Chapter 1

When I went to pay my morning respects at my mother-in-law’s quarters, I caught the peculiar fragrance of meat.

The carved red sandalwood windows were shut tight. White smoke from burning kinam aloeswood curled out of a bronze crane censer on the yellow rosewood table.

In the gloom, my mother-in-law knelt before a golden Buddha, turning a string of jadeite prayer beads as she murmured sutras.

“Mother.” I bowed.

Only after she finished the passage did she slowly turn. Her eyes rolled stiffly downward until her gaze settled on me.

“Mm,” she said at last. “Rise.”

My husband came from a family of officials. One of his ancestors had attained the third rank as Chancellor of the Imperial Academy, so the household observed a host of strict, elaborate rules.

At first, I had struggled to adjust when my mother-in-law demanded that I pay my respects in her room morning and evening. By now, I was used to it.

She held out a hand, let a maid help her into a chair, and picked up a pale celadon soup bowl from the table.

Only then did I realize that the strange fragrance came from that bowl.

With the lid on, the scent had been faint. The moment she lifted it, steam billowed out with a wave of aroma. The imperious smell of meat swept every trace of kinam from the room.

It was hard to describe.

It was as though every delicacy in the mortal world had been distilled into that one small porcelain bowl.

The smell of meat in particular drove every thought from the mind but one.

Drink the soup.

I frowned instinctively and raised the sachet at my waist to my nose.

The scent of borneol and mint dispelled enough of the meaty fragrance for me to keep my head.

But the maid behind me was already staring blankly at the bowl, lost in a daze.

The crease between my mother-in-law’s brows deepened. She lowered her eyes.

“Lady Yan, is this how you discipline the servants in your quarters?”

I tugged at the maid. She dropped to her knees at once, trembling with fear.

“Your daughter-in-law failed to teach her properly.”

My mother-in-law’s mouth turned down, whether in scorn or disgust I could not tell.

“As expected of a girl who lost her mother young. There was no one at home to raise you properly.”

My fingers tightened around my sleeve.

Back when Father was the Imperial Medical Director, the Wen family had been the ones to seek this marriage.

I still remembered my mother-in-law holding my hand, her eyes full of affection and pity.

“Poor child.”

“I have always wanted a daughter. From now on, you will be a daughter of my own. No one will ever be allowed to bully you.”

And after the wedding, the Wen family had indeed treated me well.

Until three years ago, when Father fell ill and resigned his post, losing all access to the emperor.

The Wen family’s attitude toward me plummeted.

My mother-in-law, who had once claimed to hate formalities, began demanding my attendance morning and evening.

At every festival, she ordered me to copy the sutras a hundred times. Again and again, I wrote until dawn with an aching hand.

She called it prayer. In truth, it was nothing but torment.

My husband, who had promised that we would be the only two in our marriage for the rest of our lives, began haunting the pleasure quarters. He even took a courtesan as his concubine and spent every day and night in her room.

He left me no dignity at all.

My mother-in-law lifted the soup bowl, closed her eyes, and drew a long, blissful breath.

At first, I had assumed it was a vegetarian dish enriched with stock. She was a devout Buddhist, after all, and had abstained from meat for decades.

Then I glanced into the bowl and saw something pink…

It looked like a piece of meat.

Behind her, the golden Buddha smiled with serene compassion amid coils of incense smoke.

Before it, my mother-in-law gulped down the meat soup almost greedily. Her jadeite beads slipped onto her clothes, and she did not even notice.

Soon, the bowl was empty. She let out a satisfied breath.

She picked up her beads again and held the bowl as she spoke to me.

“This is immortal flesh bestowed by His Majesty. My second son earned it through his great service on the frontier.”

Immortal flesh?

Only then did I recall the rumors I had heard.

During last year’s bitter cold, snow had fallen in the sixth month, freezing vast stretches of crops to death.

This year brought a terrible drought. I heard that harvests had failed across several provinces. The people wandered homeless, and some had even traded children with one another for food.

Then the earth convulsed. Luoyang was said to have been struck especially hard. The emperor dreamed enemy troops had stormed the palace and leapt from his bed, ready to flee.

Disaster followed disaster. The people gradually began to say that Heaven was punishing an emperor without virtue.

So the emperor offered sacrifice at the Circular Mound, worshipping the Supreme Deity of Vast Heaven and begging forgiveness.

The next day, a strange mass of flesh fell upon the altar, huge as a mountain and foul beyond endurance.

The emperor thought it another divine punishment and fell gravely ill from fright.

But the Grand Astrologer declared it immortal flesh. Eating it, he said, would grant eternal life and immunity from all disease.

The emperor shared it with the empress. Sure enough, every symptom vanished and their health returned.

Delighted, the emperor distributed the remainder among the imperial clan and his closest ministers.

My husband’s younger brother—my brother-in-law Wen Ge—had just crushed the Xianbei. Leading only a few dozen light cavalry deep into enemy territory, he had personally captured the Xianbei general Tufa Hulinlong.

That must have been why the emperor awarded him immortal flesh.

The rich smell of meat still filled the air.

The room had not seen daylight in a very long time.

I lowered my head respectfully.

“Yes.”