“I look forward to what you have to present to us.” Even while sitting, the voice of the princess carries over the hall, with the confidence of one who knows she will be listened to. “The competition will commence this evening in the Courtyard of Promising Future. As the Ascending Emperor once said, farmers are the backbone of the country, and our food sustains the soul. Each of you will be assigned a dish from your province. I would like you to brew a tea that is the perfect accompaniment to your dish.
“But—” Those lips curve into a smile. “We endeavor to make each test as fair as possible. All of you will receive three silver yuan and two hours in the market to purchase your teas and additives. Those found to have spent more than the allotted amount or who do not return in time will be disqualified.”
Grumbles run through the crowd, no doubt from those with the money to purchase the more expensive teas that could have gained a foothold over others.
“The first test will be open to the public, so all can witness the beauty of the art of Shénnóng.” Her keen gaze sweeps over us, and the underlying message is clear: I trust you will not disappoint me.
The princess stands to take her leave. She is regal, poised, intimidating, older than her nineteen years.
“Glory to the princess!” one of the heralds calls out, his voice ringing down the length of the hall like a gong.
“Glory to the princess!” Those seated raise their cups in a salute. Those of us who are standing kneel and bow instead, touching our foreheads to the ground, remaining so until she leaves the room.
The competition has begun.
CHAPTER FIVE
We are led directly to the kitchens to begin preparations at once. Steward Yang is a stern-faced woman, with her dark, gray-threaded hair pulled back into a severe bun. She examines our group with an unimpressed sniffle.
“The imperial kitchens have served princes and high officials from faraway lands.” She waves two servants over, each holding a basket filled with red tokens. “Do not embarrass the products of my kitchen.”
One after another, tokens are pulled out, each carved with our name and the dish we are to complement. Eager hands dart forward to receive them.
My dish is sticky rice dumpling—a simple peasant’s dish and one of my favorites. Glutinous rice stuffed with peanuts, wrapped in bamboo leaves, and steamed. It is something farmers can carry around with them for lunch, tied to their sashes with string.
“Rice cake?” Lian scoffs as she shows me her token. “How typical.”
“Do you have an issue with your assignment?” The steward descends on us menacingly, and Lian squeaks out a negative. The two of us scurry away before she can exact her punishment.
Outside the entrance to the kitchens, Lian starts listing an assortment of regional cuisines the kitchens could have picked from Kallah, and it’s enough to make my stomach growl. Fish cooked in a spicy and sour sauce, sweet milk batter grilled on a stick, duck with honey rubbed all over its skin and roasted to a golden brown.
She must have sounded passionate enough that even the guard standing by the door chimes in: “I prefer pòsū myself. Fried crispy, filled with ham and sugar.” He closes his eyes, like he’s savoring the taste of it in his mind. “Sounds like home.”
Lian looks delighted. “I thought I’d met all the people from Kallah in the palace.”
The young man beams back, flashing white teeth. “I only transferred here a few months ago.”
“It’s nice to meet you, brother.” Lian touches her hand to her chest and bows. The guard bows in turn, mirroring her stance.
The sound of the mid-hour gong ripples through the air, reminding us of the urgency of our task. With a quick goodbye to Lian’s new acquaintance, we hurry to catch up with the other competitors.
The city opens to us when we are let out of the palace. Lian navigates through the street confidently, braid swinging, and I follow. We end up in a market when she finally slows her brisk walk.
I take in the lively energy around me, to invigorate myself for the trial ahead. Ladies sashay by with long flowing dresses, their servants following closely behind, carrying their purchases. We pass by fabric shops, with beautiful bolts of silk and cotton lined up for sale. I furtively touch a few of the fabrics, just to experience the luxurious feel of them against my skin, so different from the homespun materials I am used to. Another narrow street seems to contain only small shops with an assortment of inks and brushes for calligraphy and painting. A part of me longs to stare at them for a while, to take in the sweeping curves and assertive strokes on the scrolls or the landscapes with the wisps of cloud on top of sharp peaks, the boats made of bamboo sailing serenely by.