In the spring of the twelfth year of Zhenning, Yang Wan attempted something she would never have done in the 21st century – cooking.
However, it turned into such a disaster that even the ailing Consort Ning was alarmed enough to personally visit the inner kitchen.
The inner kitchen of Chenggian Palace was outside the rear hall, only two rooms wide.
Yang Wan sat on the threshold of the outer room, hands resting on her knees, silently staring at scattered garlic peels on the ground.
Heyu accompanied Consort Ning as she approached, hurriedly rolling up her sleeves to lead people into the inner room.
Yang Wan looked up to see Consort Ning standing before her, laughing at the complaints and commotion of the palace servants inside.
Yang Wan pressed her lips together, “Your Grace.”
Hearing the dejection in her voice, Consort Ning lowered her head and said, “I heard from Heyu that Lady Jiang drove you out?”
Yang Wan didn’t speak, only nodded in response.
Consort Ning stopped laughing, gathered her robes to crouch down, and looked into her eyes, “What’s wrong, Wan’er?”
Yang Wan pinched her cut finger, “Nothing, Your Grace.”
Consort Ning observed her expression, “Has Lady Jiang upset you?”
Yang Wan shook her head, “How would I dare feel that way?”
Consort Ning didn’t press further, and took out her handkerchief to wipe the ash from Yang Wan’s face, “Just come back to sister’s place, no one will scold you here.”
“Your Grace’s place has been thrown into chaos because of me. While others might not say it to my face, they’ll surely curse behind my back about my presumption in relying on Your Grace’s favor.”
She helped Consort Ning stand up, “Actually, I’m fine. It’s just that these past few days, my heart… has been unsettled.”
Consort Ning noticed the wound on her hand and quickly called for someone to bring a lamp closer, “How did you cut so deep?”
Yang Wan raised her hand to look, laughing self-deprecatingly, “I should consider myself skilled for not cutting it clean off.”
Consort Ning interrupted her: “What nonsense are you speaking?”
Yang Wan gave an embarrassed smile.
“Yes, this servant acknowledges her error.”
Seeing her unusual demeanor, Consort Ning gently held her wrist and lowered her voice, “Wan’er, is your heart unsettled because you’re thinking about Deputy Supervisor Deng’s situation?”
Yang Wan didn’t deny it.
“You can’t keep dwelling on it like this.”
Yang Wan lowered her eyes and nodded, “This servant understands. Please go rest, Your Grace. This servant will go help Heyu.”
Consort Ning held her back, “With you in such a state, how could sister rest? Yi Lang has woken up and is crying about being hungry.”
She led her toward the inner kitchen, “Come, follow sister.”
The founding emperor of the Ming Dynasty came from humble origins, and his wife valued simplicity. Though she was empress, she often mended clothes and cooked herself. The Ming palace later inherited this tradition, with consorts occasionally doing needlework and cooking when they had free time.
Consort Ning led Yang Wan into the inner kitchen, removed the bracelet from her wrist to give to Heyu, and rolled up her sleeves to wash her hands.
The warm firelight from the stove illuminated her face, highlighting her porcelain-like skin.
She looked up at Yang Wan and said, “Let me teach you how to make a bowl of yangchun noodles. When people return weary from their travels, what they want most is a steaming hot bowl of noodle soup.”
Returning weary from travels.
These words reminded Yang Wan of Deng Ying’s usual grey robes, making her throat tighten.
“Wan’er.”
“This servant is here.”
“When you were at home before, you were too young, and your sister never taught you. Today we can make up for that. The most important thing about cooking is to be mindful. While cooking, don’t think about anything else – when the water should boil, let it boil; when the vegetables should soften, let them soften; don’t skimp on the lard, and use enough sauce.”
Perhaps it was the steam from the pot, but as Yang Wan listened to Consort Ning’s voice, her eyes grew moist.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace. This servant knows you mean well. You’re still ill, yet you have to worry about this servant’s messy affairs.”
The water in the pot gradually began to boil.
Consort Ning dropped in the noodles, “Sister doesn’t know what you’re thinking. Though you’re only eighteen, your understanding of people and situations far surpasses your sister’s. Sometimes, sister feels like you don’t seem to care much about anything, except of course,”
She smiled and turned to look at Yang Wan, “Deputy Supervisor Deng’s matters.”
Yang Wan remained silent for a while as the steam gradually blurred her vision, gently enveloping Consort Ning’s slight frame.
Perhaps to Yang Wan, these people had emerged from century-old historical documents, and so the better they were, the more they gave the illusion of being as fragile as paper.
“Your Grace, you are truly the perceptive one. Sometimes this servant doesn’t even know what she’s thinking, but you understand. Your single phrase about ‘people returning weary from their travels’ has unknotted many of the tangles in this servant’s heart these past few days.”
Consort Ning smiled, “Then why won’t you call me sister?”
Yang Wan froze.
Yang An’s sensitivity wasn’t sharp, but rather warm.
When she opened her mouth, her eyes suddenly reddened.
“I…”
Yang Wan couldn’t continue.