Sunlight poured softly into the Empress's courtyard, filtering through bamboo screens and falling in warm patterns across the low table set for lunch.
For once, the palace felt… quiet.
The Empress sat opposite the Emperor, steam rising gently from the dishes between them. The food was simple—rice, clear soup, sautéed vegetables, and sliced meat—but it carried the unmistakable warmth of something cooked with care.
The Emperor picked up his chopsticks, glanced at her, then said lightly, "You're improving."
She raised an eyebrow. "In cooking or obedience?"
He almost choked on his soup.
"I meant cooking," he said quickly. "Though you've always been… skilled."
She snorted softly and continued eating.
For a few moments, neither spoke. It wasn't awkward—just unfamiliar. They had shared countless meals in name, but very few like this, without servants hovering too close, without politics pressing between every word.
Finally, the Emperor spoke again, his tone lower.
