On their wedding night, the prince of an enemy kingdom lifted the bride’s veil, only to see a pair of hands used to holding ladles and knives.
“A princess?” he sneered.
I presented him with a bowl of osmanthus soup. “Your Highness, even a cook’s hands can win the hearts of the world.”
From a bowl of soup, I could see through people’s hearts. From a wisp of smoke, I could uncover military secrets.
They say beautiful women bring disaster, but they do not know that in the kitchen, one can cook up a kingdom and shape the course of history.
