Chapter 97
As soon as the invitation to the cooking competition was posted, it was like a boulder crashing into a tranquil lake, sending ripples through the capital. People crowded around the notice board, the literate reading at the top of their lungs, the illiterate craning their necks to listen, shock and excitement written across everyone's face.
"The first prize is... five hundred taels? Did I see it right? It's a, ten, a hundred... It really is five hundred taels of gold!" A strong man rubbed his eyes and his voice changed.
The crowd erupted in excitement. Five hundred taels of gold—what kind of a concept? Ordinary people would never see that much money in their entire lives. This sum was enough to buy a large, three-story house in the capital, along with dozens of acres of fertile land, and live comfortably as a wealthy man.
"And there's the honorary title of 'Eastern Palace Imperial Chef'! Oh my God, if we take first place, we'll not only be rich, but also famous! Who will dare to look down on our chefs in the future?" A restaurant chef's face flushed with excitement, as if the golden plaque had already been hung on the lintel of his own house.
The news spread like wildfire, spreading throughout the capital within half a day. From the renowned chefs of the royal family to the cooks at street vendors and even the housewives of ordinary households, everyone was abuzz with excitement. This wasn't just a competition; it was a path to great success.
Prince Wei's Palace.
"Bang!" A fine celadon teacup was thrown heavily to the ground and shattered into pieces.
Prince Wei, Chen Yancong's face was ashen, his chest heaving violently. "Song Qingyuan! It's her again! She dares to offer five hundred taels of gold as a prize for a cooking competition! Where did she get the money? Is the East Palace's treasury a mountain of gold and silver?"
Standing in front of him was a thin middle-aged man. He was the head of the Chen family in the capital, the uncle of King Wei, Chen Yuanjing.
"Your Highness, please calm down," Chen Yuanjing bowed, his eyes dark. "The Crown Princess's move kills three birds with one stone. First, it builds momentum for 'Imperial Fresh' and thoroughly publicizes the reputation of this soy sauce. Second, it uses generous rewards and empty titles to win over the hearts of the people, so that even the chefs in the capital will remember her well. Third, and most importantly, she's demonstrating to us."
"Demonstration?" Shen Yancong sneered, "Is she worthy of it?"
"Your Highness, you must not underestimate her." Chen Yuanjing's tone was very serious. "Li Deyu suffered a setback at the Ministry of Revenue, and he paved the way for her in disgrace. Even a senior official like Zhang Daxueshi personally visited her for a few bottles of soy sauce. Now she has caused such a big fuss. The people of the capital now only know the Crown Princess as virtuous and caring about the people's livelihood. Your previous efforts are about to be overwhelmed by her small favors."
Shen Yancong's expression grew increasingly grim. He knew, of course, that the people's hearts were something invisible and intangible, yet they could cost him his life at a crucial moment. He had painstakingly cultivated this for years, winning over officials in the court and providing porridge and paving the way for the common people, finally building up the momentum to rival the Crown Prince. But Song Qingyuan's tactics, seemingly unremarkable, each struck a chord, bypassing the court to win over the lowest-ranking common people and merchants.
"Uncle, what do you think we should do?" Shen Yancong forced himself to calm down, "We can't just watch her steal the show."
Chen Yuanjing's eyes gleamed. "Your Highness, since she's set up the arena, why don't we go up there and perform a bit of a show? She's trying to gain fame, and we'll ruin her reputation."
"Oh? What's the plan?"
"Liu Yishou, the head chef of Zuixianju, the capital's premier restaurant, was planted by my Chen family many years ago. He's a master culinary artist, particularly skilled in carving and plating. His dishes are magnificent and exquisite, capable of impressing even the most inexperienced judges and the public. Let's have him enter the competition; with his skills, winning is no problem."
Shen Yancong frowned. "Winning the championship? Wouldn't that just fulfill her wish and let her bring out a 'culinary god'?"
"Your Highness, please be patient." Chen Yuanjing smiled confidently. "Winning the championship is only the first step. Once he takes first place, collects the bounty, and earns the title of 'Eastern Palace Royal Chef,' when he's at the height of his fame, we'll stage an 'accident.' For example, we'll have him suddenly die, and then search his home to find 'evidence' that he's secretly colluding with the Eastern Palace to poison the imperial banquet. By then, the Crown Prince and the Crown Princess won't just be buying people's hearts, but will be plotting something sinister, aiming to kill the king!"
Shen Yancong's eyes suddenly lit up. This plan was sinister and vicious, with each link linked together. If it succeeded, not only would the position of Crown Prince be lost, but the lives of Shen Yanzhi and Song Qingyuan would also be in jeopardy!
"Great! A great plan that kills two birds with one stone!" He clapped his hands and laughed. "That's it! Uncle, you arrange this matter yourself, and make sure it's flawless!"
"Don't worry, Your Highness." Chen Yuanjing bowed and accepted the order, a cruel smile on his lips.
East Palace, study.
Song Qingyuan was looking through the registration list for the cooking competition. It was a thick stack with more than five hundred chefs registered.
"It seems that there are quite a few gourmets in the capital." She said to Shen Yanzhi beside her with a smile, "Even the fire chief of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau has signed up, saying that he has unique experience in controlling the temperature of the fire."
Shen Yanzhi looked at her excited expression, his eyes also smiling. "The temptation of five hundred taels of gold is enough to make Buddha jump over the wall." He picked up a list and flipped through it casually, his eyes falling on a name, "Liu Yishou, the chief of Zuixianju?"
"Yeah, I noticed him too." Song Qingyuan nodded at the name. "He's very famous. His Huaiyang cuisine, which has reached the pinnacle of perfection, is the first choice for banquets hosted by many dignitaries in Beijing. His participation in the competition is somewhat unexpected."
“Behind Zuixianju is the Chen family.” Shen Yanzhi put down the roster, his tone was flat, but it lowered the temperature in the air a few degrees.
Song Qingyuan's smile faded. "I know. The weasel's greeting to the chicken has no good intentions."
"Aren't you worried?" Shen Yanzhi asked.
"What are you worried about?" Song Qingyuan looked up at him, her eyes bright. "Are you worried that they'll send someone to mess things up? Or are you worried that they'll play some tricks?" She snorted softly. "Since I dared to set up this trap, I'm not afraid of them joining in. The bigger the fish, the more interesting it is when it's hooked. I want to see what 'dish' the King of Wei and the Chen family want to add to this feast for me."
Her confidence wasn't blind. From the moment she decided to hold the competition, she anticipated the reaction of the King of Wei's faction. They would either sabotage it or exploit it. Sabotage simply meant creating chaos and damaging the competition's reputation, which was easy to prevent. Exploitation, on the other hand, would inevitably involve sending people deep into the fray, vying for first place and hoping for a lasting effect.
"I've already asked Tingyu to investigate this Liu Yishou, and to thoroughly investigate his entire family." Song Qingyuan closed the roster, confident in his thinking. "If the enemy comes, we will fight them; if the water comes, we will block it with earth. If they want to put on a show, I will set the stage. It all depends on whose show will win the most applause from the people of this city."
Shen Yanzhi watched her planning and strategizing, feeling both admiration and a hint of heartache. He held her hand, which was slightly cold to the touch.
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