Chapter 2: The Poisoned Stew at the General's Mansion

"Chen Xuan, where do you think you're putting your hands?"

A coarse ceramic bowl slammed onto the chopping board, splattering sauce all over half of Chen Xuan's sleeve. He didn't stop working; he just tapped the back of his knife against the board before looking up.

Liu Xing'er stood in the doorway of the kitchen, hands on her hips. Behind her trailed two broad-hiped maids, one holding a broom and the other with her arms crossed. At fifteen, she wore her hair in twin buns and a water-red tunic, her face dripping with smugness she couldn't bother to hide.

"Is that chopping board something you can touch?" Her voice cut through the air, loud enough that everyone else in the kitchen—stoking the fires, picking vegetables—stopped what they were doing. "My mother said everything in the kitchen is precious. You're just an outside grunt. Touching things is fine, but do you dare use a knife?"

Chen Xuan stood his knife upright; a thin slice of meat still clung to the blade.

"Miss, you're out of line," he said, keeping his voice low. "If a grunt can't use a knife, who cuts the meat on this board? Can't expect the Old Madam to chew on whole chunks."

"You—"

"Besides," Chen Xuan wiped the knife clean with a rag, "I've been in the mansion for seven days now. I've been using this knife every day. Is your eyesight bad, or did you just now remember I exist?"

Lao Han, who was stoking the fire nearby, snorted, a "phew" escaping his lips before Liu Xing'er shot him a glare that silenced him instantly.

Liu Xing'er's face flushed red. She took two steps forward. "Don't talk back to me! Where is my mother's silver bracelet? You were the only one keeping the fire last night, and it's gone by this morning!"

"Bracelet?" Chen Xuan set the knife down on the board with a gentle thud. "You mean the one on Auntie Liu's wrist? I saw her yesterday. She took it to the pawnshop and swapped it for half a string of coins. Said she needed the money to buy fabric for your shoes."

The kitchen went silent for a beat.

Liu Xing'er's face turned from red to white. "Y-you're lying!"

"I can lie all I want," Chen Xuan said, pointing out of the kitchen. "The clerk at the pawnshop remembers faces. If you don't believe me, call the steward and ask. Though I doubt Auntie Liu would mind if the steward found out whether that bracelet was originally a gift from the mansion or her own dowry."

That hit home. Liu Xing'er's mother, Madam Liu, was the second wife of Chen Xuan's biological father. She had entered the house empty-handed; that silver bracelet had actually been a relic of Chen Xuan's late mother. Liu Xing'er's lip trembled, and suddenly, she reached out and swept the bowl of prepared sauce off the board to the floor.

*Clatter.* The bowl shattered, sauce splashing across the tiles.

"I'm telling you to keep your mouth shut!"

Chen Xuan looked down at the mess. It was a blend of soy paste, minced ginger, and a dash of aged vinegar that he’d prepared as a dipping sauce for the Old Madam's reunion cakes. He crouched down, picked up a shard of ceramic, and slowly stood back up.

"Miss," he said, placing the shard in the corner of the board. "This bowl of sauce isn't worth much money. But if the Old Madam's cakes miss their timing, I'll just tell the steward the truth when he asks."

"You dare!"

"Why wouldn't I dare?" Chen Xuan looked at her. "In this mansion, aside from my life, I've got nothing else to lose."

Just as things got tense, footsteps were heard outside. Steward Wang Fu pushed aside the curtain and entered. Seeing the mess, his brow furrowed. "What's going on?"

Liu Xing'er rushed in, "Uncle Wang, I was just telling this grunt about his dirty hands. He's made a mess of the kitchen—"

"Enough." Wang Fu waved his hand, ignoring her completely. "Chen Xuan, the Old Madam wants reunion cakes for lunch. They need to be soft, hot, and bite-sized. The last two batches she couldn't chew, and she gave us a look that could kill. Make sure this one is perfect."

Chen Xuan nodded.

Wang Fu turned to leave, then stopped and looked back. "The Old Madam hasn't had much of an appetite these past few days. Everything feels stuck in her chest. The family doctor said she needs something to aid digestion. You handle it."

"Understood," Chen Xuan said. "Give me the time it takes to burn a stick of incense."

Liu Xing'er stood there, her face cycling through green and pale shades. After Wang Fu left, she gritted her teeth, stepped closer to Chen Xuan, and hissed, "Just you wait. If those cakes fail, all my mother has to do is say one word to the Old Madam, and you'll be rolling up your bedrolls and getting out of here."

"Relax, Miss," Chen Xuan rolled up his sleeves. "Whether I stick around depends on how good the cakes taste, not on your sharp tongue."

Liu Xing'er stormed off in a huff, sweeping her sleeve as she went.

Once she was gone, Chen Xuan cleaned up the floor and started mixing the ingredients. Lao Han was squatting at the stove mouth adding wood. He muttered, "You're crazy, boy. The Liu women have been running roughshod over this house for three years. Even the senior servants give them a wide berth."

"They give them a wide berth because they never met someone who wouldn't back down," Chen Xuan said, sifting the glutinous rice flour. "I'm just a grunt. A guy in bare feet ain't afraid of a guy in expensive shoes."

"Just don't get yourself killed."

"I won't." Chen Xuan grabbed a handful of dried hawthorn berries and crushed them with the back of his knife. "The Old Madam's bad appetite? That's food stagnation. Glutinous rice is sticky; eaten alone, it'll choke her for sure. Adding hawthorn and dried tangerine peel will break it down."

Lao Han didn't understand the medical logic, but he just nodded along.

The cakes went into the steamer, and just as a stick of incense burned down, Chen Xuan lifted the lid. Steam billowed up. The cakes were trembling slightly, each one no bigger than a walnut, white with a hint of hawthorn red showing through.

Before he could pack them into the food box, the curtain was lifted and Madam Liu entered.

Madam Liu was in her early forties, wearing a faded blue cloth jacket. She wore a broad smile, but her eyes were scanning the kitchen.

"Xuan'er," she said warmly. "Xing'er doesn't know any better. Don't take it to heart."

Chen Xuan didn't respond.

Madam Liu walked over, touched the edge of the food box, and let out a gasp. "Oh my. What's this weird smell on the cakes?"

"Hawthorn and tangerine peel," Chen Xuan said. "It aids digestion. Perfect for the Old Madam."

"Hawthorn?" Madam Liu frowned. "The Old Madam's teeth aren't strong. Acidic food will give her heartburn. You're an outsider, aren't you? You don't know the rules of this house."

As she spoke, she reached for the food box.

Chen Xuan moved the box slightly to the side. "Auntie, these cakes are for the Old Madam. If you want to taste them, I'll make a separate batch."

Madam Liu’s hand froze in mid-air, her smile fading. "Chen Xuan, I am your stepmother. After your father passed, I raised you. Is this the way you talk to me?"

"I appreciate you raising me, Auntie," Chen Xuan closed the lid on the box. "But if something goes wrong with this box, it's my head that gets chopped off, not yours."

Madam Liu’s expression shifted. Before she could reply, Wang Fu came back to urge him on. Chen Xuan grabbed the food box and headed out, leaving a cold "Just you wait" hanging in the air behind him.

In the main courtyard, the Old Madam was reclining on a couch. Her hair was white, her face yellowish. On the table sat the cakes from the previous two attempts, untouched. Liu Xing'er stood by the couch, massaging the Old Madam's legs. When Chen Xuan entered, the corner of her mouth twitched.

"Old Madam, the cakes are here." Chen Xuan opened the food box.

Liu Xing'er rushed over immediately. "Grandmother, look. These cakes are so small. Who's supposed to eat these? Chen Xuan is just fooling around."

The Old Madam lifted her eyelids. "Bring them."

Chen Xuan handed over the plate of cakes. A maid stepped forward to feed her, but the Old Madam waved her away and pinched a piece herself. The cake was small; it went down in one bite.

"Mm." The Old Madam chewed twice. "Soft. A little sour."

"I added hawthorn," Chen Xuan said. "You've had food stagnation these past days. Hawthorn helps clear it."

The Old Madam nodded and took another piece.

Liu Xing'er stood there, unable to hide her frustration, and blurted out, "Grandmother, what if there's something filthy in these cakes? Chen Xuan is just a grunt. Who knows if he even washed his hands?"

The Old Madam ignored her. She was already putting the third cake in her mouth.

That was when the trouble started.

The Old Madam was chewing when she suddenly stopped. Her hand clutched her chest, and her face turned purple.

"Grandmother?" Liu Xing'er leaned in. "Grandmother, what's wrong?"

The Old Madam opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her hand gripped the edge of the couch tightly, a rattling sound coming from her throat.

A maid screamed, "The Old Madam is choking!"

Chaos erupted in the room. Liu Xing'er burst into tears, wailing, "I knew there was something wrong with the cakes! Chen Xuan! You've hurt the Old Madam!"

Chen Xuan rushed forward in two strides, helping the Old Madam sit up straight. Her face had turned purple, her eyes rolling back.

"Everyone stand still!" he barked. The room went silent for a moment.

"Where's the family doctor?" Chen Xuan said while circling behind the Old Madam. "She's choking, not poisoned. Someone go get the doctor. Quick!"

A maid ran out.

Liu Xing'er lunged at him, trying to grab him. "Don't touch the Old Madam!"

Chen Xuan blocked her with an elbow. "If you don't want the Old Madam to die, stay away from me."

He moved to stand directly behind the Old Madam. He wrapped his arms around her from under her armpits, placed one fist just above her navel, and cupped it with his other hand. Then he thrust upward with force.

One.

Two.

On the third push, the Old Madam made a choking sound, and a small piece of cake flew out of her mouth, followed by a gasp of air.

Chen Xuan supported her and patted her back. The Old Madam coughed, tears streaming down her face, her color slowly returning.

The room was dead silent.

Liu Xing'er stood there, mouth agape, unable to form a single word.

The General returned half an hour later.

The clatter of armor echoed in the courtyard. Wang Fu ran to greet him. General Xiao Dingbei was around forty, wearing plain black clothes with a sword at his waist. He entered and checked on the Old Madam first. Seeing her sipping warm water on the couch, her face calming down, he turned around.

"What happened?"

Wang Fu recounted the events. When he got to the part where Liu Xing'er had shouted that Chen Xuan had harmed the Old Madam, the General raised an eyebrow.

Liu Xing'er dropped to her knees with a *thud*. "General, I didn't mean it that way! I was just panicked—"

"When you're panicked, you bite at random people?" The General's voice wasn't loud, but it carried weight. "Your grandmother was choking. He was saving her life. What were you yelling about?"

Liu Xing'er dared not make a sound.

The General glanced at Chen Xuan. "You saved her?"

"Yes, my lord," Chen Xuan replied. "The Old Madam was blocked by the glutinous rice cake. I pushed the blockage out, and she recovered."

"You know medicine?"

"I don't know medicine," Chen Xuan said. "I just know that when someone is choking, you have to push the air out. Even the midwives in the villages know this trick."

The General hummed, no further questions.

As they spoke, someone from outside announced, "Steward Zhou has arrived."

The General adjusted his robe and said to Chen Xuan, "We have a guest today. Prepare one dish. You make it."

"What dish?"

"Your specialty," the General said. "Don't embarrass me."

Chen Xuan accepted the order and turned to head back to the kitchen. As he reached the moon gate, he heard the General say to Wang Fu over his shoulder, "That girl? Send her back to her mother's quarters. No leaving her room."

In the kitchen, Lao Han had already stoked the charcoal fire to a bright blaze. Chen Xuan went through his ingredients: half a rack of lamb ribs, a jar of paste, a few hawthorn berries, and a plate of honey.

He sliced the lamb ribs into strips, loosened the meat with the back of his knife, and marinated them in a mix of paste, honey, crushed hawthorn, and a pinch of Sichuan peppercorn. While the meat marinated, he set up another pot, tossing in lamb bones, radish, and dried tangerine peel to make a Braising Soup.

After the incense stick burned down, the lamb ribs went onto the charcoal rack.

Fat dripped onto the charcoal, hissing and causing flames to flare up. The aroma of the meat spread instantly.

In the front hall, Steward Zhou was talking with the General. Steward Zhou was in his fifties, wearing a dark blue robe with cloud patterns embroidered on the cuffs; he was a man from the Imperial Kitchen. Sitting next to him was a young man in a moon-white robe, a jade piece at his waist, looking to be under thirty.

"General Xiao," Steward Zhou held his tea cup. "The reason I'm here is to procure ingredients for the palace. The lamb from the north is good, but the chefs in the palace are stuck making the same few things."

The young man laughed. "Uncle Zhou, the way you talk makes it sound like nobody in the palace knows how to cook."

"Young Master Li," Steward Zhou shook his head. "It's not that nobody can cook. It's that nobody dares to cook."

Just then, the food was brought in.

Chen Xuan walked in with the plate. The lamb ribs were roasted to a crisp, glistening with oil, served with a small dish of hawthorn sauce on the side. He set it down and left without looking up.

The young man picked up his chopsticks first. He picked up a piece of meat, took a bite, and froze.

"What is it?" Steward Zhou asked.

The young man didn't answer. He took another piece. This time, he chewed slowly, his brow furrowing before relaxing.

"This meat..." He put down his chopsticks, looking at the plate. "The outside is charred, the inside is tender. It has the sweetness of honey, but with a hint of acid, not greasy at all."

Steward Zhou also picked up a piece. He chewed twice and his eyes went wide.

"This acid isn't vinegar," he said, putting down his chopsticks and turning to the General. "It's hawthorn. Adding hawthorn to meat removes the gamey smell, cuts the grease, and opens the appetite. No one in the palace uses this technique."

He stood up and looked toward the kitchen. "General Xiao, who cooked this dish?"

The General held his wine cup, speaking slowly. "A grunt."

Steward Zhou blinked.

The young man suddenly smiled, slapping his chopsticks on the table. "A grunt?"

He looked up, his eyes shining. "Call him in. I want to ask him how many more times he can make this dish."

But Steward Zhou had already gone around the table, walking briskly outside. After two steps, he stopped, turned back, and cupped his hands in a salute to the General. "General Xiao, I want to meet the one who cooked this. If I can't see him today, I'll just stay in your house."

The General's hand holding the wine cup hung suspended in the air.