My brother entrusted his child to me, and I livestreamed raising the baby, making the Empress cry wi

It was just a simple breakfast.

[Li De, Imperial Kitchen: This… what kind of porridge is this?! I've been making porridge for thirty years and I've never seen grains of this color before! This isn't millet, nor is it beans… it's golden! How can there be golden grains in this world?! I've wasted these thirty years… a full thirty years!]

[Cheng Liang, Vice Minister of Revenue: I have been in charge of the nation's granaries for twenty years. I can recognize every type of grain in the Great Flame Kingdom with my eyes closed. Millet, barley, wheat, beans... but I've never seen anything like this before... It does resemble millet, but it's much finer! And its color is golden! What kind of crop is this?!]

[Master Feng Zhiyuan of Xiaoshan Academy: I have read all the agricultural books in the world. I can recite the varieties of grains recorded in those books by heart—but I have never seen anything like this! Golden grains! This…is this a seed that fell from the sky?!]

[Grain Shop Owner Wang: Good heavens! This grain is so golden, like gold! If I could buy a batch to sell, wouldn't all the rich people fight tooth and nail for it?]

[Imperial Physician Zhang Zhonghe: Rice oil is the essence of porridge, and it is extremely nourishing. Ordinary porridge that produces a thin layer of rice oil is already considered high-quality. This bowl… this rice oil is so thick! What kind of grain must it be, and how much rice must have been used to extract such essence?!]

……

Xiao Bo's spoon fell into the bowl with a "plop," and the orange-yellow and white milk millet porridge exploded like a firework, splashing all over his face—his chin, the tip of his nose, his eyebrows, everywhere was covered with sticky rice grains.

But he didn't wipe it.

He didn't even realize it.

Only one thought occupied my mind—

What is that?

Liangzhou, second floor of Fulai Inn.

Sun Fugui, a merchant, held his ladle in mid-air. In front of him was a bowl of bean porridge, with soup dripping down the edge of the ladle, leaving dark stains on the table.

His mouth was open, and the spoonful of porridge was only an inch away from his lips, but he stubbornly refused to put it in.

"Golden yellow..." he murmured to himself, the voice seeming to be squeezed from his throat, "How can there be golden yellow grain in this world?"

The second wave has arrived.

It's a basket of small steamed buns.

The buns were only the size of a baby's fist, plump and round, crammed into the steamer.

But their shapes—

Everyone's eyes widened at the same time, like pairs of copper bells poking their faces.

Some of them look like little pigs.

Its ears are thin and slightly upturned. Its nose has two small, round nostrils, giving it an endearing, simple appearance.

Some of them look like chicks.

It has a bright red crest on its head. The patterns on its wings are clearly defined and lifelike, as if it is about to flap its wings and fly out of the steamer at any moment.

Some of them look like little rabbits.

Its two long ears stood upright, with a pale pink tinge inside. Its eyes, made of some kind of pigment, were round and bright, shimmering under the light.

[Master Liu, the chef in the Imperial Kitchen: How were these pastries made?! Those ears, that nose, those wings, were all pinched on bit by bit? What kind of skill does that take? I've been making pastries for thirty years, and I consider myself the best pastry chef in the Great Flame Kingdom—this…this…]

[Pastry Chef Wang: Good heavens! This isn't food! It's more exquisite than any dough sculpture I've ever seen! I've made longevity peaches and dough figurines for distinguished guests, but compared to this, those are just clay!]

[Zhao Hu, a servant in the government office: My wife can also make dough figurines, but the pigs she makes look like toads! And these steamed buns… these steamed buns look more like they're alive than real ones!]

……

In front of Wang's noodle shop in the capital.

Grandma Wang plopped down on the threshold, supporting herself with both hands on the ground, her fingers digging into the cracks in the bricks until her knuckles turned white.

Her lips drooped, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"I've been making pastries for forty years..." Her voice trembled, as if there was a wad of cotton stuck in her throat, "Forty years! And I even told people I was the best pastry chef in the capital... How could I have the nerve to say that!"

Old Zhou, who sells tofu nearby, craned his neck to look at the sky, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "Aunt Wang, that...that's something a human could make! It must be the work of a deity!"

"Immortals?" Granny Wang gave a bitter smile and murmured, "It must be! Those buns... they looked like they were made from real animals! How could we mortals have such skill except for immortals..."

The third wave has arrived.

First up was a plate of crystal shrimp dumplings.

That skin—

Its skin was as thin as a cicada's wing.

It's translucent, semi-transparent, and you can clearly see the pink shrimp inside—each one plump and round, with even the shrimp's texture clearly visible.

The skin is pinched with fine pleats, circle after circle, as delicate as a pink daisy bud about to bloom.

There are also golden and crispy egg tarts, made in small sizes, but with layers of flaky pastry as thin as book pages, layer upon layer, at least dozens of layers, stacked together.

In the middle is a pale yellow egg liquid, trembling slightly, as if it's about to flow out at any moment, making you want to open your mouth wide to catch it.

The steamed spare ribs with black bean sauce are arranged on a plate, their rich, glossy color resembling a layer of honey. Each rib is coated with a thick sauce that gleams amber under the light, so viscous it can be pulled into threads.

Finally, there was a plate of blanched bok choy, its vibrant green color neatly arranged like a row of soldiers awaiting inspection, or a handful of raw jade stones just unearthed from a mine, so green and dazzlingly bright.

[Song Wen, Compiler of the Hanlin Academy: That shrimp…it’s a whole one! And so big! Our Great Yan Kingdom only has large shrimp in the South China Sea, and we only get a few baskets a year, all for His Majesty’s consumption. And inside…that dumpling contains a whole shrimp!? There must be more than ten of them on this plate!?]

[Uncle Chen, a fisherman from the South China Sea: I've been fishing all my life, and the best shrimp I've ever seen is red shrimp. But the shrimp in those dumplings... are bigger than the biggest red shrimp I've ever seen! Good heavens! How big must the shrimp be to peel such large shrimp meat?!]

[Meng Lingyu, Registrar of Jingdian Pavilion: Those layers of flaky pastry, so many! They look thinner than pages of a book! When we make flaky pastries, we're considered experts if we can stack seven or eight layers, and there are probably no more than three people in the entire Great Flame Kingdom who can stack ten layers! That thing... must have at least dozens of layers! Dozens of layers! Is this something a human could make?! It must have been made by a god!?]

[Liu San, chef at Fu Dao Restaurant: Did you see the sauce on those ribs?! Good heavens! The color! The shine! I've been cooking for over ten years, and I've never seen sauce that shiny!]

[Farmer Aunt Zhao: Those greens... how can those greens be so green?! The greens grown in our village, even the freshly picked ones in spring aren't this green! In this freezing weather, where did these fresh greens come from?! They look like they were just picked!]

……

Inside Jingdian Pavilion, the largest pastry shop in the capital.

Meng Lingyu's hands were trembling.