Ghost in the palace-Chapter 40: a bowl

Morning sunlight spilled through the lattice windows, painting faint gold patterns across the polished floor.

The palace had awakened with its usual rhythm—maids whispering in corridors, the distant sound of bells marking the hour, the faint scent of sandalwood from the temple courtyard.

Ananya sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. The echoes of last night’s chaos had finally faded, replaced by a rare calm.

Her body still ached, but her mind was sharp.

The Emperor hadn’t spoken to her since their return.

Fine. She didn’t need his words.

Today, she had another task in mind.

"The Dowager must know I’ve returned," she murmured, tying her hair into a neat knot. "But she’s not the kind to send for me first."

Fen Yu floated beside her, twirling a strand of her own ghostly hair. "You’re going to her again? She doesn’t like anyone."

"Then I’ll give her a reason to," Ananya replied.

She walked toward the small side kitchen attached to her quarters—one few nobles ever entered, but one she loved.

Inside, the air was still and faintly dusty from disuse.

Ananya rolled up her sleeves, lighting the small brazier herself.

"We’ll make something easy," she said softly. "Simple, warm, healing."

The ingredients were humble: lotus seeds, longan fruit, a few slices of ginseng, and honey from the palace apiary.

She washed and simmered them slowly, the faint sweet scent curling through the air.

Fen Yu leaned over the pot, eyes shining. "It smells heavenly!"

Wei Rong sniffed exaggeratedly. "If the old bat doesn’t like it, I’ll drink it myself."

Li Shen gave them both a disapproving glance. "Behave. This is diplomacy, not dessert."

Ananya smiled faintly. "You three can haunt a battlefield, but not a kitchen."

She stirred the tonic, watching the liquid turn a soft amber hue. "The Dowager once had lung ailments—this will soothe her breath and heart. Food can do what words cannot."

By midmorning, she carried the porcelain tray herself, refusing servants’ help.

The bowl of tonic steamed gently, the honeyed aroma soft yet clean.

The Phoenix Pavilion stood as grand and cold as ever, sunlight glinting off its golden tiles.

Ananya entered, bowing deeply when she reached the inner chamber.

"Your daughter-in-law greets the Mother of the Empire."

The Dowager Empress sat on a raised couch, robed in pale crimson silk. Her expression was unreadable as she looked down.

"You returned yesterday. I heard there was... trouble on the road."

Ananya bowed again. "It was resolved, thanks to Heaven’s grace."

The Dowager’s tone was cool. "And yet you still find time to play the kitchen maid?"

Ananya didn’t flinch. "Yes, Your Majesty. Some lessons are worth learning twice."

She placed the tray on a low table, pushing it forward. "This is lotus and ginseng tonic. It helps the lungs and clears fatigue. I wished to greet you properly for allowing me to return."

The Dowager eyed the bowl without reaching for it. "You think sweet broth will change what I think of you?"

"No," Ananya said simply. "But maybe it’ll remind you I mean no harm."

For a long moment, silence stretched. The only sound was the slow bubbling of the tonic as it cooled.

Then, with a faint sigh, the Dowager lifted the spoon.

She sipped once.

Her brows relaxed, almost imperceptibly.

"This tastes..." The Dowager paused, searching for words she wasn’t used to saying.

"...like home."

Ananya’s lips curved in quiet amusement. "Then it succeeded."

The old woman gave her a sharp look, but there was less frost in her eyes now. "You were braver than expected during the Purity Rite. And now you cook. Tell me, what is it you want from me?"

Ananya bowed her head. "Nothing, Mother of the Empire. Only that the palace breathes easier when there’s less bitterness."

The Dowager huffed softly, but her gaze softened for just a heartbeat before she turned away.

"Leave the tray," she said. "And don’t think I’ll compliment you again."

Ananya smiled. "One was enough."

Outside the pavilion, Fen Yu twirled excitedly. "She liked it!"

Wei Rong grinned. "If she doesn’t admit it, her empty bowl will."

Li Shen’s voice was calm, approving. "A battle won without blood."

Ananya walked slowly down the marble steps, sunlight warming her face.

She had expected scolding, perhaps cold words, but she had not expected the faint tremor in the Dowager’s voice—like home.

It wasn’t victory.

But it was a beginning.

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