Even after his retirement, Chief Steward Li never truly left the place where he had spent most of his life.
Much like Master Zhang, he was often invited back by Qing Sweet—sometimes under the excuse of "consulting old precedents," sometimes as an advisor on thorny matters. Other times, it was simply the Office of Imperial Provisions sending over freshly made pastries or seasonal dishes to his quiet retirement residence beyond the palace walls.
That winter, when the year's first snow fell, Chief Steward Li once again returned to the palace.
He walked along the palace road, carefully cleared of snow yet still biting cold. On either side rose the towering vermilion walls, their rigid outlines traced in white. Everything looked exactly the same as it had decades ago, when he first entered the palace—solemn, orderly, and cold to the bone.
And yet—
When he turned a corner and saw what lay ahead, his steps halted.
A neat line of young eunuchs—clearly new to the palace, their faces still soft with youth—was exiting the distribution hall of the Office of Imperial Provisions. Each wore a thick, brand-new indigo cotton coat, the collars and cuffs padded with clean white cotton, more than enough to keep out the winter chill.
In their hands, each carried a tightly woven rattan food basket. Wisps of white steam curled up from the lids.
The line was quiet, broken only by low whispers.
One of the boys sniffed the air drifting from his basket and murmured excitedly,"Smells amazing… Is it radish-braised lamb today? And white rice too!"
Another nodded, equally soft-spoken."We're really lucky. Auntie Wang, who brought me in, said that when she first entered the palace, during the coldest days, she'd be grateful just to get a coarse bun that didn't break her teeth. Hot meals? Meat? She wouldn't even dare dream of it."
The first boy blinked."Auntie Wang also said that here, in the Office of Imperial Provisions, as long as you work hard and don't slack off, you'll eat your fill and stay warm. If you make a mistake, there are clear rules and punishments—but if you're wronged, or feel something's unfair, you can even go to that Petition Office to speak up…"
He hesitated, then added quietly,"Listening to her… the palace doesn't seem that terrifying anymore."
The second boy thought for a moment, then nodded earnestly."Yeah. This place… it kind of feels like what Auntie Wang said—like it has… warmth. Like it has a human touch."
A human touch.
Those three simple words drifted into Chief Steward Li's ears like falling snow—light, unassuming—yet they struck his long-stilled heart like a stone dropped into a deep well, sending ripples spreading again and again.
He stood where he was, watching the two boys walk away with their steaming baskets, white breath puffing in the air as they headed toward the lower eunuchs' quarters. Snowflakes settled on their young shoulders, only to melt almost instantly against the warmth of their cotton coats.
What rose from those baskets wasn't just the steam of food.
It was the warmth of hope.
The deep lines etched into Chief Steward Li's face by years of palace rules and silent endurance slowly eased. Like ice thawing under a spring breeze, they softened, little by little, until they formed a calm, deeply contented smile—one almost gentle.
That smile held memories. Reflection. Release. And above all, a profound satisfaction—of seeing the seeds he had once protected with his life finally break through the frozen ground and grow strong.
He did not continue forward.
Instead, he slowly turned around. His gaze seemed to pass through layer upon layer of palace walls and halls, settling unerringly on a distant palace deep within the inner court—the residence of Consort Chen, Director of the Office of Imperial Provisions.
That palace was not grand. If anything, it was almost plain.
But he knew—The small kitchen there was always lit with warm firelight.The study was forever steeped in a comforting blend of ink and gentle sweetness.And its mistress possessed hands that could read human hearts—and kindle warmth within them.
Most of all, she carried a heart that had never grown cold.A heart that believed, unwaveringly:
When people are fed, their hearts no longer ache.
And that, he knew, was the truest warmth of all.