Chapter 118 — A Fish Cooked at Home

CHAPTER 118

A Fish Cooked at Home

“Don't tell me its ancestors were famous,” Shi Feng said.

Peng Tao looked down at the fish in the wooden tub. Its silver scales flashed beneath a thin stream of water. He'd brought it from a relative's pond and spent the morning telling customers how fresh it was.

“It's a fish!” Peng Tao said. “What ancestors should it have?”

“Good,” Shi Feng replied. “I'll take it.”

The fishmonger counted out the price twice, suspicious that the purchase went so smoothly. His Qi Condensation cultivation couldn't make a fish more valuable, and Shi Feng wasn't paying for anyone's reputation today.

“You're not bargaining?” Peng Tao asked.

“You named a fair price,” Shi Feng replied.

Peng Tao looked troubled. He clearly wondered whether to remember a second, less fair price. Shi Feng picked up the covered tub before that thought could finish.

At the vegetable stall, he added green leaves, fresh ginger, and a little lotus root. The whole purchase cost less than the wine at Yuelan Terrace. This time, it also left enough money in his purse for everything already planned.

That pleased him greatly.

He thought, I should've bought a fish and kept the other two hundred stones. Unfortunately, the restaurant wouldn't have let me cook it on their table.

He went home smiling.

Ling Qingzhu lifted the cover before he could stop her. The fish jumped, splashing water onto her fingers.

She stepped back at once.

“It's alive!” Ling Qingzhu said.

“I was told it's fresh,” Shi Feng replied.

“Don't look so pleased,” Ling Qingzhu said, shaking water from her hand.

He passed her a cloth and carried the tub into the kitchen. She followed, keeping a respectful distance from the fish.

“What's the occasion?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

“I finished an order,” Shi Feng said.

“You finish orders every week,” Ling Qingzhu replied.

“Then I've been neglecting the fish,” Shi Feng said.

She leaned against the doorway and watched him work. He cleaned the fish quickly, washed the board, and set water to heat. There was no secret pill formula involved. He wanted a good supper with her, and he could afford to make it properly.

That was enough reason.

Ling Qingzhu reached for a knife. Shi Feng moved the lotus root toward her before she could attempt anything involving scales.

“Thin pieces,” Shi Feng said.

“I know how to cut a root,” Ling Qingzhu replied.

Her first piece was thick enough to stand upright. He looked at it. She looked at him.

“It'll be thinner after cooking,” Ling Qingzhu said.

Shi Feng took the knife and cut the piece in half. She watched closely, then held out her hand again.

The next slice was better. The one after it was almost the same thickness.

“There,” Ling Qingzhu said, satisfied.

“A great victory,” Shi Feng replied.

“You'd better eat every piece,” Ling Qingzhu said.

He promised that he would. She took the task seriously after that, although she still left him the difficult end of the root.

The little kitchen grew warm. Her violet sleeve kept slipping down, so he found a clean strip of cloth and tied it above her wrist. Ling Qingzhu held her arm still while he worked.

He didn't hurry to let go.

She didn't ask him to.

When the knot was finished, she lowered her eyes to the board. Shi Feng turned toward the stove with a smile he couldn't hide.

He was happy. There was no audience outside and no public appearance to maintain. They were simply making supper in a kitchen too small for two people who both insisted on standing near the board.

“Move your elbow,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“Move the root,” Shi Feng replied.

She moved the root.

They ate beneath the pear tree. Shi Feng served the fish with a shallow dish of clear sauce. Ling Qingzhu tried it before commenting on anything else.

Then she tried another piece.

“Well?” Shi Feng asked.

“It's acceptable,” Ling Qingzhu said.

He moved the serving dish toward himself. Her chopsticks immediately stopped him.

“I didn't say I was finished,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“I didn't say it was all yours,” Shi Feng replied.

She gave him a cold look and took another piece. Her smile appeared the moment she lowered her head.

Shi Feng ate one of her thick lotus slices. She watched until he swallowed it, then looked pleased with herself.

The evening breeze cooled the courtyard. Beyond the wall, carts rattled over the lane. Nobody knocked at their gate.

Ling Qingzhu tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned over to choose another piece of fish. Shi Feng watched the movement with his chopsticks raised.

“You’ll get hungry eating like that,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“I’m not hungry,” Shi Feng replied.

“Then why cook so much?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

“So you’ll sit here longer,” Shi Feng said.

Her fingers slowed over the plate. This time she didn’t call him foolish. She chose a smaller piece and ate it very slowly.

“You mentioned Artificer Hall,” Ling Qingzhu said. “What was the elder's name?”

“Xu Changhe,” Shi Feng replied.

She set her chopsticks down. He rarely volunteered anything about the things he practiced alone. Earlier, he only mentioned that an elder's teachings helped him. She wanted to know a little more about the man who taught him swordsmanship.

“What did he do there?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

“He was a former elder and sect enforcer,” Shi Feng replied. “He enforced the sect's rules with his sword.”

“Was he a great artifact crafter?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

“He was a swordsman,” Shi Feng said. “The ordinary repairs in his notes are useful. The sword art matters more.”

She looked toward the plain sheath hanging near the door. That explained the movements she'd seen him repeat long before the qualification.

“You want to follow him there,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“I want to see the place,” Shi Feng replied. “His teachings helped me. I haven't forgotten that.”

“Artificer Hall is weaker overall than the other two,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“Then its disciples should practice more,” Shi Feng replied.

She laughed before pressing her lips together.

“You make it sound simple,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“Choosing somewhere isn't difficult,” Shi Feng replied. “Getting there takes work.”

He didn't assume the regional tournament would hand him an inner disciple's place. He intended to earn the choice. His sword, cultivation, and alchemy were all things he could keep improving before then.

Ling Qingzhu turned her cup slowly.

“Hundred Flower Valley still interests me,” Ling Qingzhu said. “But I haven't decided.”

“What do you want there?” Shi Feng asked.

She took a little time before answering.

“People who speak to me about cultivation first,” Ling Qingzhu said. “Not my face, my family, or somebody who wants to marry me.”

Shi Feng nodded. That was a better reason than choosing whichever carriage looked grandest at the tournament.

“Then make them pay attention,” Shi Feng said.

“You think I can't?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

“I think you're still holding your chopsticks,” Shi Feng replied. “Don't waste good fish proving it.”

She looked down at them, then laughed. Her seriousness didn't disappear, though. He liked seeing it. Her life extended beyond their little courtyard, just as his did.

He wanted to hear what she'd choose when she was ready to say it.

“You have time,” Shi Feng replied.

She studied his face. He didn't tell her which sect would suit a woman or insist that she follow his choice. The decision remained hers.

That pleased her more than a flattering promise would've.

“Finish the fish before planning to conquer a sect,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“You took the best part,” Shi Feng replied.

She looked at her bowl, hesitated, then placed an untouched piece in his.

“There,” Ling Qingzhu said. “Don't complain.”

Shi Feng ate it without teasing her.

Afterward, she helped clear the table. He washed the dishes while she dried them, checking the chipped plate before putting it away.

There were still commissions to finish and pills he wanted to practice. He would do those things. But tonight, he didn't feel any need to rush away from her.

Ling Qingzhu untied the cloth from her sleeve. Instead of leaving it beside the stove, she folded it neatly and put it away.

Shi Feng watched for a moment, then returned to the bowls. He wanted to cook for her again tomorrow—before the thirty-day road to Qingyun City tested how much of this quiet kitchen could survive outside the gate.