Qi Yu had gone seven whole days without braised pork. No one would have believed it. The reigning emperor's fourth prince, his most beloved youngest son, someone with a permanent spot on the imperial bed in Xuanzheng Hall, could not get so much as a bite of braised pork. But it was true. Ever since he had gnawed through an entire hundred-year-old ginseng root as though it were a radish, the meals at Yuning Hall had been strictly controlled. The diet prescribed by the imperial physician was posted beside Chun He's dressing case, its dense writing covering more than half a sheet: no greasy foods, no spicy foods, no potent tonics, no raw or cold foods. Chun He treated that sheet like an imperial decree, following it strictly for all three meals every day. When A Ping went to the Imperial Kitchen to collect the dishes, the cooks had to list every seasoning used in each dish and confirm there were no forbidden ingredients before daring to pack it into the food carrier.
On the first day, Qi Yu had puffed out his chest and said he could do without it; congee was perfectly fine anyway. On the second day, he had started circling the Imperial Kitchen and been smilingly escorted back by De'an. On the third day, he had secretly sent A Ping outside the palace to buy sugar-roasted chestnuts, only for De'an to stop A Ping at the palace gates and search him from head to toe. On the fourth day, he had sought Qin Wei's help. Qin Wei had glanced at him and said, "Your Highness, you'd better just behave and drink your congee," without the slightest intention of even stealing a steamed bun from the Imperial Kitchen for him. On the fifth day, he had tried