Five Years After My Death, the Mad Emperor Still Summons My Spirit

"What do you think of this? ’Plum blossoms herald the coming of spring; melting snow marks the end of winter’s chill.’ Think it could place in the competition at Ming’s Restaurant?"

"Mrs. Ming already said the theme is summer. What does any of that have to do with summer? Hahaha, you must have misread the announcement."

"How about my line? ’Midsummer night, the low drone of cicadas...’"

Jiang Yuchuan tilted his head and stepped forward to ask, "Is Ming’s Restaurant holding another event?"

His sudden arrival silenced the several clerks who had been happily discussing just a moment ago.

Then someone snapped out of it and replied, "Lord Jiang, an attendant from Ming’s Restaurant was outside handing out announcements for the event today. We only found out when we went out for lunch. Would you like to see?"

By now, probably no one in the Ministry of Justice was unaware that this young Lord Shaoqing was fond of treating himself at Ming’s Restaurant. Not long ago, he had even invited several colleagues to go with him.

Indeed, it was because Jiang Yuchuan had treated his colleagues to a meal that many people at the Ministry of Justice came to know of Ming’s Restaurant. Even some who weren’t well-acquainted with him, after hearing others praise the food, made their way to Huaided Fang to try it for themselves.

Ming’s Restaurant, whose food could rival even some of the expensive establishments in the East Market, instantly became all the rage throughout the Ministry of Justice.

And if it was all the rage in the Ministry of Justice, could it be long before it took all the government offices in Shangjing City by storm?

Ming Lingyi had no idea that lately, aside from the students of the Imperial College, the most frequent patrons of her restaurant were officials of all ranks from the Capital City, who changed into common clothes after finishing their duties.

Especially after yesterday, when a rumor had started to circulate that the current Emperor had been seen at Ming’s Restaurant.

The rumor was unsubstantiated, of course. After all, many of the officials who frequented Ming’s Restaurant weren’t high-ranking enough. It was never their turn to be granted an audience during the smaller court sessions, so how could they have ever seen the Emperor’s face?

But with a rumor like that, quite a few people were keen to go and try their luck at noon today.

Learning today that Ming’s Restaurant was also holding a "Poetry for Food" event was a genuine surprise.

Jiang Yuchuan took the "announcement" and could tell at a glance that the handwriting was indeed Ming Lingyi’s.

Recalling that Ming Lingyi had asked him for a favor yesterday, Jiang Yuchuan had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

He chuckled softly, thinking how Ming Lingyi’s mind was full of ideas an ordinary person would never imagine.

He didn’t know that Ming Lingyi’s move was intended to compete with the Wangxian Building, but that didn’t stop him from supporting her.

"I have something else to attend to today, so I won’t be going. You all go ahead," Jiang Yuchuan said.

When the group from the Ministry of Justice arrived at Ming’s Restaurant, the area outside was already bustling with activity.

Upon hearing the news, many students from the Imperial College had snuck out after their classes ended, just to participate in the competition at Ming’s Restaurant.

The prize Ming Lingyi was offering was simply too enticing.

Of course, scholars might also have that touch of "lofty detachment"—that same "lofty detachment" that made them want to prove their own extraordinary talents.

Yesterday, Li Yan had been fully released from his confinement in the Eastern Palace by his father, allowing him to attend classes at the Imperial College.

This move wasn’t because Li Yun wanted to give Li Yan freedom, but because he needed a "spy"—a legitimate, out-in-the-open spy to keep by Ming Lingyi’s side.

Yesterday, in the carriage on the way back to the palace, this most noble father and son duo of the Dayan Dynasty had engaged in a profound discussion—which was also a transaction.

"Father Emperor, you want to know how Mother has been doing, don’t you? Your son has a way," Li Yan had ventured, guessing when he realized a gloomy aura was radiating from his father.

"As long as you let me attend the Imperial College, I can visit Mother after school every day and bring you news of her. And..." Li Yan blinked. "You must be fond of Mother’s cooking too, right? Whenever I go to the restaurant, she always sends me home with lots of things. I can share them with you."

As he said this, Li Yan clutched the three-tiered food box in his arms.

It was filled with all sorts of good things.

If his father would let him continue at the Imperial College, he could see his mother every day. He found that sharing a little with his father in the meantime was an acceptable price to pay.

’Anyway, as long as I can get out of the palace, seeing Mother is the most important thing.’

Li Yun let Li Yan leave the palace so that he could keep an eye on Jiang Yuchuan.

Ming Lingyi forbade him from meddling in her affairs, but she was about to find someone new. How could he just stand by and do nothing?

For the past five years, he had been in a muddle, barely surviving by relying on the Summoning Soul ritual.

Now, his Yuan Niang had returned, but she was going to spend the rest of her life with another man. ’I can’t let her go.’

When Li Yan heard about the poetry event at Ming’s Restaurant today, he came over with his classmates after school.

He found it very interesting and was eager to give it a try, wanting to sign up as well.

Even though he never had to spend any silver to eat whenever he came to his mother’s place, Li Yan just wanted to join in on the fun.

Initially, there were some at the Imperial College who were subtly opposed to the idea.

"We are all scholars! How can we debase ourselves for ten days of free meals? How is this any different from bowing for five pecks of rice?"

"Exactly! Studying and composing poetry should be done as the heart desires. It’s supposed to be an elegant pursuit, but now, to be so casual about it just for a bite to eat—it’s a disgrace to our scholarly dignity!"

It was just as he heard these words that Li Yan, with his hands clasped behind his back, sauntered forward on his short little legs. He walked up to Shi Mingyue, who was in charge of registration, and announced in a very serious tone, "Miss Ming Yue, I want to sign up!"

The Crown Prince himself had just signed up. Instantly, the two sides of the previously tense standoff fell silent.

The group of students who felt that composing poetry for ten days of free meals was improper looked particularly conflicted when they heard Li Yan’s voice.

Shi Mingyue, who was usually expressionless, almost burst out laughing at the sight.

Although she didn’t laugh out loud, a deep amusement was hidden in her eyes.

Just moments ago, listening to those Imperial College students drone on about a "disgrace to scholarly dignity," Shi Mingyue had felt as if someone had released eight hundred ducks by her ear, QUACK QUACKING nonstop. If she weren’t at the restaurant and didn’t want to ruin business, she really felt like grabbing "a chicken in her left hand and a duck in her right" and just picking up this whole crowd and tossing them out.

The silence was broken when Shi Mingyue finished registering Li Yan’s name and was about to ask him to compose a poem. The group of Imperial College students who had been shouting about it being a "disgrace to scholarly dignity" stepped forward to stop them.

"Young Master, this sort of thing is simply beneath you. Your status is noble, why must you do this?"

Li Yan’s identity was no secret at the Imperial College. And when the Emperor had tossed the Crown Prince into the Imperial College, it didn’t seem that he wanted the teachers and students to treat him any differently.

Li Yan raised an eyebrow. "People are born needing to eat and wear clothes. What’s so shameful about that? Let me ask you, why do you study? Isn’t it a means to make a living? And isn’t the most basic part of making a living filling your stomach? How is it ’beneath my station’ to use my knowledge in exchange for a meal?"