The next morning.
Fine rain wove a gray curtain, shrouding Linjiang City's high-rises and streets in mist.
In the kitchen, Qing Yi stood before the stove.
She wore the light-colored knit sweater she had bought two days ago, its sleeves slightly rolled up to reveal her fair, slender wrists.
Her waist-length black hair was casually tied into a loose low bun with an elastic band, with a few stray strands hanging by her ears.
Her expression was focused as she held a wooden spatula in her right hand, watching the vegetables in the pan gradually bubble and turn faintly golden.
Though she now possessed only a mortal body, her exceptional comprehension still showed through.
As for the frying, stir-frying, steaming, and deep-frying of the mortal world, she had watched Qing Xuan do them only two or three times before fully grasping the heat, seasoning, and proper order.
She did not fluster about as ordinary beginners did, nor was she as rigid and formulaic as a novice learner.
Qing Xuan stood by the sink, helping her.
He placed the washed and drained vegetables onto a porcelain plate and handed it over.
Qing Yi accepted the plate. The two shifted sideways and traded places in the narrow space by the stove, their movements practiced and natural, without a single unnecessary word.
"Try it."
Qing Yi scooped less than half a spoonful of warm pork rib and yam soup from a clay pot, gently blew on it, and held it to Qing Xuan's lips.
Qing Xuan lowered his head and tasted it from her hand.
The soup was clear and rich, seasoned perfectly. The soft, glutinous yam blended with the fragrance of the meat just right.
"Very good." A faint smile appeared in Qing Xuan's eyes. "You have a better sense of proportion