It’s said that a truly excellent good wife, in addition to knowing astronomy above and geography below, being proficient in 365 martial arts plus bedroom techniques, must also possess earth-shaking, ghost-weeping cooking skills.
Xin Mei believed that even if she lived to ninety-nine, she might not achieve such accomplishments in the first three areas. Fortunately, she did have cooking skills she could be proud of.
So, starting today, she decided to strive to be an excellent good wife.
It was now the second quarter of the mao hour, just as dawn was breaking. Xin Mei got out of bed, dressed, and finished washing. Turning back for a glance, Lu Qianqiao was still sleeping, one bare arm draped outside the covers along with a small patch of chest bearing several ambiguous red marks on it—which she had nibbled out the night before.
The wedding night had been chaotic, and he had worked so hard his face turned pale, so much so that he was still unconscious until now.
Xin Mei’s heart filled with tender affection for him. She bent down, pursed her lips, and gently kissed his face. He stirred, looked at her in confusion, then turned over and went back to sleep.
Sometimes, staying in bed was also a nice habit.
Stepping lightly, she pushed open the door. The early morning Imperial Tomb was filled with thin mist, carrying the unique coolness of autumn. Just as she took a step, she suddenly felt her foot kick something—several green bamboo tubes tied with red strings in very beautiful knots.
Lifting off the top half of one bamboo tube, she found neatly arranged purple glutinous rice balls shaped like lotus flowers, each decorated with a red date on top, made quite beautifully.
…Who had sent the purple rice balls? They seemed freshly placed, still warm.
Xin Mei carried the bamboo tubes to the kitchen and skillfully lit the stove. As a new bride, she was about to begin washing her hands to make soup.
Fresh duck blood soaked in water in the jar—perfect, she would make duck blood soup.
When the soup in the pot began bubbling white with rich fragrant aroma spreading, Tao Guoguo walked in rubbing his eyes, still drowsy, mumbling: “Smells so good, Brother Si Lan… what did you make?”
Looking up to see Xin Mei, he first froze, then turned to run, stopped halfway, and only then seemed to remember that Xin Mei had married over yesterday and was now the General’s person.
“You you you… what are you doing in the kitchen so early?!”
Tao Guoguo cowered behind the door pointing at her. Seeing her smiling as she added ingredients to the duck blood soup, he became so nervous his hair nearly stood on end.
“Don’t mess with the kitchen! What if it catches fire?”
Xin Mei ladled a bowl for him: “Try the taste.”
“I won’t eat it!” He shook his head vigorously. This woman was so unreliable, anything she made would definitely taste worse than pig feed. He wouldn’t subject his mouth to such suffering!
“What’s the harm, just try it.”
Xin Mei grabbed his fluffy wing, pinched his nose, and poured a small bowl down his throat, asking with a bright smile: “Does it taste good?”
He choked and coughed, nearly fainting, burst into tears with a wail, and ran off. After running several steps, he seemed to remember something, took out an identical green bamboo tube from his robes, and threw it to her with a bitter face: “For you!”
Oh? Another bamboo tube tied with red string. Opening it, there were also several purple rice balls inside, but made much less delicately, with handprints still visible on them.
As Xin Mei held the purple rice balls pondering, Si Lan entered. Seeing she had already started cooking, his face changed drastically. He rushed over to lift the pot lid—fortunately, it was neither charcoal nor pig feed inside. The duck blood soup had just come to a boil, apparently made with duck bone broth with spices added to remove the gamey smell, fragrant and appetizing.
The various large and small demons in the Imperial Tomb actually didn’t need to eat daily meals, occasionally eating was just for interest. Only the General required three meals a day without fail. Cooking and such matters had always been Si Lan’s responsibility—he never felt comfortable entrusting them to others.
Now looking at this duck blood soup, he immediately knew Xin Mei’s cooking skills were only superior to his own, and his mood became very complicated.
…The General was already hers, and now even cooking wouldn’t need him anymore?
—On Lu Qianqiao’s first day of marriage, Si Lan felt very lonely.
“Ma… that… ma…” He hesitated for several attempts. The words “madam” just wouldn’t come out when facing Xin Mei, so he simply skipped it: “A hundred years of harmony, may you have children soon.”
He then presented a particularly beautiful bamboo tube, inside of which were still several purple rice balls, round and adorably simple.
“Why are you all giving purple rice balls?” Xin Mei was extremely curious. “Are these leftovers from what you ate yesterday?”
“It’s a custom from the General’s side!”
Si Lan growled angrily. What was her brain made of?!
The War Ghost clan’s custom was to give purple rice balls to newlyweds. The demons in the Imperial Tomb knew this well, so early in the morning the doorway was piled with many purple rice balls, all sent by the little demons.
Xin Mei stuffed one in her mouth, chewed with a frown, and nodded reluctantly: “It’s… okay, I suppose. The purple rice isn’t cooked soft enough.”
…She was definitely doing this on purpose. Out of so many bamboo tubes, why did she only pick the one he made?!
“Oh my, so fragrant! Si Lan, what did you make today?”
Scholar Zhao’s voice rang out from outside the door. Upon entering and seeing Xin Mei sitting at the table eating purple rice balls, his eyes squinted with laughter. He hurried over, looking her up and down, clicking his tongue in admiration. Even his thin beard exuded a lecherous energy: “Young lady, one can tell at a glance you’re different from before today. Your skin is dewy, your cheeks rosy—the General’s nourishment has been effective!”
“Really?” She touched her face—she didn’t feel any different about herself.
“Really, really!”
He pulled out a bamboo tube from his wide sleeves and presented it, winking: “Here, take this. Young lady, be sure to save these purple rice balls for the General to eat. Once he eats them, you’ll know the benefits.”
“What benefits?”
Xin Mei opened the bamboo tube. The several purple rice balls inside, whether in color or shape, looked obscene no matter how you viewed them.
“Ahem, you’ll know once you use them. Young lady, I don’t tell just anyone about this. How will you thank me?”
She smiled sweetly, ladled a full bowl of duck blood soup and placed it before him, then picked out the bamboo tube of lotus-shaped rice balls for him: “Scholar Zhao, eat more.”
His face beamed with joy. Just as he lowered his head to drink a mouthful of soup, from the corner of his eye he spotted Lu Qianqiao walking toward the kitchen. He immediately took his meal and tactfully disappeared, conveniently dragging away Si Lan who was reluctantly still wanting to chat with the General.
“Xin Mei.”
Lu Qianqiao stood at the doorway calling her name. When he woke up, he had instinctively wanted to pull the person who should be sleeping beside him over for some tenderness, only to touch empty space. In that moment, he suddenly understood how abandoned wives in their boudoirs felt.
She answered and ran over, her face bearing a carefree smile, her hair still styled like an unmarried girl’s, with scattered bangs that fluttered up and down in the wind.
After their wedding night, seeing her smiling face in the morning brought a long-missed, heartwarming warmth.
He coughed softly, pretending to casually turn his head away, saying quietly: “Are you… alright?”
This… he had no experience in this area. Women’s bodies were much more fragile than he had imagined… that thing… when he woke up and discovered the bloodstains on the bed, he had rummaged through the cabinet for a pile of wound medicines and bruise ointments. Should he… should he apply some medicine or something…
“I’m fine.” An energetic reply.
…Actually, although he hadn’t expected her to wake up delicate and weak, crawling into his arms to act coquettish and cry about pain, but… but her being as lively and energetic as usual, even having the spirit to get up early and make duck blood soup, seemed even harder for him to accept.
Really… should he seriously study that Orchid Musk Tender Pistil Collection? Lu Qianqiao fell into contemplation.
A small hand gently grasped his sleeve. He looked down to meet her bright black eyes as she looked at him expectantly: “Is it delicious?”
His face instantly flushed red. What did she mean was delicious? Well, okay… it was indeed, indeed quite delicious…
“How does the duck blood soup taste? Is it too bland?”
Lu Qianqiao instantly calmed down, silently lowering his head to drink a mouthful of soup. She seemed to have added some Sichuan pepper powder—a light spicy fragrance with a slightly numbing taste. She was indeed very skilled at cooking.
“…Delicious.” He smiled and grasped her hand. “Getting up so early was to make soup?”
Xin Mei nodded: “My father said this is called washing hands to make soup. But I didn’t wash my hands—that’s okay, right?”
He very much liked her serious manner. He immediately finished the entire bowl of soup, then suddenly saw her push over a bamboo tube of purple rice balls that looked obscene in both shape and color, continuing to look at him attentively: “Eat these.”
…Very familiar-looking balls.
Lu Qianqiao picked up one and examined it from left, right, up, down, front, and back repeatedly, growing suspicious. He glanced at her, then at the ball, hesitating for a long time before asking: “Who sent these?”
“Scholar Zhao.”
She was giving him the obscene balls Scholar Zhao had sent… those balls that whoever ate them would know… did she mean…
He struggled with difficulty.
“Lu Qianqiao, after breakfast, can we sleep a little more?”
Xin Mei leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder, her voice soft and gentle.
“…Tired?”
“Mm.” She yawned. “I haven’t slept at all, just waited for dawn to wash hands and make soup.”
He embraced her shoulder, scooped his other hand under her knees, and gently lifted her. She curled up and buried herself in his arms. His hand gently stroked her hair, stroke by stroke: “Sleep now.”
“Uh, but washing the dishes…”
“Sleep.”
I’ll hold you like this always.
Xin Mei quickly fell into deep sleep, so she didn’t know that Scholar Zhao spent that day with diarrhea so severe his face turned the color of vegetables, moaning in agony on his bed all day. She also didn’t know that Miss Yinglian slept in the pond laughing smugly—those lotus-shaped balls were made most beautifully, she didn’t believe that dead girl wouldn’t eat them. As revenge for stealing the man she had secretly loved for years, she would make her spend her first day as a newlywed with diarrhea.
Hmm, the joyful first day of marriage passed peacefully and serenely(?) just like that.