"Glug... hiss..."
The sound of people drinking soup drifted through the camp. At a glance, all that could be seen were dwarves holding bowls and lowering their heads to drink. Every so often, someone sucked in a breath after being scalded by drinking too quickly.
"Wandering Wizard, I bet you must be a chef among humans!" Bofur asked, lifting his head. He had just burned himself, and his speech was still a little slurred.
"Indeed. This meat soup is delicious!"
"You didn't put some magic in it, did you?"
The dwarves chimed in one after another, constantly blowing on their bowls. Steam lingered throughout the entire camp.
Dawn accompanied by the aroma of meat—what could be better?
Even the more well-mannered Gandalf and the more reserved Thorin kept their heads lowered and drank silently, clearly believing the soup tasted excellent. Baggins, who was himself quite skilled at cooking, also showered An Yang with unreserved praise.
"I'm a human Wizard, and I'm also a Wizard among humans." An Yang emphasized the point before continuing, "Perhaps it's because I have a wife who's very skilled at cooking. I eat the food she makes every day, so I picked up a thing or two."
"You have a wife?" Gandalf looked at him over the rim of his bowl.
"You even have a wife?" The dwarves all turned surprised looks on him. One of them asked, "Your wife is still... I mean... your wife is still alive... um... you know what I mean."
"Yes, she's still alive."
"Oh! That's truly astonishing!" After saying this, the dwarf noticed everyone staring at him, and even An Yang's expression had turned strange. Realizing he had said the wrong thing, he hurriedly tried to correct himself in a fluster. "Um... that's not what I meant... I mean... you