At dawn the next morning, the bell of the Imperial Kitchen rang earlier than usual.
By exactly one quarter of an hour.
Qing Tian stood in front of the main stove, stirring a pot of soup herself.
It wasn't a precious medicinal broth meant for the Emperor.
Nor was it one of the nourishing delicacies requested by the concubines.
This was something far simpler.
A bottom-rank soup.
White radish.
Old rice.
Crushed bones.
The broth looked pale, but it had been simmering for hours.
The heat was steady, the aroma spreading slowly through the kitchen like a silent thread weaving its way through the halls.
"Tonight's extra meal will be served a quarter hour early."
Her voice was calm.
But the moment those words fell—
the entire kitchen froze.
Earlier?
That almost never happened anymore.
Some people lowered their heads and acknowledged the order.
Others exchanged subtle glances.
Qing Tian saw every single reaction.
That was exactly what she wanted.
Buckets of soup were soon carried out one by one.
Distribution moved quickly.
But just as two of the buckets were about to leave the kitchen—
someone "accidentally" blocked the way.
"Director Qing."
Wang Youcai smiled politely.
"This soup… perhaps it should be reported to the Internal Affairs Bureau first for inspection."
"The inspections have been strict lately."
"If anything goes wrong, it wouldn't be good for you either."
Qing Tian glanced at him.
She didn't get angry.
She didn't smile.
She simply said,
"Then we'll do it your way."