Ketchup in the Morning Light

At 5:40 in the morning, Tang Wulin's eyelashes trembled, and his consciousness slowly surfaced from the edge of a dream.

The serenity of a hangover still lingered in every limb and bone. Almost instinctively, he reached toward the space beside him—the other side of the bed was empty, carrying a trace of warmth from the night, but the familiar warm body was gone.

He opened his eyes. First came the ceiling, then the mushroom-shaped nightlight on the bedside table, glowing with a soft orange light—it was chosen by Gu Yue, who said it would not hurt their eyes if they woke up in the middle of the night. The room was silent, save for the occasional chirp of birds outside the window.

"She must've gone to make breakfast." Tang Wulin muttered, his voice slightly hoarse from sleep. He threw back the covers and sat up. As the blanket slipped down, a faint, cool fragrance spread through the air, like pine needles after a snowfall mixed with mint.

It was Gu Yue's scent.

At that thought, the corner of his lips rose. Who would have thought? That powerful woman who had once been as cold and fierce as an ice goddess on the battlefield had now, after being a Soul Master for half her life, made a glorious career change and become a cook.

Living together was like a jar of aged wine; without them noticing, it had softened both their rough edges.

Gu Yue especially. In the past, her schedule had been precise to the second, and her training logs had been immaculate. But ever since she got together with Tang Wulin, her mind seemed to have caught some virus called "taking it easy" from this master blacksmith.

Training? That had become something she did on and off. Her cultivation level was already there, and no one could shake it. Her soul power still circulated every day, but it was more to maintain her body's functions than to pursue a higher realm. These days, aside from checking out Tang Wulin's forging techniques, she either messed around with him—for example, smearing flour across his face to watch him turn into a little tabby cat—or buried herself in the kitchen, staring at the endless recipes on her phone in deep thought.

After washing up, Tang Wulin pushed open the bedroom door, and the rich aroma of food rushed over him. He followed the scent to the kitchen doorway, leaned against the frame, and quietly watched the busy figure inside.

Gu Yue wore a pale blue cotton lounge set beneath an ivory apron embroidered with little silver dragons. Tang Wulin had bought that apron, saying she looked good in it. At the moment, she was frowning slightly as she focused completely on the frying pan in her hands. Her long black hair was casually gathered into a loose low bun, with several unruly strands hanging by her neck and swaying softly with her movements.

In the pan, golden egg batter sizzled, its edges already turning an enticing caramel brown. Her expression was as focused as if she were crafting a soul device, and she muttered under her breath, "The recipe said... put it in when the oil is sixty percent hot... Ah, I think it's a little too hot..."

Just as the egg was about to turn out perfectly, perhaps distracted by the footsteps behind her, her wrist gave a slight shake. A tiny drop of hot oil splashed onto the back of her hand.

"Ah—" Gu Yue sucked in a breath. Yet instead of immediately using soul power to protect herself as she once would have, she reflexively put her finger in her mouth and sucked on it. Then she shot the person behind her a glare. "Tang Wulin! Don't laugh!"

Tang Wulin truly could not hold it in. A low laugh rumbled from his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin in the hollow of her slender shoulder as his warm breath brushed her sensitive ear. "I'm not laughing at your cooking," he said in a muffled voice. "I just think our Gu Yue would still be the prettiest arsonist even if she burned down the kitchen."

The tips of Gu Yue's ears reddened. She lightly jabbed him with her elbow, turned around to switch off the heat, and skillfully transferred the heart-shaped fried egg, golden on both sides with slightly charred edges, onto a plate. "Enough with the sweet talk." Carrying the plate toward the dining room, she said, "Go wash your hands. Breakfast is ready."

The dining table was already covered with a lavish spread. There was a bowl of thick, soft millet porridge sprinkled with golden osmanthus blossoms; a plate of crystal shrimp dumplings, their wrappers so thin that the pink shrimp inside were nearly visible; and a dish of crisp green cucumber salad drizzled with a sweet-and-sour sauce. Naturally, the star was the freshly cooked sweet-and-sour ribs, their tender meat coated in a rich sauce and giving off an overpowering sweet-and-tangy fragrance.

This was their morning. Simple, warm, and full of the comforting bustle of everyday life.

Meanwhile, at the other end of Shrek City, inside the dormitory building of Shrek Academy.

In a tidy single dorm room, Ye Xinglan sat at her desk, gnawing on a hard slice of bread with an almost self-torturing air.

To save travel time, she had deliberately chosen to live in the academy dormitory. The room had everything she needed: direct access to a training room, fully equipped medical soul devices, and a quiet environment. The only thing she had overlooked was life itself.

In front of her was the cheapest whole-grain bread from the academy cafeteria, hard enough to chip a tooth. To force it down, she tore off a small piece and, as if taking medicine, dipped it in some cheap ketchup she had bought from the supermarket.

"Ugh..." The moment she swallowed that mixture, her stomach churned violently, and a powerful wave of nausea surged into her throat. Covering her mouth, she fought back the urge to retch as a fine layer of cold sweat seeped across her forehead.

This was already her second slice of bread that morning. She had dipped the first in jam, and it had been so sour that she frowned the entire time. For the second slice, she switched to ketchup, only for it to be even worse. It was not that she could not afford better food; she simply felt that during training, anything related to "enjoyment" was a waste of time.

Crunch. Irritated, she took another bite of dry bread. Its sawdust-like texture spread through her mouth, as though she were chewing on the dull, flavorless life she was living.

Just then, the phone at the corner of her desk lit up with a message notification from the group chat, "Eight Bandits."

As if possessed, she set down her "instrument of torture," picked up her phone, and unlocked it.

There were not many messages in the group. Pinned at the top was a picture Gu Yue had posted half an hour earlier.

It was a carefully composed breakfast photo. On a white bone-china plate, the sweet-and-sour ribs gleamed with an oily sheen. Beside them sat a bowl of steaming white porridge, a basket of steamed dumplings, and a cut-open runny fried egg, its yolk slowly spilling out in a golden stream. The background was a warm glass dining table, with a small bouquet of freshly picked wildflowers in one corner.

The caption was brief, but it was like a fine needle that precisely pierced Ye Xinglan's most vulnerable nerve:

"Wulin said the ribs are just the right balance of sweet and sour. He's having another bowl."

Tang Wulin had also been tagged beneath the words. He quickly replied with an honest-looking smiling face: "Mm! Delicious! My wife's cooking is unbeatable!" A string of heart emojis followed.

Ye Xinglan stared at the photo, her gaze glued to every plump grain of rice and every perfectly colored rib. The discomfort in her stomach vanished, replaced by a scorching hunger and... an uncontrollable rage.

"Grrr..." Her stomach growled traitorously, the sound especially loud in the silent room.

This damned picture overflowing with happiness! This damned Gu Yue, glowing with the nourishment of love! This damned Tang Wulin, who only knew how to grin like an idiot!

And she, a proud elite of Shrek Academy, had to sit here fighting with dry bread that was nearly impossible to swallow and cheap ketchup!

"I'm so pissed..." Ye Xinglan clenched her phone so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She felt as though her stomach was about to burst from the resentment.

No, she could not take it anymore. She had to say something, even if it was only to vent all this unbearable lovey-dovey nonsense.

She opened her private chat with Gu Yue, took a deep breath, held down the voice-message button, and said in a voice that tried desperately to remain restrained but still carried a gritted-teeth edge, "Gu Yue, could you put some limits on flaunting your relationship this early in the morning? Do you know how much you look like a... cook soaking in happy weight gain right now?"

The voice message was sent. She waited for a reply—perhaps comfort, perhaps an explanation.

Yet the screen showed only the simple status, "The other party is typing..." It went on for so long that Ye Xinglan began to think Gu Yue was deliberately leaving her hanging.

Just as she was about to be swallowed by anger again, a new message popped up.

It was not text, but a photo.

The background was the same dining table from the breakfast photo. The difference was that every plate was now empty.

The bones from the sweet-and-sour ribs were neatly stacked to one side. Of the crystal shrimp dumplings, only a half-empty bamboo steamer remained. The millet porridge bowl was so clean that it could reflect a person's face. Even the last bit of sauce on the plates had been carefully scraped clean with bread.

At the center of the photo, a slender hand held chopsticks and made a large V-sign.

Immediately afterward came a second message, another voice recording.

This time, Gu Yue sounded in an excellent mood, her voice carrying the laziness and satisfaction of someone who had just eaten her fill, along with a faintly mischievous smile. "Xinglan, sorry. I was going to save some for you, but Wulin said he could eat three big bowls, so I... accidentally made a little too little. Look, we finished everything. Not even a single grain of rice is left."

Ye Xinglan stared at the picture of the empty plates and felt a rush of hot blood shoot straight to her head.

"Gu! Yue!" She nearly smashed her phone.

That picture was like a silent taunt, slapping her hard across the face. It displayed not only the lack of food, but also that shameless, intimate closeness.