"Master, this clove's fragrance seems different from the one we bought yesterday."

I pinched a small amount of the deep brown spice and brought it close to my nose, carefully inhaling the sweet and spicy aromas mingling together. The bustling atmosphere of the Capital City's largest spice market was filled with exotic scents that might overwhelm ordinary people, but for me, it was a mesmerizing symphony.


"Ahem... Lin, that's enough. You've been at this stall for nearly half an hour already." My master's weary cough came from behind me.

I turned to look at him, guilt washing over me. His complexion was paler today than yesterday, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. Despite the cool autumn weather, he was wrapped in a heavy cloak.

"It's alright, Master. Just a little longer. These cloves should be from Yunwu Mountain in the Southern Territories, but..." I sniffed the spice in my hand again. "That's strange—why do I detect a faint scent of the sea?"


The stall owner, a middle-aged man with a thick beard, watched me with amusement as I examined his goods. "You have a keen nose, young lady! These cloves are indeed from Yunwu Mountain, but they spent three months on a ship. They've absorbed the salty sea air during transport."

"I see!" I clapped my hands excitedly. "These cloves are perfect for stewing meat. The saltiness from the sea will balance the spiciness, making the meat even more delicious. What do you think, Master?"


I turned to my master, only to find him leaning heavily against a nearby pillar, his face ashen. I rushed to support him.

"Master! What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, just tired." Master forced a smile. "Let's head back after you finish buying the spices."

My heart sank. Master's illness was getting worse. Last month, Physician Wang said we needed precious herbs like ginseng and snow lotus, but the prices... A single ginseng root alone costs fifty taels of silver, yet our total savings barely reached ten taels.

"How about this pack of cloves, miss? Three coins—a fair price for quality spice." The stall owner urged.

"I'll take it." I pulled out my purse and counted the few remaining copper coins, my heart growing heavier with each one I handed over.

Just as we were about to leave, a commotion erupted nearby.

"Look! The palace has posted a new notice!"

"What now? More taxes?"

"No, looks like they're recruiting people."

Curiosity pulled me into the crowd. The notice was posted on the central bulletin board, written in elegant script:

"By Imperial Decree: Due to staffing shortages in the imperial kitchen, three female apprentice cooks will be recruited from the Capital City. Applicants must be between fourteen and eighteen years of age, of good character, and skilled in culinary arts. Selected candidates will receive a monthly salary of five taels of silver, with an additional twenty taels as year-end bonus. Interested individuals shall assemble at the palace gates at dawn three days hence. So decreed."

Five taels of silver monthly! With a twenty-tael bonus!

My heart raced. If I could enter the palace, Master's medical expenses would be covered!

But the palace...

The heart of power struggles, the place I feared most. As a child, Master told me my parents had lost their lives to palace intrigues. Since then, I've instinctively feared anything related to power and nobility.

"Lin, what are you looking at?" Master's weak voice pulled me back to reality.

"N-Nothing, just... the palace is recruiting kitchen staff," I stammered.

Master fell silent for a moment, then said softly, "If you want to go, I won't hold you back."

"I don't want to go!" I shook my head frantically. "Why would I ever want to go to such a place?"

But Master saw through me. He gently stroked my hair and said, "Lin, I know what troubles you. But remember, no matter where you go, never lose sight of your true purpose. Cooking brings joy to people—that will never change."

I bit my lip, torn by indecision. If I went, I might face danger. If I didn't, Master's illness...

"Is your condition really that serious?" I whispered.

Master didn't answer. His silence told me everything.

That night, I tossed and turned, the palace notice and Master's pale face haunting my thoughts.

Damn it all. For Master's sake, I'll try!

●--

Three days later, I stood nervously in the square outside the palace gates as dawn broke.

The sun hadn't fully risen, leaving the sky a faint purple. Yet the square already teemed with at least fifty young women, most dressed in fine clothes and carrying elaborate food boxes.

I glanced down at my rough clothes and simple bamboo basket, feeling like a sparrow among peacocks.

"Look at that country bumpkin. She actually thinks she has a chance?"

"Right? With those rags? She probably can't even afford proper ingredients."

"Shh, keep it down. She might hear you."

Despite their hushed tones, my sharp hearing caught every word. I gripped my basket handle tightly, forcing myself to ignore their barbs.

"Ladies, silence!" A sharp voice cut through the whispers.

A middle-aged eunuch in a deep blue robe stood before us, holding a yellow scroll.

"By order of Master Scarlet, Director of the Imperial Kitchen, the selection will now commence. Each candidate has one hour to prepare a dish. Ingredients and seasonings may be provided by the palace or brought by yourselves. Judgment criteria are taste, presentation, and creativity. Enter in order."

I was placed last. As I watched the others enter the makeshift kitchen one by one, my palms wouldn't stop sweating.

First was a girl in a pink satin dress. Her food box brimmed with expensive ingredients. Soon, enticing aromas drifted from the kitchen.

"God, that smells incredible! What is she making?"

"Must be snow swallow with white fungus. I spotted several expensive tonics in her box."

"Typical magistrate's daughter—all show and expense."

One by one, the candidates showcased their skills with fancy knife work and costly ingredients. Some prepared Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, others crafted intricate pastries with exotic spices, and one even served beauty soup with pearl powder and bird's nest.

With each display, my confidence shrank. They were not only skilled but used ingredients I'd never even seen. My basket held only simple home recipes and basic seasonings Master had taught me.

"Next!"

Finally, my turn came.

I took a deep breath and entered with my basket. The kitchen was better equipped than I'd imagined, with every type of pot and stove available. The ingredient counter displayed fresh vegetables and meats in perfect order.

Three examiners sat on a raised platform at one side. The central figure must be the famous Scarlet—a dignified woman in her forties wearing a deep purple robe. Her two colleagues flanked her, eyeing me critically.

"What dish will you prepare?" Scarlet asked.

"Fried rice with eggs," I replied softly.

A brief silence followed my words, broken by muffled laughter.

"Fried rice with eggs?" The examiner on the left sneered. "This is the imperial palace, not some roadside food stall."

"Indeed. The previous candidate prepared a medicinal soup with twenty rare ingredients, and you offer... fried rice?" The right examiner shook his head dismissively.

My cheeks burned, but I stood firm. Fried rice was the first dish Master taught me—my specialty. Though simple, perfection demanded precise control of heat, timing, and ingredients.

"You may begin." Scarlet's voice was calm, though doubt flickered in her eyes.

I removed three eggs from my basket. Master had specially selected them yesterday—freshly laid, their shells still retaining a hint of warmth.

Next came the rice. Instead of using the pre-cooked rice available, I chose to steam fresh rice. It would take longer, but only perfectly steamed rice would maintain distinct grains when stir-fried.

"What's she doing? Is she actually steaming rice from scratch?"

"She has only an hour, and she's wasting half of it just cooking rice!"

"This country bumpkin clearly doesn't understand what she's up against."

The whispers ebbed and flowed around me, but I tuned them out. Master always said a true cook focuses only on ingredients and heat—everything else is just noise.

While the rice steamed, I prepared the eggs. The first for the main mixture, the second with yolk and white separated, and the third kept whole for garnish.

When I cracked the first egg, a fresh aroma filled the air. I breathed deeply—the scent of a truly fresh egg, with hints of sweetness and a subtle grassy note.

The rice finished steaming perfectly. I lifted the lid, releasing a cloud of fragrant steam. Each grain stood plump and translucent, separating easily with a gentle touch—the perfect consistency.

Now for the crucial step—stir-frying.

I heated the wok to the precise temperature, then added a splash of oil. Not too hot, not too cold—just when fine ripples began forming on the surface, I added the egg mixture.

*Sizzle!*

The beaten eggs hit the pan with a satisfying hiss, golden-yellow liquid transforming into fluffy curds. I worked quickly with my spatula, keeping each piece tender and soft.

Next came the rice—the most demanding part. I needed just the right touch to blend rice and egg, coating each grain without overcooking or breaking it.

"God, that smells amazing..."

I caught someone's whisper. The kitchen now filled with the homey aroma of eggs and rice mingling together—warm, comforting, nostalgic.

For the final seasoning, I bypassed the fancy condiments on the counter and took out the special soy sauce Master had given me, plus a pinch of sea salt. The soy sauce went in for the last three seconds of cooking, the sea salt sprinkled just before serving.

"Time's up!"

I was just finishing, scooping the fried rice into a bowl. The golden grains sparkled, garnished with bright green scallions and a delicate egg roll made from the third egg.

When I placed my seemingly humble dish before the examiners, the kitchen atmosphere shifted noticeably.

The previous candidates' creations still lined the table: colorful pastries, gold-flecked beauty soup, intricately carved vegetable sculptures. My fried rice sat among them like an ugly duckling.

"Is this truly what you present to the imperial court?" asked the left examiner with a frown.

"Yes," I said, forcing confidence into my voice.

"This is an insult!" the right examiner snapped. "Do you mistake the imperial palace for some common tavern?"

Master Scarlet remained silent, studying my dish intently. After what felt like an eternity, she stood.

"I will taste it."

She lifted her chopsticks, took a small portion, and placed it in her mouth.

Then something extraordinary happened.

Master Scarlet's expression froze. Her eyes widened slowly, chopsticks suspended in mid-air, her entire body motionless.

The kitchen fell silent. Everyone held their breath, waiting for her verdict.

Nearly a full minute passed before Master Scarlet lowered her chopsticks. Something unfathomable flickered in her eyes.

"This fried rice..." her voice trembled slightly, "I taste sunshine in it."

"What?" The two deputy examiners exchanged confused glances.

"Not just sunshine," Master Scarlet continued, "but the first morning breeze, and... a pure, focused heart. These eggs—when were they laid? This rice—when was it harvested? Each ingredient captures its perfect moment, as if time itself has been preserved."

She turned to me, her gaze suddenly intense and searching.

"Your name?"

"Feng Lin," I answered softly.

"Feng Lin," Master Scarlet nodded, "you're accepted. Report to the palace at noon tomorrow."

"What?!"

"Impossible!"

"For a bowl of egg fried rice?"

Protests erupted around us, but Master Scarlet silenced them with a wave of her hand.

"The essence of cooking lies not in rare ingredients, but in the chef's heart. You all have yet to understand this." She looked at me. "Feng Lin, remember this fried rice. Let it remind you to never lose your true purpose, no matter where life takes you."

I stood there stunned, barely processing what had happened. I was actually accepted?

Master's medicine money is secured!