Work Text:
When Luo Binghe, in his hunt for quail eggs, walked into the main kitchen of the palace--significantly smaller than the private kitchen area directly adjoining his favorite bedroom--at two in the morning, he wasn’t expecting to see any activity. Most of his wives, except for Ning Yingying and Liu Mingyan, enjoyed waking up and eating breakfast fairly late after all. And although his former shijie and shimei still held on to the Cang Qiong habits like Luo Binghe himself, they did not complain when going along with the majority’s schedule.
Luo Binghe himself was wide awake at the late hour, for reasons that were not nightmares because Luo Binghe was your worst nightmare, thank you very much, and he had decided to use the time to be resourceful and experiment with Ning Yingying’s favorite congee recipe. Surely, with the right surprise addition, it would again evoke the same passionate reactions from her as it had at sixteen. It had been so many years after all; even the most delicious food in the world would start tasting dull if it became routine. That must be it.
The image of the other Ning YingYing (shijie) , flashed unbidden in his mind, stressed brows and responsible shoulders and a more genuine smile than he had seen in centuries, and he brushed it aside.
Luo Binghe was expecting an empty kitchen when he walked in wearing the ratty stained cooking robes he switched out for silk when actually serving food to his wives. Instead, he found a demoness no taller than his knee attacking a potato with a meat knife.
The knife occasionally came in contact with the spud, sending projectiles of root vegetable flying in various directions. Most of the time though, the demon child just stabbed into the counter (no chopping block in sight) with her brute strength, leaving deep gashes in the polished jade. The general vicinity was covered in unidentifiable food waste.
The sight of a demon in a kitchen (all of Luo Binghe’s palatial chefs were specially handpicked and “procured” from fallen human food capitals) flummoxed Luo Binghe enough that he forgot to dodge as a potato projectile launched towards him. It bounced off the side of his head with a resounding crash , caving in to meld to the shape of his skull. Luo Binghe inwardly scowled. Just some time ago, his spiritual aura had reliably deflected all potential minor injuries without him needing to break a sweat--why did that change? Was he growing weaker? Was that why he could be defeated by that snivelling little--
The little demoness swivelled her head around at the noise and narrowed her catlike eyes at him. Her two intricate braids whipped around with the motion, and ah, Luo Binghe knew this one! Not by name, but based on the hair and the snooty demeanor and the predominance of red patterns in her dress, this was Sha Hualing’s most recent spawn.
Luo Binghe considered this one to have particularly good potential--he had sent over a diamond hairpin for the child a few weeks after her seventh birthday, even. The mother could use it now--or, well, stick it on top of whatever she used to actually hold her braids up, since it was a delicate little thing he forgot to give Liu Mingyan a few anniversaries ago and then it got a bit too late--and the daughter would grow into it by the time she reached the age for suitors. The perfect practical gift for a little princess who would one day make worthy demonic alliances in his name.
This would be their first in-person meeting in six years, and the first one in which she was mostly sentient instead of a drooling set of teeth. Luo Binghe put on a patented charming smile, crafted to appeal to children rather than maidens, and prepared to greet his daughter.
She beat him to the punch. “Cook! Yi-Yi required your presence a long time ago! Why did none of you answer your door when I knocked!” She had a gratingly high-pitched voice that lilted even higher at the end of her sentences, Luo Binghe observed. Either Sha Hualing had not started teaching her how to fully utilize her youthful cuteness, or she had tried and failed.
Wait, what did she just call him.
“COOK!!!” she bellowed at him. “Why do you stand there so insolently! How dare you disrespect Yi-Yi, do you know who Yi-Yi’s father is?!!!”
Firstly, who else could it be in this palace. Secondly, do you? Does Yi-Yi know who Yi-Yi’s father is?!
Luo Binghe looked down at his stained cooking apron and inner robes, nonplussed. He looked back up at the child, who was currently pouting with her arms crossed over her chest. A newly familiar brand of irritation ate through his chest. Yes, his demon mark was currently hidden behind human skin because the human wife who had entertained him earlier preferred it that way, and his hair was up in a messy bun held back by a red scarf, and he had streaks of papaya pulp on his face, but he was still Luo Binghe .
His smile felt strained at the corners. “Why yes, young mistress,” he said with forced sweetness. “This humble one does know who young mistress’s father is. In fact--”
“Yi-Yi” threw a whole spud at him, hitting him in the forehead with dead accuracy. What kind of spoiled brats were his wives raising?! Luo Binghe had been such a well-behaved child!
“Yi-Yi doesn’t have time for your blathering! Mother won’t stop nagging about her cravings and sleep until she gets her human-style congee. Get to it!”
Why was she cutting up potatoes to make congee? Also, Sha Hualing was pregnant again? So soon after the last one? Luo Binghe made a note to visit her soon--she was always so enthusiastic in her first trimester.
“Young mistress’s mother is indeed very fortunate to have such an attentive daughter,” he tried again. “As am--”
“What nonsense!!!!!” the child screeched and bared her tiny fangs. “Who is attentive!!! I just want to sleep!!! SHOW ME THE CONGEE OR BE MAULED.”
.
And that was how Demon Lord Luo Binghe found himself teaching his rotten-meat-eating daughter how to make congee at half past two in the morning.
.
“That’s not how you hold a knife,” Luo Binghe huffed, exasperated enough to drop the formalities. He tried to correct Yi-Yi’s murderous grip and rolled his eyes when she hissed at him. He grabbed a new knife for himself to demonstrate. “You’re not trying to stab an animal or skin it, so you have to hold it horizontally. Horizontally --no, not like at someone’s throat, flip it like this and then chop the scallio-- nononono notthathard --”
.
“I can do it on my own!” Yi-Yi glared at her father over her shoulder.
“Or, perhaps, consider: you could shatter the last surviving kitchen counter?” Luo Binghe said. He crouched down to guide his daughter’s hand to hold the knife in a gentler grip, and then used their joined hands to slice up the green scallions at a much slower speed than he usually went for. Something about the contact felt familiarly grounding, but he could not for the life of him remember why.
“Now you try,” he said, hovering a hand above hers so he could stop her if the demonic impulses took over again.
Yi-Yi rudely scoffed at his paranoia and looked down at the knife in her hand again. She furrowed her brow and began slicing a new batch of scallions with a much more hesitant hand, cheeks puffing up in concentration (her motions were still a bit too forceful, Luo Binghe noted with a small wince). By the end of it, she had a handful of chopped scallions--fairly uneven, but at least the counter was (mostly) in one piece.
Luo Binghe decided to indulge her. “Not bad,” he said sagely, and gathered her efforts up to pour into a prep bowl.
“Really?”
Luo Binghe turned back to her, surprised at the new shyness in her voice. The child was looking at her own hands with a slack jaw and sparkling eyes--she looked much more like a child like this, and much less like the child-shaped weapon Sha Hualing had no doubt raised her as.
Luo Binghe coughed. “Really,” he replied, injecting a more earnest tone, wondering why he suddenly felt the urge to place a hand on her head.
.
“A-Niang can go rest, Binghe can learn on his own!”
A phlegm-ridden but kind laugh, the rustle of a calloused hand brushing through soft curls.
“Of course--I know my Binghe can do anything he sets his mind to. But won’t Binghe let A-Niang watch him for a little bit? It has been a long day, and I have missed him so.”
“...All right, A-Niang. But A-Niang must promise Binghe she will go to bed after the congee starts simmering.”
Another laugh, indulgent. “A-Niang promises.”
Then, “Try to move your wrist like this, love. That will chop them up much faster. Now try by yourself.”
“Like this?”
A gasp. “Just like that! I knew it, my Binghe really is a natural at everything.”
“A-Niang is lying--A-Niang’s carrots are always sliced so much more evenly!”
“I will never lie to Binghe. I repeat--an absolute natural.”
.
“And now for the final step--garnish and a little extra seasoning. Put a few of those ginger slices on top--gently!--good. And now a bit of pepper--ah.”
Yi-Yi looked up at him, still holding the now empty container of white pepper. “Did Yi-Yi do it wrong?”
His daughter really was unbearably adorable when she wasn’t scowling or screaming. Luo Binghe shook his head; Sha Hualing’s demonic palate might even appreciate the extra kick, for all he knew. “Time to taste,” he said, using the ladle to scoop up some of the rice and offering it to her.
Yi-Yi contemplated the ladle and then shook her head. “Cook can try first,” she said with a determined glint in her eyes. She shoved the ladle towards him, rising on tip-toes to push it near his mouth.
Ah, he still had not told her who he was. Something in him, perhaps the burning warm weight lodged in his chest, protested the idea of letting her know. What if she began to treat him with the same intimidated distance his eldest heirs did? The thought felt...wrong.
Luo Binghe put on a thoughtful expression as he chewed on the rice, surreptitiously blinked the pepper-induced tears out of the corners of his eyes, and hummed.
“Perfect,” he said. His smile felt different, like he was being forced to use creaky, long-forgotten facial muscles.
“Really?” his daughter squealed, a wide smile mirroring his own taking over her face for the first time that night.
He nodded, distracted by the fact that she had inherited both his eye shape and his smile and he had not noticed until now. The crinkled smile lines at the corner of her long-lashed eyes were uncannily familiar, yet Luo Binghe had not seen them in a mirror since he was her height.
“Yi-Yi will take this to Mother then!” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She turned to the pot, hesitated, and then turned back to Luo Binghe, “Cook will teach Yi-Yi more human dishes the night after tomorrow.”
True to her spoiled upbringing, she did not bother to hear his confirmation. Rather, she threw her arms around his middle in a short hug that would have crushed an actual human chef with its unrestrained demonic strength, easily picked up the entire pot (Luo Binghe hoped Sha Hualing kept dishes and cutlery in her quarters) and zoomed out of the kitchen.
Luo Binghe watched his daughter’s rapidly retreating back and felt terribly confused. The uncomfortable warmth in his chest had risen. It had settled in that lonely spot between his collarbones, which so many hundreds of years ago had borne the weight of a tiny knock-off jade guanyin.