Morning sunlight poured into the Whisper Bowl, spilling across the freshly scrubbed floors and steaming pots.
The smell of ginger, soy, and sesame oil filled the air.
For the first time in a long while, Lian An—the Empress of the realm—was not wearing silk.
She had tied her hair into a simple knot, rolled up her sleeves, and stood beside the stove, carefully stirring lotus soup with a wooden ladle.
The warm air fogged her lashes, and a small smile curved her lips as she tasted the broth.
Yao Qing stood across from her, hands on hips, shaking her head.
"If the palace saw you now, they'd faint," she said. "An Empress cooking with her own hands."
"I'd rather stir soup than politics," Lian An replied, her tone dry but content.
The twins were rushing about, one carrying dumpling dough, the other bringing herbs. Wei Jie was cleaning the floor, his sleeves rolled to his elbows.
