Chapter 412: Emperor Jiajing Sends Another Note

Among the many clusters of buildings in the Western Garden, there was one complex that could not be ignored. Approaching it, one could catch a tantalizing aroma that made the mouth water instantly.

This was the Imperial Kitchen.

The Jiajing Emperor spent his nights and days practicing immortality and refining elixirs. Yet, despite bestowing upon himself one grandiose, impossible-to-pronounce immortal title after another, there was not a trace of true immortality in his mortal frame. The human emperor, after all, could not survive on wind and dew alone. He needed his three meals a day, making the Imperial Kitchen one of the most crucial departments of the Western Garden.

Originally, the Imperial Kitchen had been located in the southeast of the Forbidden City. According to the I Ching, the southeast corresponds to fire—wood generates fire, and the kitchen, being fire-associated, naturally belonged there. However, when the Jiajing Emperor moved into the secluded Western Garden, the Imperial Kitchen moved with him, settling in the southeast corner of this new retreat.

The kitchen in the Western Garden was primarily dedicated to serving the Emperor. The most exquisite delicacies in the entire realm were born here. Though it existed solely for the Emperor’s needs, its scale was impressive. The complex consisted of a grand hall with over thirty rooms. Twenty or so master chefs worked inside, commanding the stoves and preparing dishes of unparalleled quality. Another fifty assistant cooks handled the basic but essential tasks: washing vegetables, chopping meat, kneading dough, and preparing ingredients. Additionally, thirty laborers carried out heavy work—fetching water, lifting baskets, and transporting ingredients. Beyond these, more than eighty eunuchs from the Imperial Food Service ensured that the chefs’ creations reached the Emperor, managing everything from serving dishes to maintaining order in the kitchen. The chefs themselves were forbidden from wandering the Western Garden, leaving these duties entirely to the eunuchs.

Despite the scale, the Jiajing Emperor was surprisingly frugal when it came to food. Compared with predecessors like the Zhengde Emperor, the kitchen operated with over a hundred fewer staff members. And in comparison to later Qing emperors, it was even more modest. Compared with Empress Dowager Cixi, whose banquets could feature over a hundred dishes in a single meal, the Jiajing Emperor’s diet could easily be described as simple.

By now, the midday sun reflected off the glazed tiles of the Imperial Kitchen, scattering prismatic colors across the courtyard.

Two eunuchs from the Imperial Food Service stood at the kitchen’s entrance, their anxious eyes scanning the distance. Each clutched a Buddhist whisk, pacing back and forth, their delicate sighs rising and falling like waves. They had been waiting here for over an hour, yet the young eunuch sent to deliver the meal list had not returned. They had already dispatched two more to inquire, only to receive the reply that they must continue to wait.

“The Emperor hasn’t eaten for two meals already. What if his body suffers from hunger?” muttered the shorter eunuch, walking in restless circles.

“Exactly. My heart is in knots. Could it be that someone in the kitchen made a mistake?” his companion fretted, worry creasing his face.

“Don’t jinx it with such talk,” the shorter eunuch scolded, waving his whisk as if to brush away bad luck. “He praised us for last night’s meal. Nothing went wrong then.”

“Yes, yes. Master Liu is right,” the other eunuch said quickly, nodding, his tension slightly eased.

Their anxiety was understandable. Apart from Emperors Hongwu and Yongle, the Jiajing Emperor was known as the strictest ruler when it came to eunuchs. He held them in low regard, believing their proper role was no more than cleaning toilets. Any misstep could bring severe punishment, with corporal punishment considered mild in comparison.

Just then, Master Chef Liu emerged from the kitchen, bowing respectfully to the two waiting eunuchs.

“Master Liu,” one eunuch said anxiously, “we are more desperate than you are. Today is no ordinary day. The Emperor has missed two meals. We must confirm the menu before preparing it. If it displeases His Majesty, our punishment will be minor—but if he grows weak from hunger, it will be disastrous!”

“The Emperor has been fasting and abstaining from meat for half a month. It’s time to prepare something nourishing, with some meat included,” Liu replied calmly.

“We understand, Master Liu, but the menu hasn’t been returned yet. Perhaps you should start preparing according to the draft menu we submitted?” suggested the eunuch after a moment’s thought.

“It seems that’s the only choice,” Liu nodded, about to return inside and begin preparations.

At that moment, the other eunuch’s voice rang out with excitement. “Quick! Look! Little Dezi is back!”

Little Dezi, the young eunuch sent to deliver the menu, came running, breathless yet triumphant, as if returning from a great victory. He handed the meal list reverently to the two eunuchs waiting at the door.

The eunuchs hurriedly examined it, their expressions turning puzzled.

Seeing the menu, Master Chef Liu understood why. The returned menu bore no resemblance to the one they had submitted. Not a single dish was the same.

Braised bamboo shoots with pork, steamed fish head, braised eggplant, oil-braised chicken, fish-flavored shredded pork, marinated chicken drumsticks, steamed crab (without salt), sweet-and-sour fish, spicy chicken wings…

The more Liu looked, the stranger it seemed. Many of these dishes were unorthodox, hardly befitting the grandeur of the Emperor’s table. Why had His Majesty suddenly desired these particular dishes?

Still, at least the mystery of what to prepare had been solved.

Liu hurried back to the kitchen with the new menu, passing it to the other chefs. Instantly, the Imperial Kitchen sprang into action. The chefs, masters of their craft, transformed the ingredients into dishes bursting with color, aroma, and flavor, one after another.

The menu contained nine dishes in total. For ordinary people, nine dishes would be considered a feast; for an emperor, it was still modest. To enrich the Emperor’s meal further, the chefs added six more dishes, bringing the total to fifteen, all served promptly by the eunuchs to the Jiajing Emperor’s palace.

Meanwhile, as Zhu Ping’an was organizing the tenth bookshelf, Zhang Siwei arrived again, announcing that the Emperor had sent another note. Curious, Zhu Ping’an set aside his books and followed Zhang Siwei to the hall of the Hanlin Academy.

This time, the note was delivered by a young yellow-robed eunuch, Feng Bao, a familiar face, rather than the morning’s messenger, Huang Jin. Understandably, Huang Jin was a favored courtier and newly in charge of the Eastern Depot—he had no time for errands.

Entering the hall, Zhu Ping’an felt the strange tension in the air. The Hanlin scholars all watched him intently.

“Master Zhu, this is from His Majesty,” Feng Bao said, unfolding the tiny note.

For me?

No wonder the atmosphere felt so peculiar—all eyes were on him. This time, the Emperor had sent the note specifically for him. As a newcomer, receiving a personal message from the Jiajing Emperor was extraordinary indeed. Curiosity surged within Zhu Ping’an.

“Your servant receives the edict,” he said, kneeling to take the note.

Opening it, he read the contents and couldn’t help but smile wryly. The Emperor’s message contained only a simple line:

“Sweet-and-sour fish goes best with rice.”