The success of their trip to the agricultural market seemed to ignite a new, dangerously ambitious spark in Xue Lian. After a day spent resting and allowing Lan Yue to recover from the exertion of their outing, the Empress made a grand and terrifying declaration.
"Tonight," she announced, standing in the doorway of the manor's library where Lan Yue was quietly reading, "we will not be dining on Healer Lin's medicinal grass broth or the bland, catered fare of the manor's spirits."
Lan Yue looked up, a sense of deep foreboding settling upon her. "And what, precisely, will we be dining on?"
A look of immense, unearned confidence shone on Xue Lian's face. "Tonight, my dear Yue, I shall prepare a meal myself. A true mortal feast, using our newly procured assets."
Lan Yue slowly closed her book. She considered the woman before her. The entire Luminous Dynasty spoke in hushed, reverent tones of the Empress's culinary genius, of the revolutionary feasts that had emerged from her private kitchens and changed palace cuisine forever. Lan Yue had always been faintly impressed, assuming it was yet another of her lover's myriad, impossible talents.
"Your Majesty intends to cook?" Lan Yue asked, her tone carefully neutral. "Personally?"
"Of course," Xue Lian said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "How difficult can it be? It is merely applied chemistry. I have conceived of the recipes; executing them should be a simple matter of following my own brilliant instructions."
It was in that moment that a long-buried memory surfaced for Lan Yue. A passing comment from a palace servant years ago, something about the Empress's "theoretical contributions" to the kitchen and the "practical expertise" of the head chef. The truth dawned on her with the force of a divine revelation.
The Empress of the Luminous Dynasty, celebrated culinary genius, had never actually cooked a meal herself. She was a theorist. An idea woman. She gave commands and described flavors, and a team of the realm's most skilled chefs made them a reality.
"Lian," Lan Yue said, her voice full of a gentle, cautious doubt that was entirely new to this particular subject, "are you certain that is wise? The kitchen staff here is said to be very capable."
Xue Lian's pride was visibly piqued. "Nonsense," she scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "I have overseen the creation of banquets for thousands. Preparing a single meal for two will be a trivial exercise. I have read the recipes. I am an Empress. I can conquer a chicken."
An hour later, the magnificent, dark-stoned kitchen of Blackwood Manor had been transformed into a warzone, and the chicken was decisively winning.
Lan Yue sat at a large wooden table in the center of the room, a cup of tea in her hand, having been ordered to "observe the master at work." In reality, she was witnessing the most entertaining and horrifying spectacle of her life, a secret about her beloved that was more shocking than any political conspiracy.
Xue Lian, wearing a pristine white apron over her elegant violet robes, was a study in chaotic, theoretical determination. She attempted to chop carrots with the swift, precise strokes of a sword master, a technique which resulted in perfectly diced carrot projectiles embedding themselves in the far wall. She misread her own notes on measurements, adding a "pinch" of a fiery mortal chili powder that was the equivalent of a whole handful, sending her into a fit of undignified, explosive sneezes.
"This is not burning!" she declared, waving a cloud of thick, black smoke away from a sizzling pan. "It is… a traditional wok-hei technique. Very advanced. It imparts a smoky essence."
"Of course it is, Your Majesty," Lan Yue replied, her voice perfectly deadpan as she watched the "essence" set off the smoke alarm for the third time. "The entire manor can now enjoy the rich, charcoal-like aroma of your 'advanced technique'."
The variables are inconsistent! Xue Lian's thought echoed through their Soul-Bond, her frustration a palpable wave of academic outrage. The scrolls did not account for this level of thermal volatility! This chicken is an uncooperative subject!
Lan Yue took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea. Perhaps it is a free-range chicken, she sent back, her own thought laced with a serene, smug amusement that made Xue Lian shoot her a venomous glare from across the room. It resists confinement, even in a pot.
The chaos reached its peak when an attempt to flambé a dish according to a "theoretical flame-point calculation" resulted in a pillar of purple demonic fire that singed her eyebrows. Defeated, Xue Lian stood in the center of the smoke-filled, flour-dusted kitchen, a wooden spoon in her hand like a surrendered scepter, looking utterly betrayed by the gap between theory and practice.
With a sigh of fond exasperation, Lan Yue stood up, setting her tea aside. Her movements were still careful, but the weeks of recovery had granted her a new, steadier grace. She walked over to her lover, took the spoon from her hand, and gently turned her to face the sink. "Go on," she said softly. "Wash the soot off your face, you brilliant, dangerous theorist."
As Xue Lian scrubbed her face, muttering about "empirical failures," Lan Yue began to move through the kitchen. She didn't command the chaos with grand ideas; she brought a quiet, practical order to it. She salvaged the remaining vegetables, corrected the seasoning in the soup with a few judicious pinches of actual salt, and lowered the heat on the stove.
When Xue Lian returned, she found Lan Yue calmly stirring a pot that was no longer threatening to revolt, the kitchen already looking significantly less like the site of a failed alchemical experiment. A reluctant, embarrassed smile touched her lips. She came to stand beside Lan Yue, not to command, but to observe.
"You… seem to have a more practical understanding of the mechanics," Xue Lian conceded quietly.
"A cultivator learns to be self-sufficient," Lan Yue said simply. "That includes not setting the kitchen on fire."
The dynamic shifted. They began to cook together. It was a clumsy, often silent partnership, the brilliant theorist and the practical adept. Their hands brushed as they both reached for a spice. Xue Lian, under Lan Yue's calm instruction, managed to successfully sauté mushrooms without incinerating them. They fell into an easy rhythm, the quiet sounds of their work filling the warm kitchen.
The meal they finally sat down to eat was far from the glorious feast Xue Lian had envisioned. The chicken was a little dry on one side, and the soup was still slightly too spicy. But they ate it right there, at the big wooden table in the center of the messy kitchen, the grand dining hall completely forgotten.
Xue Lian took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and then sighed. "Well… it's… structurally sound."
Lan Yue took her own bite, her expression serene. She swallowed, then gave a small, considered nod. "The theory was excellent," she said diplomatically. "The execution simply requires… further field testing."
Coming from her, it was the highest possible praise. Xue Lian looked at her, at the faint, teasing smile on her lips, and a real, genuine laugh bubbled up and escaped her. Lan Yue joined in, the sound soft and clear. Their shared laughter was the only seasoning their strange, chaotic, collaboratively salvaged meal needed. It was not a metaphor for their relationship, but a new chapter of it: learning each other's true, sometimes hilariously flawed, selves, and building something real together from the ground up.