25
Wanqing returned to the Empress Dowager’s quarters and saw that Her Majesty was slowly having her maids uncover the plates.
“Empress Dowager…” She noticed that the plate opened by the maid beside her was the one Zhao Zhong had brought in. She wondered why Zhao Zhong, who had just entered the palace, would come to serve pastries to the Empress Dowager. Watching as the Empress Dowager glanced at the pastries, her expression calm but still reaching for one from the plate he had presented, Wanqing followed inside and let out a soft exclamation.
Her call interrupted the Empress Dowager’s motion to pick up the pastry.
“Qing’er, weren’t you supposed to leave the palace with Chen’er? Why have you come back? Did you forget something? Ah, well…”
The Empress Dowager looked up at Wanqing’s entrance, her face breaking into the same kindly smile as before. She questioned Wanqing’s sudden return with a light chuckle, as if trying to guess the reason herself.
“I… I just remembered yesterday’s medicine. It must have been very bitter for you, Your Majesty. I thought of adding another ingredient—not only to ease the bitterness but also to further benefit your health…”
Faced with the Empress Dowager’s inquiry and her gentle smile, Wanqing responded with a faint smile of her own.
“Oh? Bring the prescription here, then. Add it as you see fit.”
Hearing this, the Empress Dowager immediately instructed her maid to fetch the prescription. After just two days of Wanqing’s acupuncture treatments—each lasting over an hour—she already felt much lighter, and last night she had slept soundly. Recalling how countless imperial physicians had failed to cure her chronic ailment, yet this girl had effortlessly granted her peaceful rest, she readily agreed.
“Done. From now on, follow this prescription. Not only will it help Her Majesty sleep and eat well, easing her headaches and improving her condition, but it will also rejuvenate her spirit and enhance her beauty. These pastries look exquisite, by the way.”
After making slight adjustments to two ingredients, Wanqing handed the prescription to the maid beside the Empress Dowager and gave her instructions. Watching the maid nod and tuck the prescription away, she then turned her gaze to the pastries on the nearby table with a light chuckle.
“Indeed, they do look refined. But no matter how exquisite something is, eating it every day would make anyone weary. This osmanthus cake was a favorite of the late Noble Consort Ning, the mother of the Prince of Ning. She used to make it for me often. Though the imperial kitchen has tried replicating it over the years, they’ve never quite captured her touch. Still, it’s passable. Here, child, try a piece and tell me how today’s batch fares.”
At Wanqing’s remark, the Empress Dowager turned her attention to the pastries, her expression weary. Gazing at the osmanthus cake on the plate Zhao Zhong had brought, her eyes filled with nostalgia. She picked up a piece and handed it to Wanqing before taking one for herself.
“Alright…”
Seeing the depth of emotion in the Empress Dowager’s expression toward her late mother—though she didn’t know how her mother had died—Wanqing felt an indescribable warmth. Despite suspecting something amiss with the pastry, she accepted it.
Watching the Empress Dowager take a bite first, Wanqing followed suit. Detecting no poison, she exhaled in relief.
“It’s delicious—melts in the mouth with a lingering fragrance. This is the first time I’ve tasted such exquisite osmanthus cake.”
Assured of its safety, Wanqing savored the pastry and shared her thoughts with the Empress Dowager.
But then she noticed the old woman’s expression shift oddly after the first bite. Pausing, the Empress Dowager took another, tears welling in her eyes. Alarmed, Wanqing asked,
“Your Majesty, what’s wrong?”
“I… I’m just overwhelmed. Sixteen years… This taste is so familiar, just like the ones Noble Consort Hui used to make for me. I remember the Emperor once learned from her and made them for me too. But after her passing, he never did so again. This… it’s so much like hers. Yet, though the pastries remain, those I cherished have all left me one by one.”
At Wanqing’s urgent question, the Empress Dowager took another bite, her eyes brimming with emotion—more joy than sorrow—though tears still clung to her lashes. Her voice choked as she spoke around the pastry, her smile bittersweet as she swallowed and took yet another bite.
“I don’t want the rest. Pack them up for Qing’er to take back and enjoy. And find out who made these pastries today—I wish to reward them handsomely.”
The Empress Dowager, rarely indulging so, ate three pieces of the osmanthus cake, savoring the long-lost flavor. Watching as her maid packed the remaining pastries—excluding the osmanthus cakes—into a box for Wanqing, she beamed with rare delight and issued her command.
The head maid bowed and hurried off to the imperial kitchens to locate the pastry chef.
Soon, she returned with a plump, middle-aged man dressed as a cook, who knelt upon entering.
“This humble servant greets Her Majesty. May the Empress Dowager enjoy eternal peace.”
“Rise. Did you make today’s osmanthus cakes?” The Empress Dowager gestured to the remaining pastries, her smile faint.
“I… The pastries for Your Majesty have always been my responsibility, but the patterns on these osmanthus cakes… they don’t seem to be mine…”
The man studied the cakes—only three left out of eight—and the Empress Dowager’s unusual appetite. Puzzled, he noticed the unfamiliar designs and answered truthfully despite his confusion.
“Not yours? But these were clearly brought here. Could someone have tampered with them in the palace? Go and prepare another batch identical to these at once.”
The Empress Dowager frowned, perplexed by his denial despite her intention to reward him.
“Perhaps the chef simply forgot, Your Majesty. Those we’ve lost… I hope you can find peace. The Prince of Ning is waiting outside, so I shall take my leave.”
Wanqing, though suspicious of the sudden twist, guessed Zhao Zhong might have altered the pastries. How else would he procure cakes resembling those made by Noble Consort Hui and the Emperor?
This coincidence only strengthened her belief that Zhao Zhong shared a deep connection with her mother. Otherwise, how would he know the exact taste the Empress Dowager longed for? But who had made them, and what was their tie to her mother?
Assured of the Empress Dowager’s well-being, Wanqing smiled gently and pleaded on the chef’s behalf before excusing herself.
“Very well. Qing’er, visit more often with Chen’er. I’ve grown truly fond of you, child.”
The Empress Dowager nodded, her affection undisguised, and watched with a soft smile as Wanqing left with the box of pastries.
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