On the fifth day of the twelfth lunar month, at a quarter to seven in the morning, Jiang Wan's hand paused in midair, her fingers pinching her spoon. Steam rose from the bowl of yam and pork rib soup, carrying with it a faint, almost imperceptible hint of bitterness. She pursed her lips slightly. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Wang Wu, the newly hired cook, wiping sweat from his brow as he hid behind a veranda pillar. A few specks of grayish-green powder clung to his coarse cloth apron.
"Lüluo," she said, setting down the soup bowl and letting her fingertips brush against its rim. "Keep a sample of today's meal and bring it to my study."
"Does my Lady feel there is something wrong with the food?" Lüluo stepped closer, lowering her voice. "This cook only arrived yesterday. I heard he is a distant relative of the Third Branch..."
Chapter 134