The imperial kitchens were in an uproar. Never before had the Son of Heaven descended into their smoky, steam-filled domain, peering into pots and pinching powders between his fingers with a critical frown. The head chef, a man whose authority was second only to the emperor's within these walls, was on the verge of a nervous collapse.
"It's all wrong," Zhu Haolang muttered, poking the gritty cocoa sludge with a disdainful finger. "The roasting is uneven. The grinding is pathetic. It's like drinking sweetened dirt."
He had commandeered a corner of the kitchen, which now resembled a bizarre alchemist's lab rather than a place of culinary art. A team of the palace's most ingenious metalworkers and millwrights stood awkwardly alongside terrified pastry chefs, all watching the emperor sketch furiously on a slate.
"We need a controlled, rotating drum for roasting. Not an open pan," he instructed the metalworkers. "And this," he pointed to the primitive stone mortar and pestle, "is a joke. I need a mill. A proper mill. With granite rollers. The goal is a powder so fine it feels like silk."
The artisans, initially baffled, began to catch the emperor's vision. A challenge was a challenge, whether it was for a new crossbow or a new confection. Nods replaced confusion. They dispersed, shouting orders for specific types of stone and metal.
Next, he turned to the chefs. "The fat. There's too much of it. It's oily and unpleasant." He remembered the process of conching and tempering, but explaining the crystalline structure of cocoa butter was beyond even his lazy patience. "We need to press the grated beans. Squeeze out this oily substance. Separate it."
"And then… we put it back in?" asked the head chef, utterly lost.
"Some of it. Later. In a very specific way. It's about snap and gloss," the emperor said, as if that explained everything. He saw their blank stares and sighed. "Just get me the pressed cakes and the collected fat. And find me some of those vanilla pods the Portuguese brought. And the chili peppers from the southern provinces. And milk. Fresh, warm milk."
For days, the Jade Dew Pavilion was neglected. The Lazy Emperor was nowhere to be found, his divan empty. The court buzzed. Some whispered he had finally lost his mind to the barbarian brew. Minister Liu, now buried under requests to verify the safety of "food-pressing mechanisms," dared to hope.
But in the kitchen, a miracle was taking place.
The new roasting drum produced beans with a deep, rich aroma, not a hint of burn. The granite-roller mill created a powder of unprecedented fineness. The pressing mechanism, a clever screw-press design, separated the cocoa butter, which was collected in gleaming jars, from the solid cakes, which were then ground again into an even richer, darker powder.
Zhu Haolang, his simple linen robe dusted with cocoa, oversaw the final steps himself. He gently heated the precious cocoa butter, mixing it back into the powder with sugar and a pinch of chili. He poured the glossy, molten mixture onto a chilled marble slab and worked it with a spatula, back and forth, in a motion that seemed both pointless and hypnotic.
Finally, he prepared two cups. In one, he whisked the fine powder with hot milk and a scraped vanilla bean. In the other, he allowed the tempered chocolate to set into a thin, hard bar.
He summoned Minister Wang and Eunuch Xi. "Taste."
Minister Wang sipped the drink. His eyes widened. It was smooth, rich, deeply chocolatey with a complex hint of vanilla and a faint, warm afterglow from the chili. It was nothing like the gritty, bitter sludge the Portuguese had presented. It was a revelation.
Then, hesitantly, he broke a piece of the solid bar. It snapped with a clean, satisfying sound. He put it in his mouth. It melted on his tongue, releasing an even more intense burst of flavor.
"It is… divine, Your Majesty," he breathed, his merchant's mind already calculating the potential. "They will pay a king's ransom for this."
"Exactly," Zhu Haolang said, wiping his hands on a cloth. The effort had exhausted him, but the result was worth it. "This will be our secret. We buy their raw beans. We sell them back the finished product at a thousand percent markup. We'll call the drink 'Heaven's Warmth' and the solid bars 'Dragon's Treasure.' Package them in exquisite lacquer boxes with silk linings. Make it the ultimate luxury good."
He left the kitchens, leaving behind a team of artisans and chefs who were now the guardians of the most valuable culinary secret in the world.
Collapsing onto his divan back in the pavilion, he felt a profound sense of accomplishment. He had not just created a treat; he had created a new economic engine. A product that would drain the silver from European treasuries and pour it into his own, all because he found their original product subpar.
Eunuch Xi approached quietly. "Your Majesty, a report from the northern border. The Mongol chieftain, Batu, has accepted the trade agreement. The first shipment of grain has been exchanged for horses and furs. There was… no incident."
Zhu Haolang smiled, eyes closed. Of course there wasn't. It was more profitable not to have one.
"And," Xi added, "the Portuguese Captain has sent word. Their ship is being loaded with the first order of cocoa beans, vanilla, and chili seeds. They are… exceptionally eager."
"Why wouldn't they be?" the emperor murmured, already half-asleep. "They think they're getting the better end of the deal."
As sleep took him, his final thought was one of deep satisfaction. He had secured peace with cavalry and crossbows, and he was funding it with chocolate. It was the most beautifully lazy system he had ever designed. The empire was not just safe; it was about to become deliciously, decadently rich. And all he had to do was take a nap.