a flagrant switch was nothing short of open provocation!

The nearby steward of the Imperial Table saw everything, yet remained indifferent, allowing Qian Shanduo to make the exchange unchallenged.

Ming Tian had expected the fat tyrant to pull such a stunt, but he hadn’t anticipated it would be done so openly.

“What are you staring at?” Qian Shanduo barked at Ming Tian, his mismatched eyes bulging—one wide, the other squinting to a slit. Jabbing a finger at Ming Tian’s nose, he cursed, “What’s your problem? Not happy? Don’t think I don’t know! You and Zhaoke are plotting against me!”

He bellowed and slapped a piece of paper onto the worktable. It was none other than the slip Ming Tian had hidden under the roast duck, bearing the words: “This dish was made by Ming Tian.”

The entire room was thrown into an uproar! As the palace maid carrying the dish left, a deathly silence settled over the kitchen.

The nearby chefs instinctively edged away from Ming Tian—not because he’d done anything wrong, but out of fear. Qian Shanduo had ruled the kitchen for nearly a decade, and Ming Tian’s defiance risked dragging anyone associated with him into the tyrant’s wrath.

That piece of paper was, in their eyes, an act of utter recklessness!

Yet Ming Tian smiled.

His plan had succeeded.

The slip of paper was a mere decoy. Who would seriously try to slip a note into a dish served to the Crown Prince? If, by some unlikely chance, Qian Shanduo had failed to discover the note, Ming Tian would have had a real problem—after all, the Crown Prince was Xiao Baojuan, a notorious tyrant who cared nothing for kitchen politics and would not hesitate to execute anyone who dared offend the royal family.

The true purpose of the note was to ensure Qian Shanduo found it.

Now that his plan had worked, Ming Tian couldn’t help but smile.

“What are you grinning at?” Qian Shanduo, unnerved by Ming Tian’s reaction, grew even more belligerent. He grabbed a ladle and strode over, swinging it at Ming Tian’s head. “Trying to set me up? You must be tired of living!”

Everyone in the kitchen knew just how much it hurt to be struck by Qian Shanduo’s ladle. This time, he swung with such force it seemed the ladle itself would break. The other chefs, who had come to respect Ming Tian for his recent performance, couldn’t bear to watch—surely that delicate face wouldn’t survive such a blow.

But then…

A sharp, ringing slap resounded through the kitchen—so loud it was heard in the adjacent pantry!

The chefs turned, stunned. Ming Tian, right there before everyone, had slapped Qian Shanduo across the face with a backhand so forceful that the hefty tyrant was knocked sideways.

Qian Shanduo stood frozen, ladle raised but unmoved, as if petrified. After ruling the kitchen with an iron fist for years, he had never imagined someone would dare defy him—let alone strike him.

Ming Tian withdrew his hand, wincing as he rubbed his reddened knuckles. “Fatso, with a face that ugly, you really shouldn’t squeal like a stuck pig.”

“You…” Qian Shanduo glared murderously, the veins on his forehead bulging with rage. “You little wretch, you’ve got a death wish!”

“Death wish? Are you joking?” For once, Ming Tian made no effort to disguise his contempt, his voice cold and fierce. “Don’t think finding that note means anything. You like stealing other people’s dishes? Fine—today, I’ll let you steal. Today, I’ll see you die because of it!”

At these words, Qian Shanduo’s anger turned to fear. His mismatched eyes darted nervously as he wondered what he might have missed—was there something else hidden in the dish?

“You… what do you mean? Was the dish poisoned?” His voice shook. “No… that can’t be. If it were poisoned, it would never pass the eunuchs’ inspection. You… you’re bluffing!”

“Bluffing? I never bluff.”

Ming Tian’s own words sounded unconvincing even to himself, but his cold eyes radiated deadly intent.

“Fatso, you know the rules. Today is a busy day—everything is being tallied, and the Crown Prince’s household is in chaos. The meal will definitely be delayed!”

…

All right, the second update is done. Time to shower and get to work. As usual, another update tonight.