“Gurgle—”
Qin Lang’s stomach let out a long rumble. He rubbed his belly and lowered his head in embarrassment.
Qin Yi glanced at him without changing expression, then produced an egg from his sleeve. He cracked the shell and quickly peeled the white, handing it to Qin Lang. Turning to Jian Jia, he said, “I’ll cook, you just wait a moment.”
After entering the house, Qin Yi opened the window. Jian Jia peeked inside and realized she was looking at the Qin family kitchen. Normally, kitchens were the messiest place in a household, so she had expected disorder, but the kitchen was surprisingly bright, clean, and orderly.
Jian Jia stood at the window, taking in the layout. The windowsill faced the stove, which was a typical rural design. On the stove sat two iron pots, one large and one small, and above them was a small aluminum pot for heating water.
This kitchen was the largest she had seen since arriving in this world, and everything was neatly arranged. Even the shelves along the wall with jars and containers were spotless.
Qin Yi lifted the wooden lid of the large pot, revealing a smooth, dark bottom. He scooped a few ladles of clear water from the cistern beside the stove and poured it into the pot. He replaced the lid, moved behind the stove, and the sound of splitting firewood came from there. Soon, wisps of pale smoke floated away with the wind.
As Jian Jia watched curiously, she felt a light touch on the back of her hand. Looking down, she saw Qin Lang holding half an egg white toward her. The small boy’s voice was soft, and his slightly yellow hair swayed like tender spring grass. “Sister, eat this.”
Jian Jia’s heart softened, and she gently pressed down his soft hair. “I’m not hungry. Lang, you eat it yourself.”
Seeing her resolute, Qin Lang withdrew the egg white and obediently sat at the small low table, nibbling carefully.
The water in the large pot hissed softly. Jian Jia assumed Qin Yi was just heating water, but he stepped out from behind the stove, stretched his long arms, and lifted a large bamboo basket hanging from a hook on the beam.
The basket contained long stalks of chives, reddish-purple amaranth, thick-stemmed cabbage, and mustard greens with yellow flowers. Jian Jia watched, amazed, as Qin Yi took a sharp knife and chopped the vegetables into uneven segments before dropping them into the not-quite-boiling water.
She had never seen such a method. The vegetables released a distinct grassy smell, the water turned a strange gray, and the chopped pieces floated listlessly.
Qin Yi then added two bowls of flour from a nearby cabinet over the still-lively vegetables. After stirring, the iron pot contained a thick gray mash of vegetable stems and flour lumps. Once boiled, he added three large spoons of salt and two spoons of soybean oil.
Jian Jia sucked in a breath, a terrifying thought forming in her mind: could this really be their lunch?
As if confirming her fear, Qin Yi’s voice came from the kitchen: “Time to eat.”
Jian Jia looked at the bubbling gray mash and froze. She turned to Qin Lang in a small voice. “Does your brother usually cook like this?”
Qin Lang raised his head, wiping egg yolk from his lips. “Not usually,” he said seriously, “usually there aren’t this many vegetables, and not this much oil either.”
The Qin family ate from coarse porcelain bowls. Qin Lang’s was slightly smaller, but Jian Jia’s was bigger than her head. The gray mash in the shallow bowl contained vegetable stems and uncooked flour clumps. Even pigs would feel insulted being served such a meal.
Seeing Jian Jia’s complex expression, Qin Yi furrowed his brows. “What’s wrong?”
Shaking her head, Jian Jia said, “Nothing,” though she thought ruefully that it was a pity such a handsome man had such terrible cooking skills.
After two spoons, the bitterness spread from her tongue throughout her mouth. Jian Jia glanced at Qin Yi, who was drinking the mash in large, bold gulps. He finished his bowl in moments, looking like he was enjoying a delicacy.
Jian Jia took a deep breath and gave herself another chance. She picked up a scoop of the mash, closed her eyes, and forced it into her mouth.
The taste was strange. The initial saltiness was followed by a mild bitterness. Chewing revealed the grainy texture of flour lumps and the fibrous vegetables. The lingering bitterness intensified, and her brows furrowed instinctively.
As a food blogger, she respected all ingredients. Unless something was unbearable, she would eat it. Now she could barely swallow.
Looking at Qin Lang, she saw him struggling with the same gray mash. The small boy paused, pulled a long chive from his mouth, and Jian Jia’s heart ached for him.
Thinking of the oil cakes she had made the previous night, she wanted to fetch one when Qin Yi spoke: “I’ll be going up the mountain this afternoon. Do whatever you want.”
He glanced at Jian Jia, expression calm. “This forest is relatively safe, but if you go to town, it’s best to wait until I return.”
Jian Jia nodded silently. She had no plans to go to town. She didn’t know the roads, the paths were difficult, and the mountains held dangers. She preferred to organize her room and familiarize herself with the Qin household.
Qin Yi ate quickly. Once he finished, Qin Lang had already put down his chopsticks. “I’m full, Sister, you eat slowly.”
Jian Jia looked at the half-full bowl and wanted to eat slowly, but she really couldn’t. Qin Yi cleaned up the dishes while quickly adding, “Take your time. If there is any leftover, give it to General.”
General seemed to understand and sat with his tongue out, tail wagging, eyes fixed on Jian Jia’s large bowl. She looked at him, amazed that he could grow so strong on such food.
After lunch, Qin Yi went up the mountain and Qin Lang, feeling sleepy, went back to rest. The household quieted. Jian Jia finally entered her own room.
The room was square and spacious, but the original dowry and furniture made it somewhat crowded. Sunlight streamed in through the window, revealing every detail.
The room seemed long uninhabited, with a faint musty smell. The black-gray walls were patched and mottled, corners held spiderwebs, and cracks in the earthen floor housed small, unknown insects. Compared to the original body’s room, it was rough, yet Jian Jia felt comforted.
The afternoon sunlight was bright and hot, illuminating the courtyard and her eyes. She rolled up her sleeves, talking to herself and perhaps giving herself courage: “Let’s get to work.”
The day’s harvest was good. Soon after Qin Yi went up the mountain, he caught two mountain chickens in traps. Normally, he would save them to sell in town, but thinking of his younger brother and the newly arrived Jian Jia, he decided to keep them for dinner.
Returning home with the chickens, he heard sawing in the courtyard. He paused, surprised, looking toward the yard, when a shout rang out: “Ouch!”
Qin Yi’s gaze sharpened, and he drew his dagger, moving like an arrow through the gate. In the sunny corner of the courtyard, a rope held yellowed bedding warming in the sun. Jian Jia crouched behind it, and through the gaps, scattered wood shavings, leaves, and neatly bundled firewood were visible.
Jian Jia was tidying the yard? Could she have been bitten by a venomous insect hidden in the debris?
Worrying this, Qin Yi quickened his steps. But before he reached her, he saw Jian Jia stand upright, her slender right hand gripping a snake by the seventh segment. Her smile was bright, her thumb and forefinger tapping the snake’s round head. “You dare hide from your buffet. Run, keep running.”
Seeing the snake, Qin Yi froze again. His expression remained calm, but his pupils contracted sharply.
It was a king krait, seven feet long, thick as Jian Jia’s arm. Even without venom, many girls would shrink away, yet Jian Jia boldly held it by the seventh segment, baring her small white teeth and teasing it.
That morning, Qin Yi had seen Jian Jia as soft as an orchid in spring rain, delicate and timid, needing care. Now, watching her wrestle a snake, the image of the orchid vanished completely.