Chapter Sixty-One: The Four Royal Styles of Fried Rice (Part One)

Jiankang, Imperial City, Imperial Guard Drill Ground!

It was now the hour of Si.

Today marked the day of the Culinary Competition!

Following yesterday’s enthronement ceremony, two enormous platforms had been erected overnight in the drill ground, and a hundred red round tables were set.

Though the crowd was not vast, everyone present was a figure of great renown, the true giants of the era!

Not only were the heads of all the tribes under the State of Qi gathered, but at the grand hall’s entrance, every person lingered an extra day solely for this Imperial Culinary Competition.

Each tribe was eager to witness the level of Qi’s cuisine—how could it possibly be worthy of such a stage, to hold a cook-off in the royal drill ground itself?

But it wasn’t only the tribes of Qi present. To Ming Tian’s surprise, standing at the entrance along with Yu Nizi and Marquis Donghun Xiao Baojuan was Xiao Yaoguang himself!

“It seems there will be some unrest in this competition,” said Yin Chan, who entered with Ming Tian. “If Xiao Yaoguang is present, things may not go well for us.”

“Marquis Donghun is not yet under his control. So what if it’s unfavorable? All we need is an overwhelming victory!” Ming Tian cared little for Xiao Yaoguang’s presence, or for his schemes.

There was only one thing on Ming Tian’s mind!

Across from him, Qian Shanduo strode forward with confidence, accompanied by three gold-medal chefs and their team of some twenty more, heading for the northern platform.

Ming Tian’s own group—twenty-seven chefs from the Imperial Kitchen, himself, Yin Chan, and An Luo—made thirty men as well.

Today’s goal was singular: win the competition.

The reward did not matter to Ming Tian; he planned to distribute it all among the twenty-seven chefs after victory. His purpose was simple—two things only.

Win the competition, and prove that Qian Shanduo had been stealing dishes.

And then, to poison Marquis Donghun to death!

Both teams mounted the platform. Under the watchful gaze of the dignitaries filling the hundred tables below, Marquis Donghun, excited, crossed one leg and signaled to Xiao Yaoguang to declare the competition open.

Xiao Yaoguang glanced south at Ming Tian, a look of disdain flickering in his eyes.

Clearly, he knew of the Imperial Kitchen affair—Qian Shanduo was his man.

Xiao Yaoguang was a man obsessed with control; the Imperial Kitchen, responsible for the emperor’s meals, was a vital resource in his grip over the court. Ming Tian’s appearance had disrupted his careful plans, leaving Xiao Yaoguang thoroughly displeased.

But displeasure aside, when Xiao Baojuan ascended the throne, Xiao Yaoguang had thought he could manipulate him as he had Emperor Qi Ming. After all, Xiao Baojuan’s foolishness was notorious.

Yet Xiao Yaoguang had gravely underestimated him. Not only was Xiao Baojuan foolish, he was also stubborn and egocentric. He ignored both loyal advice and flattery alike. Any contradiction to his desires was a capital offense; in just three days, he had executed no fewer than ten high-ranking ministers, some of them Xiao Yaoguang’s closest allies, causing him great distress.

To make matters worse, two days ago, Xiao Baojuan unexpectedly elevated the obscure Lady Pan to Crown Princess, and now only listened to her. Upon his succession, Lady Pan became Empress, her influence swiftly eclipsing Xiao Yaoguang’s overnight.

Should Qian Shanduo be lost as well, Xiao Yaoguang’s position would be untenable!

For this reason, he had ordered the three other gold-medal chefs to assist Qian Shanduo, determined to seize victory, eliminate Ming Tian, and regain lost ground!

Yet Ming Tian was not ignorant of these schemes.

For the past two days, Wang Jingze’s spies had kept him fully informed of events around Xiao Baojuan—everything except the matter of Xiao Xinzhu.

“Gentlemen, the Imperial Culinary Competition has been decreed by His Majesty. It is a contest among the finest chefs of our Directorate of Imperial Cuisine,” Xiao Yaoguang stepped forward to announce.

“In this contest, we are to showcase the peerless cuisine of our great Qi. By imperial command, there are no restrictions on the dishes! Each side must present eight cold starters, sixteen main courses, three soups, and four desserts! Additionally, there must be one signature dish of their own choosing, for a total of thirty-two dishes. Failure to meet this will count as defeat!”

“Any team that fails will have its captain deemed derelict of duty, and shall be executed by thirty-two cuts! The victors shall receive ten thousand taels of silver, be ennobled as a Marquis of Ten Thousand Households, and be awarded the Golden Medal of Gastronomy!”

At these words, the assembly was thrown into an uproar.

Thirty-two cuts for the defeated? Though nothing compared to the maximum of 3,600 cuts, it was already near the harshest standard punishments, which rarely exceeded forty-eight.

Yet more than the execution, the victor’s reward drew every eye!

Ten thousand taels of silver and a marquisate—such prizes were reserved for those who had saved cities. And, astonishingly, the Golden Medal of Gastronomy was to be awarded as well.

It was well known that a chef possessing the Golden Medal of Gastronomy ranked equal to a first-class court official—its value could not be exchanged for a million taels of silver!

Everyone thought the emperor had gone mad!

In antiquity, chefs occupied a low status; even imperial cooks were but glorified servants. To set up a competition was already unrealistic, but for the newly enthroned Xiao Baojuan to offer such grand rewards on his second day in power, all for a cooking contest—it was no wonder he was famed for extravagance!

Ming Tian cared nothing for the rewards—but that Golden Medal of Gastronomy, he had to win!

He glanced down at the red-corded jade Buddha on his wrist, his resolve firmer than ever.

Uncle Zhao Ke had devoted his life to that medal. For no other reason than to honor him, Ming Tian had to claim it, to burn it as an offering and lay to rest the regrets beneath the Yellow Springs.

Zhao Ke deserved that tribute from Ming Tian!

Not only with the medal—but with the head of that man!

Ming Tian looked across the hundred meters to the platform where Qian Shanduo stood.

The fat wretch wore a mocking grin, staring back.

No doubt, in Qian Shanduo’s mind, the twenty-seven chefs Ming Tian led—men he had bullied for years—were nothing but useless rabble.

Qian Shanduo, I will offer your head to Zhao Ke!

“That concludes the rules of this contest. The match will last two hours. Does anyone object?” Xiao Yaoguang swept his gaze across the crowd. Seeing none, he glanced back at Xiao Baojuan.

But Xiao Baojuan was presently, in full view of all, fondling Lady Pan, who, for her part, played the empress to perfection, indulging his every whim and leaving him completely devoid of regal dignity.

Shaking his head in resignation, Xiao Yaoguang raised his hand and shouted,

“Let the contest begin!”

The gong sounded.

The Imperial Culinary Competition—the battle for Ming Tian’s revenge—had formally begun.