"Is it so strange for a subject to invite His Majesty for a simple meal?"
Lin Wanyi asked with a serene smile. "The Dragon Boat Festival is fast approaching. While Your Majesty is accustomed to the grand palace banquets held each year, have you ever experienced the kind of humble family feast the common folk enjoy during this time?"
Her words piqued Emperor Yuwen Hong's curiosity at once.
He followed her into the inner chamber, picking up a sachet laid neatly on the table."This too—is it something the commoners use?" he asked, half in jest.
"Your Majesty jests," Lin Wanyi replied gently. "This was sent earlier today by the Noble Consort. She said they were to be distributed throughout the palace."
She picked up a bundle of colorful silk threads and began skillfully weaving them into a ruyi knot wrist cord, elegant and intricate in its design.
"When I was at home, my mother would make these cords for us before the festival. My father, elder brother, and younger brother—we all wore them. Then, on the twenty-fourth day of the sixth lunar month, we would burn them in a brazier, hoping to usher in peace and safety for the year ahead."
"Oh? The twenty-fourth of the sixth month? What festival is that?"
"It's celebrated by the Yi people in the southwest, near Shuzhou. They say it marks their lunar New Year. For three days, they light bonfires and celebrate with torchlight dances. My maternal grandfather once observed their customs and brought the tradition home to our family."
"Your grandfather was a man of insight."
Lin Wanyi smiled softly, tying the finished cord around her wrist. It was more refined than an ordinary charm—thoughtfully crafted, yet subtle.
Watching her graceful movements, the emperor raised a brow."And I don't get one?"
She laughed lightly."Your Majesty must be teasing. These charms are meant to bring peace and joy to ordinary households. But as the Son of Heaven, Your Majesty is already blessed with long life and divine favor—no such tokens are needed."
The emperor chuckled, her delicate flattery not lost on him.
"I used to think you were rather quiet," he said. "Now I see your tongue is as sharp as it is clever."
Lin Wanyi dipped a cloth into a copper basin, wrung it out, and offered it to him. Then she brought over a cup of rinsing water.
"Please rest a moment, Your Majesty. I shall have the dishes served."
"Very well."
With the emperor's consent, Qiu Ming signaled the attendants to bring in the food—everything had been prepared in advance.
From the imperial kitchens came stir-fried river eel, green glutinous rice dumplings filled with sweet red bean paste, and a warm three-bean soup.
Chunqi's offerings were far simpler: a plate of salted duck eggs and several mugwort pastries. Though unassuming, they intrigued the emperor.
He glanced at Lin Wanyi in puzzlement. She answered with a soft, warm laugh and explained.
"Your Majesty is familiar with the usual Dragon Boat Festival traditions—zongzi, hanging calamus leaves, drinking realgar wine. But among the common people, there's also a custom of eating salted duck eggs and mugwort pastries. These are prepared well in advance."
"The duck eggs are cured beforehand, then simply steamed and quartered. They're best served with plain rice—the finest ones will even release golden oil. Here, this one is quite good."
She placed a glistening wedge onto a white porcelain plate and set it before him.
"And these pastries are made by kneading mugwort juice into flour. I had Chunqi add lard and sugar, then prepare them using the technique for layered flaky buns. They have a crisp, multi-layered texture—Your Majesty should try one."
She broke one in half and offered it to him as well.
These dishes were new to the emperor, and curiosity compelled him to taste them.
The flavors were surprising—earthy, subtle, and deeply satisfying. Before he realized it, he had eaten nearly half the plate.
"The food of the common people... it carries a purity. While it's born of necessity and practicality, there's a quiet reverence behind it."
"Reverence?" Lin Wanyi echoed. "What do you mean by that?"
"The Dragon Boat Festival was created to honor Qu Yuan. River journeys, dragon boat races, symbolic zongzi, and festive gatherings have endured through the ages. For the common folk, it isn't merely a celebration—it's remembrance. By stripping away excess, they return to the heart of the tradition."
Stripping away excess... returning to the essence.
Those words stirred something in the emperor. He had once heard them spoken of by the late Empress Xu.
She had been the beloved eldest granddaughter of the Duke of Xu, nurtured with care, known for her virtue, elegance, and frugality.
During her time, the inner palace was guided by principles of simplicity and restraint.
She had aimed to set a moral example for the empire, to never lose sight of one's origins.
But after her passing, court affairs of the inner palace had fallen to the Noble Consort.
Since then, festival preparations had shifted—never excessively lavish, but certainly elaborate and time-consuming.
The Noble Consort had silenced critics by claiming it was necessary to uphold the dignity of the imperial household.
Gradually, the entire palace had grown accustomed to this more extravagant way of doing things.
Yet now, with just a few thoughtful, unassuming words, Lin Wanyi had unintentionally awakened something long dormant in his heart.
The emperor cast a long, thoughtful look at Lin Wanyi. She remained as calm and composed as ever, her serenity undisturbed. Despite himself, the corners of his lips lifted into a faint smile.
"If the common folk understand the meaning of reverence," he said, "then I, as the ruler of this realm, ought to lead by example."
Though his words were not spoken in full, the meaning was clear, and the burden weighing on Lin Wanyi's heart finally eased.
With the emperor setting such a tone, it was unlikely anyone would dare flaunt extravagance during the Dragon Boat Festival banquet. Naturally, the opulent Five Poisons round fan sent by the Noble Consort would no longer be suitable for display.
Realizing this, a sincere smile bloomed on her face.
Her attendants, emboldened by her expression, served the dishes with greater care. The emperor, in turn, dined with visible contentment.
It was a long-held rule of the ancestors that emperors did not stay the night in the quarters of concubines. And Lin Wanyi, still recovering from her injuries, was in no condition to attend to him, regardless.
So after the meal, they sat and conversed for a while before the emperor took his leave.
Only when his figure disappeared down the corridor did Lin Wanyi exhale deeply. Supported by Xia An and Chunqi, she returned to the inner chamber.
Behind her, Qiu Ming followed in silence, his steps steady, his gaze shadowed with deeper contemplation.
No wonder both his mentor and the chief steward of the inner court had placed their faith in her. At last, he understood—she bore an uncanny resemblance to someone from the past.
Memories of the late Empress Xu drifted to the surface. Though her face and voice had long faded in clarity, her gentle nature and calm, dignified smile remained etched in Qiu Ming's mind.
Lin Wanyi, unaware of how she had struck the right chord by sheer instinct, felt only that she had somehow weathered another storm. The tension in her heart began to ease.
Softly, almost wistfully, she murmured to herself,"If only I could see my brother again."
It had been over a month since she entered the palace. She had neither seen him nor dared to send a message, fearful of drawing unwanted trouble to her family—or herself.
But now, the thought of seeing her brother openly, without fear, gave her a flicker of anticipation for the upcoming dragon boat races.
"Little mistress, you must focus on your recovery," Xia An urged. "If the young master sees you limping, won't he worry?"
"Don't fret," Lin Wanyi replied with a faint smile. "He'll be on one of the dragon boats—at least a dozen zhang away. As long as I don't walk too quickly, he won't notice."
She smiled, but the expression carried a trace of quiet sorrow.