The splendor and frenzy of the Grand Sacrificial Banquet faded like an exhausting dream. When the final palace lantern was extinguished, the dream ended at last.
For nearly two months, the Imperial Kitchen had been strung taut like a bow. Now, at last, the tension snapped loose. Many collapsed from sheer exhaustion—but in their eyes shone something they had never known before: a deep, bone-weary fulfillment mixed with pride.
They had done it.They had carried an impossibly complex, unforgiving task to completion—and done so brilliantly.
Yet beneath that calm and glory, a darker current surged forward, gathering speed, preparing to bring certain people and long-simmering matters to a definitive end.
Less than ten days after the ceremonies concluded, a single imperial decree thundered out of the Yangxin Hall and shook the court to its core:
Vice Minister of Revenue Liu Chenghan, found complicit in the massive embezzlement of frontier military provisions, guilty of corruption and dereliction of duty, with irrefutable evidence—hereby stripped of all offices, property confiscated, and handed over to the Three Judicial Offices for strict punishment in accordance with the law!
The decree struck the capital like a bolt of thunder in late autumn.
Liu Chenghan—the birth brother of Consort Liu, one of the Liu clan's main pillars at court—had been taken down with ruthless speed, just days after the grand ceremonies ended, when everything had seemed calm and settled.
Anyone with eyes could see the truth.
"Discovered after the ceremonies" was merely a courtesy—a final fig leaf. The Emperor's dissatisfaction with the Liu clan had been brewing for a long time. His earlier "we'll look into it further" had never been leniency, but bait—drawing the snake out to gather proof.
And Liu Chenghan, scrambling during the preparations to insert his people and skim benefits, had only hastened his own destruction.
When the tree fell, the monkeys scattered.
The moment Liu Chenghan collapsed, officials who once clung to him hastily cut ties. The Liu clan's power at court crumbled overnight, and the backlash swept straight into the inner palace.
Changchun Palace, once the most bustling and ostentatious residence, turned cold almost overnight. Courtiers stopped coming to pay respects. Even the palace servants walked with careful steps, eager to distance themselves.
Where once crowds had gathered, now only fallen leaves stirred in the autumn wind.
When Consort Liu received news of her brother's imprisonment and the confiscation of their family's assets, rage and shock overwhelmed her. She spat a mouthful of blood and collapsed on the spot.
After waking, she seemed hollowed out. The former radiance drained from her face, replaced by ashen pallor. At times she muttered to herself; at others she fell into hysterical fits. The imperial physicians diagnosed her condition as "heart fire erupting from grief, severe depletion of vitality."
The Emperor did not immediately strike her down.
Perhaps he remembered old affection.Perhaps a fallen, gravely ill consort no longer posed a threat.
An edict followed:
Consort Liu's health is unstable. She is to be relocated to Jingsi Pavilion in the far western palaces for quiet recuperation. Without imperial summons, she is not to leave, nor is anyone to disturb her.
"Rest and recuperation" in name—exile and soft confinement in truth.
Jingsi Pavilion was cold, remote, and nearly abandoned, no different from a cold palace. Thus ended the days of unrivaled favor and unchecked arrogance—washed away like dust in the depths of the inner court.
The blade hanging overhead had finally been removed.
When the news reached the Imperial Kitchen and the soon-to-be-established Office of Imperial Provisions, Qing Sweet was reviewing post-ceremony reward lists with Director Li and Chef Zhang.
Director Li let out a long breath, as if shedding a weight of a thousand catties. Chef Zhang fell silent for a long moment, then murmured softly, "Heaven is fair."
Qing Sweet felt a complicated swirl of emotions.
The malice and schemes of Consort Liu had once pushed her and her master to the brink. Now that her enemy had fallen, she felt little triumph—only a quiet sense of impermanence.
In this palace, towers rose one day and collapsed the next. Such was the norm.
What mattered was survival—and doing the right thing while one still could.
She set aside her reflections. With the greatest external obstacle removed, this was the perfect moment to move forward with the plan she had long carried in her heart.
Before she could seek the Emperor—
He came to her.
That night, once again, Qing Sweet sat beneath the lamplight in the small kitchen of Tingyu Pavilion, writing furiously. This time, it was no self-defense memorial, but the final revision of a proposal she had shaped for months—a plan concerning the entire palace's food system and the survival of its lowest servants.
Papers filled the table, ink still drying.
The door opened softly. Familiar footsteps approached.
She did not look up. "Your Majesty, please wait a moment. I'll be done shortly."
Over the months, she had grown used to these quiet, unannounced visits—so used to them that she could almost read his mood from the rhythm of his steps.
Tang Yi stopped behind her, saying nothing. He watched her focused profile, then scanned the pages filled with dense yet orderly writing.
When she finished the final stroke, Qing Sweet blew gently on the ink, stacked the manuscript, and turned. Kneeling, she offered it with both hands.
"Your Majesty. This is my completed proposal for establishing the Office of Imperial Provisions and reforming the palace's food and welfare system. I ask for your review."
Tang Yi accepted the thick document and read by lamplight, page by page, slowly. His brows furrowed and relaxed in turns, fingers tapping unconsciously against the table.
The proposal was far more comprehensive than he had expected.
It detailed not only the structure and authority of a new institution—the Office of Imperial Provisions—but a complete, human-centered welfare system:
Clear nutritional standards based on rank and labor intensity.Full traceability from procurement to waste disposal.Medical dietary records for consorts and servants alike.Formalized training academies with promotion paths.Improved housing, injury relief funds, retirement placement for aging servants…
It wasn't just about food.
It was about dignity, safety, and hope—for those long forgotten behind palace walls.
Tang Yi closed the final page and remained silent for a long time. Lamplight flickered in his deep eyes.
He had grown up in the coldest and most exalted palace in the realm. He knew these hardships—but had rarely paused to truly face them. Too often, such suffering was dismissed as "necessary cost."
Her proposal cut through that darkness like a warm, stubborn light.
"What you want to do," he finally said, voice low, "goes far beyond fixing the Imperial Kitchen or feeding a few servants."
Qing Sweet lifted her head, meeting his gaze—clear, steady, unflinching.
"Yes, Your Majesty," she replied softly but firmly. "These palace walls are high and cold. That is order. That is tradition. I understand. But human hearts should not be as cold as stone."
She paused, then continued earnestly:
"The grain and meat we handle every day nourish not just nobles—but thousands of living people. They have parents, attachments. They grow tired. They fall ill. They age. They feel fear."
"I ask for little. Only that those who live here—no matter their rank—may live like people. A warm meal after labor. Care when injured or sick. A future for those with talent. That should not be a luxury."
Her words were simple, idealistic—perhaps even dangerous.
Yet they burned with sincerity.
Tang Yi watched her quietly—the woman who had begun with a single bowl of truth and had never stopped surprising him since.
At last, he nodded.
"Approved."
Two words—heavier than mountains.
Qing Sweet's heart nearly stopped.
"Effective immediately," Tang Yi declared, imperial authority ringing clear, "the Office of Imperial Provisions is established under the Internal Affairs Department. It shall oversee all palace food systems and related welfare measures."
"I appoint you, Qing Sweet, as its first Director—ranked Third Grade, retaining your consort status. Li Dehai and Chef Zhang shall serve as deputies. Pilot these reforms in the Imperial Kitchen and nearby palaces first. Expand once results are proven. Resources will be fully supported."
Joy, relief, and crushing responsibility flooded her all at once.
Qing Sweet knelt deeply, forehead to the floor.
"This subject accepts the decree with gratitude. I will give everything I have—and fail neither Your Majesty nor this trust."
In that moment, she knew—
A new era had truly begun.