DLERB -Chapter 64 Potato Beef Stew?

The carriage curtain dropped.

Inside the imperial carriage, the light dimmed.

Qin Shi Huang said nothing.

His tall figure loomed like a mountain, pressing the air in the carriage into stillness.

Ying Ziye sat opposite him, his short legs gently swinging.

He also stayed silent.

Time passed slowly.

The sound of the rolling wheels was dull and monotonous.

Suddenly—

“Grrr—”

An ill-timed sound broke the silence.

Ying Ziye covered his little stomach.

He raised his head and looked at Qin Shi Huang.

“Father Emperor,” he said.

“I’m hungry.”

Qin Shi Huang’s tense body relaxed.

He looked at his son’s innocent face.

All the imperial schemes, suspicions, and probing thoughts vanished without a trace.

He issued an order outside the carriage.

“Change route.”

“Go to the side hall of Zhangtai Palace.”

“Prepare a meal.”

The imperial kitchen in the side hall was in chaos.

A group of top imperial chefs stood around several baskets, exchanging confused looks.

In one basket were yellowish, dirt-covered lumps.

In another were thick green-skinned stalks with fibrous roots.

Most shocking of all was a large slab of raw, bloody meat with bone still attached.

Beef.

“This… how are we supposed to cook this?” one chef almost cried.

“His Highness only said to use these ingredients for dinner—he didn’t say how!”

“Killing an ox is a capital crime!”

“Shh! Lower your voice! Didn’t you hear His Majesty say the ox died on its own?”

Just as they were completely at a loss—

Ying Ziye walked in with his hands behind his back.

“What are you all standing around for?” he asked in a soft, childish voice.

The chefs trembled and all knelt immediately.

“Greetings, Your Highness!”

Ying Ziye walked up to the pile of ingredients.

He pointed at the potatoes.

“This one—wash it, peel it, and cut it into chunks.”

Then he pointed at the beef.

“This one—also cut into chunks.”

“Then put the two ingredients into one pot, add water, add salt, and stew over high heat.”

“Stew it until it’s falling apart!”

Simple and brutal.

The imperial chefs were completely stunned.

That’s it?

No complicated steps? No rare spices or ingredients?

An older imperial chef, relying on his seniority in the palace, cautiously asked:

“Your Highness… w-will this actually taste good?”

Ying Ziye turned his head and looked at him.

“Are you teaching me how to do things?”

Cold sweat immediately broke out on the chef’s back.

“This servant wouldn’t dare! This servant wouldn’t dare!”

Ying Ziye waved his small hand.

“Then hurry up and make it!”

“In one hour, I want a bowl of stewed meat and this thing, roasted, on the table.”

He pointed at the corn.

“If you delay Father Emperor’s meal…”

He didn’t say what would happen.

But the temperature in the entire imperial kitchen seemed to drop by several degrees.

“Yes! Yes!”

The chefs scrambled away in panic, not daring to say another word.

One hour later.

On the table in the side hall were two dishes.

A steaming bowl of stewed meat, rich with aroma.

And a few ears of corn, roasted until golden brown.

That was all.

Qin Shi Huang sat at the main seat, looking at the dishes with a slightly dazed expression.

In his daily meals, he usually had dozens upon dozens of dishes—bells ringing, cauldrons full, a royal feast of overwhelming luxury.

And today… this?

A return to hardship to remember simplicity?

A newly promoted eunuch chief stepped forward.

Bowing deeply, he said in a sharp voice:

“Your Majesty, according to Qin law, oxen are a vital national resource and may not be slaughtered without cause…”

Before he could finish—

Qin Shi Huang shot him a glance.

There was no killing intent, no anger.

Only calm indifference.

The eunuch’s voice stuck in his throat.

His legs went weak, and he collapsed to his knees, trembling all over.

Qin Shi Huang ignored him.

He looked toward Ying Ziye.

Ying Ziye picked up a spoon, scooped a piece of soft, tender potato, and placed it into Qin Shi Huang’s bowl.

“Father Emperor, please try it.”

“When the ox was going down the mountain, it accidentally fell and died. It has nothing to do with us.”

Qin Shi Huang said nothing.

He picked up a piece of potato.

The yellow chunk had absorbed the meat juices and looked unremarkable.

He put it into his mouth.

A light press of the tongue.

The soft, glutinous texture instantly melted across his taste buds.

An unfamiliar sweetness—starch blended with meat fragrance—filled his entire mouth.

More importantly—

After swallowing that piece of potato, a warm and heavy feeling of fullness immediately rose from his stomach.

Qin Shi Huang’s chewing stopped.

His expression froze.

This thing…

Was a hundred times better in texture than any rice or wheat he had ever eaten.

And just a small piece was so filling!

Ying Ziye picked up a roasted ear of corn and handed it over.

“Father Emperor, there’s also this.”

Qin Shi Huang accepted it mechanically.

He imitated Ying Ziye and took a bite from the golden kernels.

“Crack.”

The thin outer skin burst open.

A burst of scorching, sweet juice exploded in his mouth.

It was a pure sweetness—clean, refreshing, and entirely natural from the plant itself.

Sweeter than honey, fresher than preserved fruit.

Qin Shi Huang froze again.

He looked at the corn in his hand, then at the potatoes in the bowl.

He felt as though decades of his understanding were being overturned.

Ying Ziye watched his reaction and chuckled.

He raised a finger.

“Father Emperor, one mu of land planted with millet, worked to exhaustion, yields only a little over one dan.”

“That’s only enough to feed a family for half a year.”

He then raised five fingers.

“But one mu of land planted with this potato can yield fifty dan!”

“That’s enough for a family of five to eat freely for a whole year—and still have surplus.”

He picked up another ear of corn.

“And this corn isn’t just for eating.”

“Its stalks, when dried, make the best horse fodder.”

“Ten times better than what we use now.”

“One mu of corn stalks can let a warhorse run ten more li.”

Ying Ziye’s voice was not loud.

But every word struck Qin Shi Huang like a heavy hammer.

Fifty dan!

The best horse fodder!

Qin Shi Huang’s breathing grew rapid.

He looked at the food on the table.

It was no longer food.

It was the countless starving Qin citizens.

It was the logistical foundation of a million iron cavalry capable of crushing the entire world.

“Ha…”

Qin Shi Huang suddenly laughed.

He grabbed his chopsticks and began shoveling the potato beef stew into his mouth in big mouthfuls.

Grease covered his lips.

“HAHAHAHA!!”

He ate while laughing.

His laughter grew louder and louder, echoing through the entire great hall.

And as he laughed—

Two lines of hot tears slid down from the corners of his eyes.

He was crying.

The First Emperor, who had unified the Six Kingdoms and remained unmoved even when Mount Tai collapsed before him, was now crying like a child.

He wasn’t eating a meal.

He was eating hope.

The hope of immortality.

The hope of an eternal empire.

Ying Ziye watched quietly without interrupting him.

After a long while.

The laughter and crying both stopped.

Qin Shi Huang put down his chopsticks.

He picked up a cloth and wiped his face.

All the earlier excitement and frenzy vanished completely.

What replaced it was an unfathomable calm—and absolute seriousness.

He waved his hand.

“All of you, leave.”

The eunuch chief, as if granted amnesty, crawled and stumbled out in relief.

All the palace maids and attendants silently disappeared.

The doors of the hall slowly closed.

Inside, only father and son remained.

Candlelight flickered, stretching their shadows long across the floor.

Qin Shi Huang looked at Ying Ziye.

Those eyes that had witnessed countless storms and ages now fixed on him, as if trying to see through his skin and into his soul.

He spoke.

His voice was hoarse, but carried undeniable authority.

“Ziye.”

“You’ve done all this…”

“What exactly do you want?”