When Gao Dequan finished reading the final words—"So decreed"—he slowly rolled the imperial edict back into its original form.
The courtyard fell into an even deeper silence than before.
It was not merely quiet.
It was vacuum-like.
Everyone remained kneeling, heads bowed, as though the decree had struck them so hard that their minds had stopped functioning altogether. No one moved. No one spoke. Even the sound of breathing seemed to vanish.
Qing Tian was still prostrated on the ground, her forehead pressed firmly against the icy stone floor. The cold seeped through her skin and into her bones, spreading until her entire body felt numb.
The words of the edict echoed endlessly in her mind.
Each sentence was like a heavy hammer, striking again and again—leaving her unable to think, unable to comprehend.
Ennobled.Meiren.Granted a title.Allowed to keep a private kitchen.Permitted to enter the Imperial Kitchen.
It made no sense.
Then Gao Dequan spoke again, his voice breaking the silence. It carried the faint calm of someone who had witnessed countless rises and falls within palace walls—and within that calm, a nearly imperceptible hint.
"Meiren Qing," he said mildly, "why have you not yet received the decree and expressed your gratitude?"
That single title—
Meiren Qing—
Pierced the frozen air like a needle.
Qing Tian shuddered violently, as if jolted awake from a nightmare.
Her body moved stiffly as she lifted herself upright. Her hands trembled—partly from shock, partly from having clenched the cold stone for too long. She raised her head, looking first at Gao Dequan, then at the rolled imperial edict in his hands.
"…This consort, Qing Tian," she said, her voice hoarse and trembling, yet ringing clearly through the silent courtyard,"thanks His Majesty for boundless grace. Long live the Emperor. Long live. Long live forever."
She bowed deeply again.
This time, the sound of her forehead striking the ground was heavy and unmistakable.
Gao Dequan stepped forward and solemnly placed the rolled edict into her raised hands.
The silk was smooth. Cool.
And unbearably heavy.
Only when the imperial decree rested in her palms did reality finally crash down upon her.
This was not a dream.
She was truly a Meiren now.
A consort of the Emperor.
A mistress of the Inner Palace.
Clutching the decree, Qing Tian slowly rose to her feet. Her knees were weak from kneeling so long in the cold, but she forced herself to stand straight.
Her gaze swept across the courtyard.
Everyone was still kneeling.
Chief Steward Li was the first to move.
He stood up, his face pale and haggard, yet his eyes shone with a light so bright it was almost painful. Relief, disbelief, gratitude—and something far more complicated—flickered within them.
He stepped forward and bowed deeply to Qing Tian.
"Congratulations, Meiren Qing."
Those words were like a boulder thrown into a still lake.
The courtyard exploded.
The people kneeling seemed to awaken all at once, movements stiff and delayed. They lifted their heads and stared at the figure standing by the washing basin
A slim young woman still wearing rough cloth garments, water stains clinging to her sleeves, holding an imperial decree against her chest.
The emotions in their eyes were impossibly tangled.
Shock.Disbelief.Confusion.Fear.Jealousy.Envy.Calculation.
It was as if every possible reaction had spilled out at once.
"Congratulations, Meiren Qing!""Congratulations!""Congratulations, Meiren!"
The voices were uneven, hesitant at first, then gradually blending together.
No matter what they felt inside, everyone understood one thing—
From this moment on, they had to bow.
Wang Youcai and Matron Liu also stood.
Their faces were a sickly mix of pale and green.
Matron Liu's lips trembled uncontrollably. Wang Youcai's jaw was clenched so tight his face twitched. They bowed along with the others, voices dry and strained, never daring to meet Qing Tian's eyes.
Cold sweat trickled down their temples, glistening under the afternoon sun.
They knew it.
The sky had truly changed.
The kitchen maid they once trampled without thought had become someone they had to look up to—
Someone who could decide their fate.
And the clause allowing her continued access to the Imperial Kitchen?
That was a blade hanging directly above their heads.
Qing Tian looked at the familiar yet suddenly alien faces around her—former colleagues, superiors, even those who had once oppressed her.
She felt no triumph.
Only a deeper weight pressing down on her chest.
Her identity had changed.
She was no longer C17.
From this day forward, she was Meiren Qing-Shan Meiren.
She took a slow breath and hugged the decree tightly against her chest, as if drawing strength from it.
Then she spoke.
Her voice was far steadier now, though a faint tension still lingered beneath it.
"Rise."
Everyone obeyed at once, yet none dared relax.
Qing Tian's gaze moved slowly over them before stopping briefly on Chief Steward Li, Wang Youcai, and Matron Liu.
"This consort," she said evenly, "has been blessed by imperial grace. But my original heart remains unchanged."
"I came from the Imperial Kitchen. I know the hardships endured here."
"In the future, matters within the kitchen should proceed as usual. As they ought to be."
"If there are issues related to food and preparation that require discussion… this consort will do her utmost."
Her words were courteous.
Even humble.
But the phrase "this consort"—and the calm authority beneath her tone—drew an unmistakable line.
No one would ever treat her as a nameless kitchen maid again.
Chief Steward Li bowed deeply."Your Grace is too kind. This is a blessing for the entire Imperial Kitchen."
Wang Youcai and Matron Liu echoed him stiffly.
Gao Dequan then announced the Inner Court's arrangements—her residence at Tingyu Pavilion, the allocation of attendants, the distribution of stipends—before departing as swiftly as he had come.
He left behind a storm powerful enough to reshape countless destinies.
The courtyard fell into a strange, heavy quiet.
No one spoke.
All eyes drifted toward the lone figure standing by the basin.
Qing Tian did not linger.
She knew that from this moment on, she no longer belonged here—not as a servant.
She nodded once to Chief Steward Li, cast a final deep look at the place that had held her sweat, her tears, and the rare traces of warmth—
Then, holding the imperial decree close, she turned and walked out of the Imperial Kitchen.
Her back was slender.
But it was straight.