There was a private kitchen within the inner residence, divided into two sections: a large one and a small one. The small kitchen was dedicated solely to the meals of Henry Clark and Emily Foster. Henry Clark first went into the small kitchen, but after searching it thoroughly, he couldn’t find even a trace of meat. It seemed that Emily Foster was truly committed to vegetarianism. In the end, he went next door to the large kitchen where food was prepared for the servants, and finally found a piece of pork tenderloin—good quality, at that. It was probably bought by one of the housekeepers for her own use. After all, pork was considered cheap meat in the Song Dynasty, eaten only by the poor; anyone with even a bit of status would disdain eating pork.

Henry Clark didn’t care about such distinctions. For someone who had eaten nothing but vegetables and tofu for nearly a month, not to mention pork—even his own arm sometimes looked appetizing. The people of the Song Dynasty didn’t like pork for two reasons: first, they thought pigs were ugly and dirty animals, always rolling in the mud, and thus rejected by the upper class; second, people of this era didn’t really know how to cook pork, and even stir-frying wasn’t yet common, so it was impossible to make good dishes from pork. It wasn’t until more than a decade later, when Su Dongpo popularized Dongpo Pork, that pork was truly accepted by the world.

Henry Clark washed the tenderloin clean, then searched both kitchens again, worried that the seasonings of the Northern Song might differ from those of later times. As expected, many seasonings from later eras were nowhere to be found—he didn’t know if the palace hadn’t stocked them, or if they simply hadn’t been invented yet.

Although the seasonings weren’t complete, the main ones—salt, sugar, vinegar, soy sauce, and flavorings like scallions, ginger, and garlic—were available. After thinking for a moment, Henry Clark decided to make sweet and sour pork tenderloin to satisfy his craving. It was one of his favorite dishes from his previous life.

He sliced the tenderloin, then cracked two eggs, added flour and water, and mixed it all together. Normally, this step would also require some cornstarch, but there was none to be found in the kitchen, so he had to make do.

Once the meat was prepared, he added oil to the pan and fried the slices over low heat, ideally frying them several times so the outside would be crispy and the inside tender. But not too much, or the meat would become tough. While frying the meat, Henry Clark mixed sugar, vinegar, salt, scallions, and ginger to make the sweet and sour sauce. When the meat was done, he took it out to drain the oil, left a bit of oil in the pan, then added the sauce and meat back in to stir-fry together. This was the most challenging part: if stir-fried too briefly, the meat would be a bit tough; too long, and it would lose its crispy-tender texture. It had taken Henry Clark a long time to master this.

Henry Clark plated the finished sweet and sour pork, the aroma making his mouth water. Even though he had traveled nearly a thousand years into the past, his cooking skills hadn’t diminished at all.

But just as Henry Clark was holding the plate, leaning over it and inhaling deeply with no regard for his princely image, the kitchen door suddenly opened. In walked Emily Foster with several maids and old women, including the little maid who usually served Henry Clark. She looked half-asleep, her eyes still drowsy.

“You… what are you all doing here?” Henry Clark blushed bright red and stammered. For a dignified prince to be caught sneaking food—Henry Clark wished he could crawl into a hole.

Emily Foster looked at Henry Clark with a calm expression, but there was a hint of disdain and contempt in her eyes. For a prince to enter the kitchen and cook for the sake of a little craving—such a thing could only be done by Henry Clark in all of Tokyo. Any other noble would rather starve than demean themselves in this way.

In truth, Emily Foster couldn’t really be blamed. Men cooking was perfectly normal in later times, but in the Song Dynasty, it was considered extremely shameful, especially among scholars and the nobility. They could accept a man being homosexual or even a pedophile, but could not accept a prince personally cooking. Emily Foster had been raised with aristocratic values, and her views reflected those of most nobles.

At this moment, a woman in her fifties stepped out from behind Emily Foster, her face plastered with a fake smile as she said to Henry Clark, “Your Highness, the kitchen is a lowly place, not somewhere you should be. Please return to your room and rest; leave the cleaning up to us old women.”

As she spoke, the woman took the plate of sweet and sour pork from Henry Clark’s hands and stepped aside to let him pass. Although Henry Clark was heartbroken over the dish he had just made, he was too embarrassed to stay, and even more embarrassed to ask for the dish back. On top of that, Emily Foster’s gaze made him very uncomfortable, so he could only leave the kitchen, looking thoroughly disgruntled.

“Nanny, you’ve always been in charge of the kitchen. From today on, assign more people to keep watch—don’t let the prince sneak in again. And no one is to speak of this, or you’ll be punished according to family law!” After Henry Clark left, Emily Foster finally spoke to the woman who had just addressed him. As she finished, her sharp gaze swept over the maids and old women accompanying her. No matter how much she disliked Henry Clark, she was now the Princess Consort of Guangyang, united with Henry Clark as husband and wife. If Henry Clark lost face, she would be ridiculed as well, so she issued a strict gag order to those around her.