They crept from bush to bush. Linyue kept low, but He Yuying sniffed the air like a bloodhound who had graduated top of his class.
They snuck past flower gardens, rows of neat trees, trimmed hedges, and even a large pond that sparkled under the moonlight. Very quietly. Very sneakily. Very ridiculously.
Linyue whispered, "Are you sure you're not just smelling the fish in that pond?"
He Yuying shook his head. "Of course not. How can we eat that fish?"
Linyue blinked. "Uh. Grilled? Fried? Steamed with ginger? It's imperial fish, you know."
He Yuying sniffed again. "No. We're getting better things."
"Of course," she muttered. "Like prison food. Delicious."
"Shush," he hissed. "I can smell it. We're getting close."
Linyue glanced around. Close to what? Arrest? Embarrassment?
They weren't even crouching anymore. They were full-on worming under a flowering bush. A sneaky little branch almost poked her eye, while the flowers assaulted her nose—one more sniff, and she'd sneeze so hard she'd blast them both across the garden.
Somewhere nearby, the unmistakable shout of guards broke through the night air.
"They must be hiding somewhere! Their last known position was the west wing. Send more people to search there!"
Then came the sound of marching boots, loud and too close. The garden fell quiet. The air froze.
He Yuying, instead of panicking, slowly raised his head through the bush.
Linyue watched him. "You'll get your head chopped off."
He Yuying whispered, "Then I'll haunt the kitchen. Forever."
She sighed, dragging him down by the collar as more footsteps passed. This was it. This was how legends were born. Two idiots, one bush, and a dream of buns.
Linyue muttered under her breath, "This wasn't on the plan."
He Yuying, the philosopher of nonsense, replied, "Plans are meant to be abandoned anyway. Improvisation is the real cultivation path."
Of course it was.
Once the footsteps of patrolling guards faded into the distance, He Yuying crouched and zipped to the nearest stone pillar like a sneaky and slightly dramatic shadow. Linyue sighed and followed, pressing herself behind the next pillar like this was some kind of ridiculous game of hide and seek.
Ahead of them stretched a long, very expensive-looking corridor—polished floors, carved beams, golden lanterns hanging. And at the end? A building with many carved doors, each looking like they led to treasure, trouble, or both.
He Yuying whispered, "The kitchen is usually in the back corner. We just follow this corridor."
Linyue exhaled. "Sure. Maybe we'll find the kitchen miraculously. Or the imperial slaughterhouse, luckily."
But he was already moving pillar to pillar. She had no choice but to follow, moving gracefully and regretfully behind him.
"This isn't why we cultivate," she muttered as she ducked under a window.
He Yuying didn't even look back. "It came as a bonus."
Of course. Enlightenment, sword mastery, and midnight snack hunting. What a well-rounded path to immortality.
Somewhere behind them, someone yelled "Check the roof!" and He Yuying whispered, "Good. We're on the ground."
Eventually, they reached the end of the corridor and pressed themselves against the wall.
Linyue peeked around the corner. "Two people."
He Yuying peeked too. "Carrying… something. Is that… a steaming tray?"
Two palace servants walked past, suspiciously slow for people in the middle of palace-wide chaos. One of them held a tray piled high with shiny, glorious buns. Steam curled upward from it.
He Yuying's eyes lit up. "We're close."
Linyue muttered. "Yes. To hell."
He Yuying was already sneaking after them, half-crouched. Linyue sighed and followed, resigned to her fate as an accomplice in culinary crime.
The two servants never noticed. They were too busy whisper-arguing about whether it was morally acceptable to "sample just one" bun before they reached the delivery point.
He Yuying whispered, "Are they stealing buns too?"
Linyue said flatly, "Apparently we're not alone in this spiritual path of gluttony."
And then they saw it.
The Imperial Kitchen.
Warm light glowed through the slatted windows. The smell—heaven. Steamed buns, roasted duck, fried tofu, stir-fried cabbage with garlic and soy.
He Yuying's breath caught. His eyes shimmered. A tear may or may not have fallen.
"This," he whispered, "is why we cultivate."
Right at that moment, the kitchen door creaked open.
A junior cook stepped out with an empty bucket, yawned dramatically, then turned the corner.
Opportunity. A brief, shining window. A once-in-a-lifetime chance to steal dinner, or supper.
Without a word, He Yuying slipped through the open kitchen door. Linyue stared at the open door, then followed. Quietly. Regretfully. Reluctantly.
Inside, huge woks, cleavers, bamboo baskets stacked to the ceiling. Most of the workers were gone—probably sleeping, hiding or helping with the chaos outside.
He Yuying stood frozen for a second, overwhelmed by choice.
Then he grabbed two buns. Then three. Then something wrapped in lotus leaves.
Linyue strolled in behind him and grabbed a scallion pancake. "You have one minute," she said flatly, already chewing.
"Bless you," he mumbled, already stuffing one bun into his mouth. He pulled a pristine white silk cloth from his robes, clearly prepared for this exact emergency, and began packing with expert efficiency.
"Take some dumplings and pies too," Linyue added, pointing at a tray.
He Yuying gave a serious nod. "Got you."
And so, under the noses of an entire imperial guard, a fake princess and her snack-obsessed guard looted the most heavily guarded kitchen in the realm for buns. And dumplings. And pies. And other things.
Glorious. Stupid. Legendary.
Just like everything else they did.
Linyue chewed thoughtfully, a flaky pastry in one hand, steam still rising from it. Between bites, she muttered, "Brother Zhenyu will definitely have a lot to say about this."
He Yuying, now carrying a suspiciously full bundle of stolen snacks, shrugged. "Can we tell him we found it in the secret passage?"
Linyue gave him a flat look. "Will anyone believe that nonsense?"
He nodded solemnly. "If we say it with enough confidence."
She sighed. "What does he like to eat again? Maybe we can bribe him with pastry."
He Yuying paused. "He's not picky. He eats anything as long as it doesn't smell suspicious."
"Well," Linyue sniffed the pie in her hand. "This smells amazing. So it's clearly safe."
"Exactly," He Yuying nodded. "If it smells good, it can't be a crime."
Linyue chuckled, brushing crumbs off her sleeve. "Quick. We have to go back before someone notices."
"Just a moment," He Yuying whispered, crouched beside a table. "They left the sweet cakes. That's a sin."
Then came the footsteps.
Linyue and He Yuying froze mid-bite. They looked at each other.
No words. Just panic. Silent, synchronized panic.
He Yuying quickly bundled the rest of the food into the silk cloth and tied it into a neat little knot like he was packing a baby. A snack baby.
Meanwhile, Linyue walked over to the window, pushed it open, and jumped over without so much as a dramatic pause.
He Yuying followed a second later with a soft grunt, landing beside her.
Behind them, voices echoed from the kitchen.
"Huh? Is the food… missing?"
A second voice chimed in, "Maybe it was the servants. They steal the leftovers all the time."
A beat of silence. Then the first voice said, "Leave them be. There's a lot of food left from the banquet anyway. Why don't we eat some too?"
Outside He Yuying gave a solemn nod of respect. "Great decision. They are truly enlightened."
Linyue sighed. "Let's move."
They ducked behind the building and continued their secret escape. The imperial palace at night was not forgiving. Guards patrolled with lanterns, their footsteps sharp on the stone ground.
Linyue and He Yuying crept along the walls, glancing left and right. When needed, they crouched low. When spotted, they leapt to the rooftops.
It was ridiculous. It was absurd.
It was… kind of fun.