The next morning, I arrived at the imperial kitchen with butterflies in my stomach.

The space was at least ten times larger than any ordinary kitchen, with rows of stoves, steamers, and meticulously organized seasoning racks. The sight of such exquisite equipment made my eyes shine with excitement. However, I quickly sensed the tense atmosphere.


"So you're the new girl?" A portly chef in his fifties approached, eyeing me with undisguised contempt. "I hear the Emperor wants you preparing his meals? What a joke! A child who's barely grown her adult teeth, handling imperial cuisine?"

I quickly bowed. "Greetings, Master Chef. I'm Feng Lin. I welcome your guidance."

"Guide you?" The chef snorted. "We've been cooking here for decades. What could we possibly learn from some slip of a girl?"


The other imperial chefs paused their work to stare. Their eyes radiated hostility and resentment.

No surprise there. A sixteen-year-old suddenly tasked with preparing the Emperor's meals—who wouldn't be jealous?


"Chef Walden, this is the Emperor's command. We must cooperate," Master Scarlet approached us. "Feng Lin, you'll shadow Chef Walden today to learn imperial kitchen protocols."

Chef Walden nodded reluctantly, his displeasure plainly visible.

"Fine, since Master Scarlet insists," he said through gritted teeth. "Girl, do you even know what's on the Emperor's menu today?"

I shook my head. "Please enlighten me, Master Chef."

"You don't even know that, yet you presume to be an imperial chef?" His sneer deepened. "Today's menu is braised lion's head meatballs, steamed perch, poached chicken, and a soup. Just prepare the ingredients and stay out of the way."

I nodded, grateful to be involved at all.

What followed, however, made me increasingly uncomfortable.

When I went to fetch pork from the storeroom, I discovered the prime cuts missing. The storekeeper shrugged. "Chef Walden took them earlier—said it was urgent."

I selected a lesser cut instead. But when I began preparing the mince, I noticed the premium spices had vanished from the rack.

"Where are the premium star anise and cinnamon?" I asked a nearby chef.

"Someone took them for another dish," he replied without looking up. "Use the regular stuff."

I realized then they were sabotaging me deliberately.

But no matter. I've always believed true culinary mastery doesn't depend on premium ingredients but on the chef's skill. If this was their game, I'd beat them at it!

I carefully examined what remained. Though the meat was inferior, proper technique could elevate it. Master had taught me to add rice wine and light soy sauce to the filling, then coat it with egg white to tenderize the meat.

As for seasonings... I discovered some overlooked spices in a corner of the storeroom. To an untrained eye they seemed ordinary, but my nose detected exceptional quality.

This cinnamon, though darkened with age, possessed a rich, pure aroma. And these small star anise pods were perfectly oily—ideal for braising.

I threw myself into preparation, losing myself in the work.

Just as I began making caramel, a nearby chef "accidentally" bumped into me, nearly causing me to spill the hot syrup.

"Oops, sorry. Didn't see you there," he apologized with obvious insincerity.

I swallowed my anger and started over. But minutes later, someone "accidentally" knocked over my prepared garnishes.

This was the third "accident" already!

I took a deep breath to center myself. Master always said a true chef stays composed in any situation—agitation affects the food's flavor.

"Clearly I'm not welcome here," I thought. "But that's fine. This is my chance to prove I can create excellence even under difficult circumstances!"

I adjusted my approach. If they were determined to sabotage me, I'd counter with even more refined techniques.

For the lion's head meatballs, I used precisely 70% lean meat to 30% fat, then pounded it repeatedly with the knife back to develop elasticity. Though my seasonings weren't premium, I maximized each spice's potential through exact proportions and perfect timing.

While caramelizing sugar, I controlled the heat with obsessive precision. The instant it turned amber, I added scallions and ginger to release their aromatics, then dropped in the meatballs.

With a satisfying sizzle, rich aromas filled the kitchen.

I thought proudly: See? Even with your sabotage, I can create something magnificent!

But at that moment, a greater problem emerged.

Rosalind, who was preparing the steamed perch, sidled up to me and whispered, "Feng Lin, be careful. Some people here aren't just being petty."

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

She glanced around to ensure no one was listening. "That perch of yours... I think something's wrong with it."

What?!

I rushed to check the fish I'd prepared for steaming. As soon as I lifted the cover, a faint but unmistakable fishy odor hit me.

This fish wasn't fresh!

Its eyes had clouded over and its gills had darkened—clear signs it had been sitting too long. But I distinctly remembered checking its freshness this morning!

"How is this possible?" I panicked. "It was perfectly fresh earlier!"

"Someone must have switched it when you weren't looking," Rosalind sighed. "We have only half an hour before serving time. There's no time to prepare another fish."

We're finished! If the Emperor is served spoiled fish, it's a death sentence!

My mind raced in panic. Around me, several chefs watched with barely concealed satisfaction, waiting for my downfall.

No, I won't surrender so easily!

I forced myself to calm down and examined the fish carefully. Though past its prime, it wasn't completely spoiled. With proper technique, I might still salvage it.

But how could I eliminate that fishy odor and make it delicious?

I closed my eyes, desperately recalling Master's teachings. Suddenly, an idea struck me.

Master always said a truly skilled chef turns disadvantages into advantages! If this fish had developed a strong smell, I'd use techniques to transform that very quality into something delicious!

I rushed to gather specific ingredients: white pepper, Shaoxing wine, aged vinegar, ginger, lemon...

"What are you doing?" Chef Walden asked with contempt as he watched me work frantically.

"Saving this fish," I replied with determination.

"Save it?" Chef Walden erupted in laughter. "A fish past its prime? That's a fool's errand!"

I ignored his mockery and focused entirely on the task before me.

First, I thoroughly washed the fish with aged vinegar and saltwater to remove surface mucus and odors. Then I marinated it in Huadiao wine, using alcohol to break down the compounds causing the fishiness.

Next came the crucial step: a special sauce. I mixed soy sauce with white pepper, lemon juice, ginger juice, and a touch of aged vinegar—a combination that would not only mask fishiness but enhance the fish's natural umami.

I stuffed the cavity with ginger slices and lemon pieces, then wrapped the entire fish in lotus leaves. Steaming it this way would eliminate any remaining fishiness while infusing it with lotus fragrance.

Time ticked by mercilessly as I waited, my palms slick with nervous sweat.

"Time's up!" Eunuch De called from the doorway. "His Majesty awaits his meal!"

Holding my breath, I carefully lifted the steamer lid.

A fresh, enticing aroma immediately wafted out, with no trace of fishiness!

The fish gleamed pearly white, glistening with my special sauce, looking more appetizing than even the freshest catch.

"This... how is this possible?" Chef Walden's eyes widened in disbelief. "It was clearly stale, how could it..."

Master Scarlet approached and examined my creation. She inhaled its aroma, then took a small taste.

"Excellent!" She nodded with satisfaction. "Not only is there no fishiness, but it's exceptionally flavorful. Feng Lin, how did you accomplish this?"

I wiped sweat from my brow. "I used acidity to neutralize the fishiness, then spices to enhance flavor. The key lies in precise proportions and timing."

Master Scarlet regarded me with newfound respect. "To resolve such a crisis so cleverly under pressure—you truly have the makings of an imperial chef."

She turned to Chef Walden and the others, her expression darkening instantly. "As for whoever switched the ingredients, I will uncover the truth! Such sabotage in the imperial kitchen is punishable by death!"

Chef Walden and his cohorts paled visibly, lowering their heads in silence.

"Feng Lin, from today you are officially part of the Imperial Kitchen," Scarlet declared, patting my shoulder. "If anyone challenges you again, show them what true culinary mastery looks like!"

I nearly wept with joy. Despite all the obstacles thrown in my path, I had proven myself!

More importantly, I discovered that adversity hadn't broken me—it had revealed strengths I didn't know I possessed. Perhaps this was what Master meant by "Pressure creates diamonds."

"Thank you, Master Scarlet! I won't let you down!" I declared with conviction.

Looking at the chefs who had mocked me just hours ago, now staring with reluctant respect, I felt a surge of pride and accomplishment.

Hmph! Who said I was just some naive country girl? I, Feng Lin, am not to be underestimated!

Yet I knew today was merely the beginning. In this labyrinth of palace intrigue, greater challenges surely awaited.

But no matter. With these two hands and a heart that loves cooking, no obstacle is insurmountable!

Let anyone who dares challenge me witness true culinary mastery!