Chapter Forty-One: Cuisine

He realized he had simply been overly anxious. Perhaps in other places, petty theft might be expected, but this was the Qilian Mountains—one of the four great sects, renowned for its formidable reputation. Anyone foolish enough to try something here might well pay with their life. When Han Tan Yi called out, a head slowly peered around the doorway, cautiously surveying the interior, as if searching for something. There was no need to guess; among these dozens of people, only Qiu Wan’er possessed such a temperament. Seeing it was her, Han Tan Yi’s tense demeanor eased considerably. He rose slowly from the bed; though he had slept, the weariness on his face had not diminished.

“Junior Sister, if you want to come in, then come in. Why all this sneaking about? I almost thought you were a thief,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of reproach, though he meant nothing of the sort. In his eyes, this young girl was the closest person to him. From the moment she arrived on the mountain, she had followed him everywhere, always calling him Senior Brother. They shared no blood relation, but in every other sense, she was like a true sister to him. Naturally, now that she had been discovered, Qiu Wan’er no longer tried to hide. She stepped into the room, her expression tinged with embarrassment, like a child caught in mischief, her head slightly bowed. She approached slowly, and when she drew near, she whispered, “Senior Brother.”

Han Tan Yi didn’t immediately respond. People were like this—upon waking, the mind was always clouded, words hovered on the verge of utterance but seemed ill-timed, and so fell silent. He walked a few steps toward the table and gently poured himself a cup of tea. The rising steam suggested it was freshly made, not left standing for long. Watching the vapor curl in the air, Han Tan Yi suddenly understood: her cautious movements were not sneaky, but careful—she had been afraid of waking him. The thought brought a smile to his lips, softening even the line of his mouth. He didn’t rush to drink, but turned to Qiu Wan’er and said gently, “Thank you?”

“Ah?” The scene caught Qiu Wan’er off guard. She had expected her Senior Brother to scold her, never imagining such a response. She stood there, momentarily stunned, as if unable to comprehend what had just occurred. Sensing her confusion, the smile on Han Tan Yi’s face grew even warmer. Only then did he raise the cup and gesture toward her. “Thank you for preparing the tea.”

At last, even Qiu Wan’er, no matter how muddled, understood. The dazed look fell away from her face, replaced by a faint smile that mirrored Han Tan Yi’s own. Seeing him react in such a manner brought a quiet satisfaction to her heart. Of course, those who are close ought to care for one another. “Senior Brother, you’re being too polite. The tea was prepared by Second Senior Brother; I merely brought it for you. I saw you were still asleep and worried about disturbing you. Now that you’re awake, you should freshen up—Second Senior Brother has likely already prepared dinner.”

With that, Qiu Wan’er turned and left. Since it was a matter of washing up, she could not linger; even among the closest of kin, some propriety must be maintained. Han Tan Yi said nothing more but watched her retreating figure as she hurried from the room, his smile undiminished. Unconsciously, he brushed his hand across the bridge of his nose, unaware of the gesture.

Night had fallen over the Qilian Mountains, draping the landscape in shadow. Though the moon shone, it was not yet the fifteenth, and the orb was not full. The pale light scattered in patches, lending a hazy beauty to the scene. Jagged bluestone outcrops rose abruptly from the earth, and the mountain breeze drifted gently through the wilds. With a companion at one’s side, gazing up at stars half-veiled by clouds, such moments could be counted among life’s rarest pleasures. But now was no time for idle appreciation. On the table, the flicker of candlelight barely illuminated the circle of faces, while the fragrance of food mingled with the air, leaving no doubt that a feast was about to begin.

Lao Er, though lacking in other skills and the weakest in martial arts among the Qilian disciples, possessed a culinary talent second to none. His mastery of homestyle cooking was unmatched, and even the humblest wild herbs became delicacies in his hands. If a man excels at even one thing, it is enough to make him proud for a lifetime.

Han Tan Yi moved quickly. As a man, he had no need for the lengthy grooming rituals of women, which many men never fully understood, though for women such tasks were routine. More importantly, Han Tan Yi was starving. He hadn’t eaten since the previous night, and hunger made him unsteady on his feet.

He was given the seat of honor, as was right in the absence of Daoist Tianji. Han Tan Yi accepted without protest or pretense, and the others sat according to the established order. The air was thick with the scent of food, and a celebratory mood filled the room. Lao Er had gone to special lengths for this meal, not only in the choice of dishes and ingredients but in every detail. The colors—reds and greens artfully arranged—stimulated the appetite.

“Second Brother, your skill is truly impressive,” Han Tan Yi said. “On this journey, I’ve tasted many fine dishes—even the wedding feast at Mingyue Manor was exquisite and memorable. But compared to yours, it still falls a little short. Truly, we are fortunate to have you among us.” Though Lao Er was second among the Qilian disciples, he was a full decade older than Han Tan Yi. Thus, he called Xia Wuya Third Brother and Han Tan Yi Second Brother, while they referred to Han Tan Yi as Eldest Brother. Each used their own form of address, and it was perfectly natural. Of course, Lao Er’s culinary prowess, for all its excellence, was still that of a mountain cook, not to be compared with the master chefs of grand restaurants. Yet, looking at the spread before him, Han Tan Yi could not help but feel moved, and his words were both sincere and complimentary.

Such words pleased everyone, Lao Er not least of all. His face beamed with pride and a touch of embarrassment, as if he truly believed himself the world’s greatest cook. The assembled brothers, whether they had traveled outside the mountains or not, whether they believed the praise or recognized it as flattery, all echoed Han Tan Yi’s compliments. The room filled with voices extolling the food, some enthusiastically, others raising their chopsticks without further ado.

Perhaps only one person seemed out of place—Qiu Wan’er. Her gaze never strayed from Han Tan Yi, watching his every movement and word with particular attentiveness. When he spoke, she could not help but find it amusing; after all, when had her Senior Brother ever cared about the cuisine at Mingyue Manor? Wasn’t his mind entirely occupied with the Night-Luminant Pearl?

Of course, she said nothing. To point out such things requires tact; sometimes it enlivens the atmosphere, but at other times it fosters only awkwardness or even resentment, which would be inappropriate here. Clearly, this was one of those moments. Little did she know, however, that her so-called Eldest Brother had once been equally perfunctory with her, which explained his earlier behavior.

In any case, today was not a bad day for Han Tan Yi. At least he could sit here and enjoy a long-missed meal. As for what the future might hold, or how he would face the chaos of fate—that could be left for another day. Time, perhaps, would be enough to bury it all. Yet, as for the scar upon his leg—what could be done to erase it?