Chapter 1

To catch the mistress my boyfriend had secretly installed in an apartment, I climbed eighteen flights of stairs. Then my legs gave out, and I fell.

When I opened my eyes again, I was a favored imperial consort.

Actually, “favored” was generous. I’d simply survived longer than the others.

Qi Yin, the tyrant, had killed so many of the three thousand beauties in his harem that only five and a half remained—

Five consorts, plus half a woman lying comatose in the Cold Palace.

Overcome with grief and indignation, I summoned my personal maid, Xiao’e. “What sort of consort am I?”

“Your Highness, you are Noble Consort Gao.”

“I’m highly noble?”

Xiao’e said nothing.

“Your surname is Gao. Your rank is Noble Consort.”

“Oh.”

Xiao’e was the only person who’d noticed something was wrong with me. She had entered the palace with the original owner of this body and served Noble Consort Gao since childhood.

My explanation was that I’d injured my head when I fell into the water a few days earlier and lost my memory.

Once you had amnesia, a complete personality change was perfectly reasonable, right?

Forced to accept that I was now a tyrant’s consort and might lose my head at any moment, I called Xiao’e back.

“Since I’m so highly noble, the imperial kitchens can make me anything I want, right?”

“Yes.”

I waved a hand. “Tell them to braise me two pork knuckles. Quickly.”

…

Two hours later, someone kicked my door open.

I looked up with a pork knuckle between my teeth. The man in the doorway wore a bright yellow robe, its hem embroidered with five-clawed golden dragons.

Swallowing a mouthful of collagen, I knew what to do without being told. My knees buckled, and I dropped straight to the floor.

“Blessings upon Your Majesty!”

That didn’t sound quite right. I immediately corrected myself. “Your consort pays her respects to Your Majesty.”

A man’s low voice sounded above me. Quite a pleasant voice, actually, apart from the anger in it.

“You had both the pork knuckles I ordered the kitchens to reserve braised for yourself?”

My legs went weak again.

I was finished.

Apparently, I’d stolen the emperor’s dinner.

The tyrant didn’t even give me time to regret it. His broad sleeve swept out as he erupted in imperial fury.

“Guards! Drag Noble Consort Gao out and beat her to death!”

Beat me to death?

I nearly died of fright. All this over a pork knuckle?

In my panic, the urge to survive made me shout from my knees—

“Mercy, Your Majesty! I can cook dishes you’ve never tasted!”

Qi Yin glanced at me and stopped the eunuchs advancing to seize me. “What dishes? There is no delicacy under heaven I haven’t tried.”

Still kneeling, I racked my brains.

Eventually, I ventured, “Northeastern iron-pot stew?”

The tyrant shook his head. He hadn’t tried that.

So Qi Yin hauled me off to the imperial kitchens. I had six hours. If my alleged delicacy failed to impress him, he would take my head.

I asked the head cook whether they had pickled cabbage. He stared at me blankly.

On second thought, people in ancient times called the stuff zu, didn’t they?

I procured pickled cabbage, potatoes, and a goose, had a eunuch set up an enormous iron pot, and started stewing on the spot.

Presumably…

If I botched this dish, the next thing stewing in that pot would be me.