It was another night that stretched deep into the small hours.
Inside Yangxin Hall, the candles still burned bright. Tang Yi rubbed his aching eyes and finally set down the vermilion brush. Beside the towering stack of memorials lay a small plate of newly delivered snacks from the Office of Imperial Provisions—a bowl of walnut congee Qing Sweet had sent over. Fresh walnuts were finely ground, simmered with glutinous rice and a touch of rock sugar. Smooth, warming, meant to calm the mind and nourish the brain.
He lifted the white porcelain bowl, scooped a spoonful, and tasted it.
The mellow richness of walnuts blended seamlessly with the gentle sweetness of rice. Warmth slid down into his stomach, quietly dispelling the chill of the night and the fatigue pressing against his temples.
His thoughts drifted to the report delivered earlier by the shadow guards—updates on the pilot programs of the new Office. There were still frictions, still resistance, but the Basic Nutrition Meals had undeniably steadied morale in the trial courtyards. The ingredient traceability system had already exposed two corrupt buyers. And among the first batch of certified junior kitchen workers, several genuinely promising talents had emerged—more attentive, more capable, more alive in their work.
Once again, she had done it.
Not with grand speeches or force, but by changing the soil itself, grain by grain.
Before he realized it, his steps had carried him toward Listening Rain Pavilion.
Gao Dequan followed silently, long accustomed to these unannounced turns.
The small kitchen was still lit.
Pushing open the half-closed door, Tang Yi saw Qing Sweet standing at the stove with her back to him. She wore simple working clothes, sleeves rolled up, carefully stirring a pale yellow powder into a steaming pot. The long wooden ladle moved in slow, steady circles. A faint herbal fragrance—slightly bitter, fresh like forest leaves after rain—filled the air.
"Testing a new recipe again?" Tang Yi asked naturally as he came to stand behind her.
This time, Qing Sweet wasn't startled. She simply turned slightly and gave a small, respectful bow."Your Majesty. It's an old formula Granny Chen shared—calming herbs mixed with toasted coarse rice flour, cooked into a thick paste. I was thinking of trying it for palace servants who suffer insomnia or anxiety. Gentler than medicine, and filling as well."
Tang Yi looked at the pot, now thickening into a warm, comforting consistency. He nodded."You think things through." After a pause, he added, "The Office of Provisions has been doing well."
Her stirring slowed for just a moment. She looked up at him, a brief spark lighting her eyes, then lowered them again."It's thanks to Your Majesty's support—and to Deputy Director Li, Deputy Director Zhang, and everyone working together. I wouldn't dare take the credit. There are still many things to refine."
"No need for false modesty." Tang Yi moved to the small table where she often read and leaned against it."In your proposal, you wrote, 'Let those who live here live like people.' I've thought about that—many times."
His gaze drifted toward the heavy darkness beyond the window."There are too many cold eyes in this palace. Too much indifference. For you to insist on doing this… it isn't easy."
Warmth spread quietly through Qing Sweet's chest."I only did what I believed was right," she said softly. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she continued,"And… I know Your Majesty bears the weight of the realm. You manage countless affairs each day. In your heart, you also wish for this palace to have less intrigue and more life. If what I do can ease even a little of that burden—then it is my good fortune."
Those words struck true.
At the highest seat in the world, Tang Yi was also one of the loneliest people within these walls. Qing Sweet's understanding was not just in a perfectly timed bowl of soup—but in her grasp of his unspoken wish: that beneath the grand ambitions of rulership lay a quieter concern for human lives, often buried under necessity and scale.
"You understand," he said gently."The road ahead is long. Take it step by step. If you encounter difficulties, report them to me."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
Qing Sweet ladled out a small bowl of the calming paste and offered it to him."Would you like to try some? It was made for the servants, but the formula is mild. You've been overworked—it may help settle your spirit."
Tang Yi accepted it and took a spoonful.
The taste carried a hint of bitterness from the herbs, grounded by the deep comfort of grain. Not delicious, but strangely centering. He finished the bowl slowly and set it down.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Only the soft crackle of the stove filled the room.
A quiet understanding flowed between them—unspoken, effortless.
I know you need a bowl of food in the dead of night.I know the weight on your shoulders.I know you're doing something difficult—and right.I know you understand my loneliness, and my hope.
That was enough.
In this cold, vast palace, they were ruler and subject, late-night "food companions," allies in reform—and among the few who truly saw one another's solitude and resolve.
Outside, the night grew deeper.
Inside the small kitchen, the lamplight remained warm and steady.
A new chapter had begun. The road ahead was still long—but with this light, and this mutual understanding, there was strength enough to keep going… and to illuminate many more dark corners yet.