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It was another busy day at Wanmin restaurant. A clan of exorcists had taken up several tables in the restaurant and had ordered an immense amount of food on short notice, sending the kitchen into chaos. Yet Xiangling smiled politely and shouldered the order, burning with excitement at a new challenge. She could do it. She knew she could. Yes, Xiangling might have promised Chef Mao that she had everything under control half an hour before the exorcists arrived. Yes, she might have forced him to rest early since it was already an hour after the dinner rush and she didn’t anticipate any large parties coming. Yes, she might have underestimated the number of guests that might have arrived before closing time. And admittedly; yes, might have had a little trouble trying to produce all the dishes ordered by the exorcist clan. But in the end, she got it done. That was what mattered.
Easy-peasy. She wiped her hands on her apron contentedly after finishing up all the orders, knowing it had to be easier sailing for the rest of the night.
But when she heard someone shout “everything’s on me”, her blood ran cold. The cheers sounded too enthusiastic. Xiangling gulped. She knew what that meant.
More orders. Meats that took a full day to braise, luxurious dishes piled with caviar and flying fish roe and lobster, even exotic dishes such as her infamous swallow’s nest with whopperflower nectar. All of them were expensive. With how much they ordered, they would have made the most stomach-cramming buffet look like a measly morning snack on the way to work.
That meant that Xiangling would be rolling in profits by the end of the day. But it also meant that she would be drowning in work.
Hooray.
So she set to work, her mind whizzing at the speed of light, blurring through her mental checklist as to what needed to be done, how much time she had, and crap, did she buy enough frying oil? Xiangling flew everywhere as the kitchen became a sweaty, buzzing furnace. Xiangling's mind entered a trance as her body moved in autopilot, moving as if she was a part of every pan she touched, every ingredient she held, every dish she plated. As if the kitchen was a breathing, clattering beast and she was its heart, infusing life into every platter of food on natural-born instinct rather than time-honed skill. Time seemed to freeze in Xiangling's bubble of work, yet no second went uncounted in her mind as the passing of a single moment could reduce fineness to failure.
Order after order flooded in. Xiangling persisted, dancing a spirited rondo of flash frying and steaming and boiling. The never-ending flurry of business had almost blinded her to the destruction occurring outside of the kitchen.
Almost.
She only noticed the eerie silence of the restaurant when she served up her final dish. There would always be some thrum of conversation. Or at least the clinking of silverware. But even that was gone. All she could hear was... a violent slurping?
Xiangling wiped her hands on her apron and stepped outside to take a look.
To say that the restaurant was in a state of disarray was a grave understatement. What lay before Xiangling was as if Anemo Archon blew in with a posse of tornados, leveling everything in their paths. Wooden stools were overturned, bamboo tables were snapped in half, pieces and bits of porcelain teacups were strewn about like broken eggshells, sauce-glazed chunks of pork short rib and cubes of fried silky-tofu were coated with dust and filth on the ground. And in the midst of all this chaos was a boy with hair as blue as the morning sky and robes as white as... bloodstained snow? It was Chongyun, the exorcist, that much was obvious. The only person in Liyue who avoided her food purely from the amount of spice she used. It wasn't personal, so she didn't take any offense. But so strong was his aversion to spice that Xiangling feared that spice was fatal to him. Or that spice would make his head explode. Or that it would make his skin bubble and dissolve into acid, revealing his true identity as a cryo whopperflower. Or something.
To the open-mouthed shock of Xiangling, he held someone's unfinished bowl of rich and spicy pork-bone broth up to his lips, draining it to the very last drop. When he finally finished it, he sighed loudly with gusto and threw the bowl against the ground violently, dashing it to pieces. Xiangling yelped in surprise at the piercing crash of ceramics shattering. Chongyun swiped his arm over his mouth, leaving a smudge of chili oil on his sleeve. More of such stains littered his once-white uniform. His lips, face, and ears were all flushed, pinpricks of sweat dotting the surface of his skin like sun rays bouncing off ice crystals in the snow.
“Wow, Chongyun! You finished it! It looks like you really enjoyed it.” Xiangling tried to smile. “Most customers wouldn’t even touch that soup because of how spicy it is. But I guess that drinking it is... well, an option as well.”
Chongyun peered at her blankly before he finally registered what he was seeing. There was a strange glint to his pale mint eyes that wasn’t there before. It seemed so wild. So reckless. So... unlike him. As if he was being possessed by a spirit. Or had a chaotic identical twin. Someone completely different. Someone that Xiangling didn’t know.
Chongyun raised a hand and pointed at Xiangling.
“You, there.” He sniffed a bit, the heat from the Jueyun chilies obviously affecting his sinuses. “I know you.”
“Everybody knows me, Chongyun. I'm something of a celebrity around here.” Xiangling studied him carefully. Was it the spicy food that brought out this side in him?
Not that she particularly minded. While it was a tad inconvenient that all her customers either fled out of fear or stormed away out of impatience due to Chongyun’s behavior, she was very glad that she could see this new side in him.
Xiangling placed a hand on the doorframe to ground herself to reality. She was still having trouble believing her eyes.
He was someone unlike the shy, reserved boy she knew. Someone unlike the polite, blue-haired exorcist who had to watch his every word to keep up a constant facade of professionalism. In a way, Xiangling liked whoever this was better. He seemed much more honest.
“I know you differently than everyone else.” Chongyun stated, taking a step closer. “I know your true identity.”
True identity? “Who... am I?”
Chongyun stopped and scratched the back of his head. “You don’t even know? Man, I feel bad now.” Then he shook his head. “No, nevermind. I could never feel bad for an evil spirit like you.”
“An... evil spirit?” Xiangling echoed.
“I swear upon my name, I will catch you!”
“Like... how you catch a crayfish? Or trap a boar?”
“No. Yes. Something like that.”
“But where did everyone else go?”
“I drove them away." Chongyun puffed up his chest with pride. "Catching an evil spirit requires unmitigated concentration. Only the exorcist and spirit may be present.”
“That’s interesting. Would you mind telling me more about that?” Xiangling warily took a step back into the kitchen.
“I would be happy to— No, wait, your deceptive tactics won’t work on me, spirit! No more stalling! Now stay still and I’ll make this quick and painless.”
He careened forward, aiming to tackle Xiangling’s midsection. Xiangling quickly sidestepped, sending him flailing into the kitchen. The clang of the metal wok resounded, followed by the crash of the spice rack collapsing. Xiangling had always told her dad to tighten the screws on the spice rack and yet he never got around to doing it. Guess it finally gave out now.
A moment. Then two. Absolute silence. “Are you okay!?” Xiangling shouted into the small room.
“I’m okay!” Chongyun shouted back. He stumbled out with a string of dried chilies hanging over his face.
“You sure about that? You have a— on your face.” She pulled the peppers off his head, giggling at how silly he looked. Chongyun’s ears flushed even redder, his eyes narrowing at Xiangling with skepticism. He stumbled back as if she had struck him hard in the chest, pushing against the doorframe for support.
“Curse you, evil spirit,” Chongyun growled. “How dare you use your forbidden magic to tamper my emotions.”
“Emotions?”
“Nothing! Just— take this!”
He counterattacked with another attempted tackle around the waist. Xiangling nimbly sidestepped and dodged him once more.
Chongyun stumbled into a table and clumsily recovered his balance. He shook his head to reorient himself and his lips peeled into a wide grin.
“Impressive. You’re faster than I thought. Guess I’ll have to try a little harder.” He widened his stance and dug the balls of his feet into the ground. With a bright flash, Chongyun summoned his gigantic claymore. It was swathed in a mist of cryo energy, the exact glacier-blue of his hair. “Prepare yourself!”
Xiangling let out a shrill cry and dashed out of the way as Chongyun’s broadsword crashed into the spot she was in before, crushing a fallen platter of stir-fried mustard greens into smithereens.
“Aiyah! That almost hit me!” Xiangling stared down at the now-frozen bits of vegetable.
Chongyun made a strained grunt as he lifted the claymore again, hefting it onto his shoulder. Xiangling picked up a cast-iron skillet from a nearby table, dumping out the half-eaten poached perch inside it. Part of her mourned for the dish but she couldn’t afford the time to properly grieve.
“A touch of frost!” Chongyun’s broadsword sliced downwards towards her. Xiangling raised the skillet and blocked his attack with a resounding clang of metal against metal. The vibration shot down Xiangling’s arm, rattling her to the bone. She had to use every ounce of her strength to keep from dropping the skillet. Ice bloomed over its surface, slowly creeping closer and closer to her hand. Its frigidity rolled off in waves onto her skin, goosebumps riddling her arm.
Xiangling grit her teeth and looked around for any useful items in her surroundings. Her gaze locked on an unbroken bamboo table, its top stained with all sorts of colorful residues.
Hm. That could work.
She angled her pan to the side, sending Chongyun’s broadsword crashing into a bamboo table. The table splintered yet kept its shape, but now with a gaping hole near the center with Chongyun’s blade sticking out of it. Chongyun tried to wrench it out, but it was lodged too deeply and would not budge.
“Ha! Gotcha there!” Xiangling planted her fists on her hips in triumph.
Chongyun laughed dryly. “Not quite yet, spirit!” Quick as a viper, he slapped a marigold-yellow paper talisman on her forehead. It was emblazoned with brilliant crimson calligraphy composed of sloping strokes and supple curves.
“Uhh... what’s this?”
“A talisman. It looks very pretty with your eyes.” He motioned towards his own cat-like pair for emphasis.
Xiangling puzzled over this bizarre transaction for a moment before consciously deciding not to think about it too much. “Oh! Thanks! That's very kind of you. I like your calligraphy as well.”
His eyes widened. “Really? Thanks. Most people never notice. I’m surprised you did."
“Of course I did. How could I not notice such a fine piece of handiwork? Also, what does it do?”
Something within Chongyun changed. Smugness flickered behind his eyes, his mouth twisting into a lupine grin. "Well, what do you think it does?"
A shiver shot down Xiangling's spine, her entire soul ensnared within Chongyun's stare. "I don't know. What does it do?"
Chongyun prowled towards Xiangling, who instinctively took a step back. “It’s a sealing ward.” He lunged forward. Xiangling squeaked and tripped backward, losing her balance. She squeezed her eyes shut—
Thud. Xiangling’s eyes snapped open. Her breath hitched. Chongyun’s face was barely inches away from hers, his cold palm supporting her by the small of her back. His other arm was braced against the wall, next to her head. She was pinned down. There was no way to escape.
Chongyun drew his face closer, the warmth of his breath tickling her skin.
“Do you know what sealing wards do?”
“N-no?”
Chongyun lowered his voice to a deep, breathy growl. “It means that nobody can touch you. You’re mine, now. Forever.”
Xiangling’s cheeks reddened.
Chongyun’s eyes roved over her slim figure before pausing on her twin loops of braided hair. His pale hands reached for them; and with a light tugging sensation on her scalp, Xiangling's updo became undone.
“Hey! That took a long time to braid!” Xiangling protested, her voice made tight by the sensation of his deft fingers undoing each twist of her blackberry locks. Chongyun gave no response. His breath was heavy and ragged and so, so hot. He was bedazzled by her velveteen hair, her gemlike amber eyes, her scent of sun-bleached rocks and violetgrass and freshly washed rice. Chongyun's piercing gaze became unfocused, his grip trembling.
“Chongyun? Are you feeling alright?” Xiangling blinked. “You look unwell.”
Chongyun swallowed dryly, a glistening bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. “D-do I now?” The confidence in his voice had become strained into stiffness, denoting its falsity. He seemed much smaller now, nervous and trembling.
Xiangling frowned. He was redder than a boiled lobster. She cupped his face with her small hands and leaned in closer to him, head craning forward, eyelids sliding closed.
Chongyun made a surprised noise at the back of his throat and tried squirming his way out, but Xiangling held him firm in place. Her face loomed closer, closer, until her nose was half a centimeter away from his, maybe less. Chongyun he squeezed his eyes closed and puckered his lips slightly—
Their foreheads brushed.
“Hyaah!” gasped Chongyun, his entire body flushing. It was a squeaky, improper noise that made the air curdle with awkwardness.
Xiangling remained unhindered, pressing her forehead to his by pulling him into an awkward stoop to match heights.
Chongyun fermented in his own embarrassment. “O-oh, that wasn’t a- a kiss,” he flubbed at language. “That’s fine, uh, it's not like I was anticipating a kiss- or anything like that, really. I actually would have preferred not a kiss because I wouldn’t have preferred a kiss, n-not like I don’t like kisses but I just wasn’t expecting a kiss and- don’t take offense! I don’t mind kisses- that is, if they're your-“
Xiangling gently pushed him away and frowned, crossing her arms and shaking her head.
Chongyun fumbled for words. "Ah! I messed up, didn't I? I'm very sorry!-”
She cut him off. “As I thought, your temperature is too high to be normal.” She sighed ruefully. “And to think I was the one who caused it, how shameful! But don’t worry! Like every good chef, I’ll see every challenge through to the end.” Her bubbly demeanor was back, brimming with purpose. “Chongyun, I’m going to nurse you back to health! Just you wait!” She took Chongyun’s arm by the crook of her elbow. “Follow me. I’ll bring you to my- Chongyun? Chongyun!?”
Chongyun had slumped over, tumbling onto Xiangling.
“Chongyun! Wake up! Chongyun!”
|—|
Chongyun thought he heard his name being called over and over and over.
“Chongyun? Are you awake? Can you hear me?”
Ah, it was a girl. The voice was familiar. Where had he heard it before? ...Oh, he remembered now. That girl from Wanmin Restaurant. She was so small, so adorable. Like a Jueyun pepper, able to fit in the palm of his hand but held a whole lot of spunk.
Man, she was younger than him by a couple of years, but she was already up and helping with the business. Traversing the whole of Teyvat, exploring every nook and cranny, and tasting strange and perhaps inedible things for the sole purpose of gastronomy— he had to admit, he was a tad bit jealous of her. With so much freedom, she was bound to make tons of new friends from different places.
It would make sense for him to want to become closer with her. But was it really advisable? Befriending Xiangling came with having to eat her food. And as they all knew, few made food spicier than Xiangling.
Yeah, maybe keeping his distance would still be the best move—
"Chongyun? You can hear me, right?"
Ah, her voice again. It was almost as if she was actually next to him, calling out his name.
"Chongyun. C'mon, you're not fooling anyone. You're awake, aren't you?"
Chongyun made a low, sleepy grunt of assent.
“Fine. I have no choice.” There was a rustling of fabric as a gentle weight was taken off of him. A wave of cool air hit his skin. He heard Xiangling inhale sharply. Then after a heartbeat or two, she cried, “Three! Two! One!” Chongyun snapped his eyes open but it was too late.
She jabbed a finger into his side, just below the ribcage. Chongyun yelped as his entire body jerked, recoiling from her touch. His weight shifted and the bed dipped, sending him rolling off the edge. He clutched at a plush, yellow blanket but still landed on the worn wooden floor with a resounding thud.
“Ow…” Chongyun rubbed his hip. Gosh, that hurt a lot more than he expected. A flare of pain shot into his head as he sat up, blanching his vision with light. His arm flew up to his head, fingers combing through his hair. “Ugh, my head—” His words died on his lips as he regained his vision.
Xiangling was peering at him, leaning off the edge of the bed precariously. Her round, honey-drizzled eyes were uncharacteristically piercing, trained solely at him and his disheveled state of being. Her throat bobbed as her attention drifted from his hand in his hair to his confused expression before drifting lower and catching on his torso.
He glanced down and saw only his own pale skin. He was shirtless. Chongyun scrabbled at the blanket and bunched it up against his torso, crossing his arms over himself in embarrassment. “I apologize, I shouldn’t have let you witness me in such a state of undress,” he confessed bashfully. “Please allow me to express my sincerest apologies—”
“N-no need!” Xiangling’s neck flushed. Then she whacked her cheeks lightly with both hands and shook her head as if to clear her mind. She tried to stand up to get off the bed but ended up tumbling onto the ground next to him. They both froze. Then shared a glance.
Xiangling snorted. Both of them burst into a light bout of laughter, ringing bright and melodious. The tension from before shattered. Xiangling got up and brushed herself off. “I washed your clothes for you. They were stained, and I didn’t want you steeping in sweat and chili oil overnight.”
Chili oil? Uh-oh. Chongyun’s palms bloomed with sweat. He should probably ask about it.
“Steep, as in like a teabag?” he asked with perfect seriousness. What the heck. Did his brain choose to straight up not function?
“Unnecessarily graphic. But yes.” Xiangling threw Chongyun his uniform top.
Chongyun caught his choice of words and pulled the blanket over his head to change. “Yes. Yuck. But, uh— chili oil?”
Xiangling turned away to give him privacy. “Yeah. I heard the story from some of the other customers. First, you ate the glutinous rice balls with the Jueyun chilies filling and suddenly got all hyper— that might be my fault for not warning you, oops. And then you sampled a ton of spicy food last night; don’t you normally avoid that stuff? Then you smashed the store a little bit, chased me around with your sword, put a talisman on my face… Well, either way, I was really surprised. You acted like someone completely different. It was immensely interesting to see.”
Oh, shiii-
“Interesting as in ‘cool’ or as in ‘deranged psychopath?’' Desperation seeped into Chongyun’s voice.
“Psychopath is a bit of a strong word. Maybe ‘deranged’ by itself is more fitting.”
Crap. Chongyun threw off the blanket and stood up, fully dressed. Xiangling turned, her hands flying to her mouth as Chongyun fell onto the floor, body laid prostrate and forehead brushing the ground. “I sincerely apologize from the bottom of my heart for causing a commotion last night. I was not myself and had acted unbefitting someone of my rank. Please excuse my foolish actions. I swear upon my name and of the name of my clan of exorcists that I will pay you back in full, whether it is through monetary means or brute labor. I apologize once again for my terrible behavior.”
Xiangling flailed her hands and shook her head wildly. “Ah! There is no need to bow! Please, get up.”
Chongyun gingerly stood up but still kept his head down in shame. He stared down at his bare feet, guilt weighing on his chest. How much had he destroyed? How much had he inconvenienced Xiangling? He was bringing such dishonor upon himself, his family, and his clan. He wasn’t even worthy of making eye contact with Xiangling.
Xiangling placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Chongyun, I forgave you long ago. You didn’t bother me at all! No hard feelings or anything, so smile, okay?”
“Really?” Chongyun started in surprise. “I must have caused a lot of ruckus. Breaking things, scaring your customers… and did I ruin your hair?”
Indeed, Xiangling’s hair was down. It cascaded down to her shoulders like a bolt of silk, lustrous with an onyx indigo. They contrasted against her jewel-like eyes of vespertine ochre, the precise color of blazing dawns against a starless midnight sky.
Xiangling absent-mindedly twisted a strand of hair between her fingers. “Oh, my hair? Well, I guess you did undo it. My dad usually does it for me, but since it’s still pretty early out, he hasn’t woken yet to braid it. Does it look strange?”
“Yes.” Chongyun stated, then blanched. “Wait, not in a bad way. It looks good. You look good. Wait—”
Her face brightened. “Oh, thanks! Maybe I should leave it down once in a while when I’m not cooking.” She parted the curtains and opened the window, exposing an intensely azure sky. Xiangling inhaled deeply, listening to the bustling of merchants and the calls of shop vendors and street peddlers. The sun was blindingly bright, reflecting off the white stone of the nearby mountains.
Chongyun joined her at the windowsill, also inhaling. The smell of aromatic spices and sun-baked stone and scintillating seas and sandbearer wood permeated the air, faint and soothing. It was the scent of Liyue Harbor.
Then Xiangling clapped her hands in finality. “Well, I’ve kept you here long enough. I would hate to take more time out of your undoubtedly busy schedule. Not that I do not enjoy your presence. Now, it’s time for you to go.”
Chongyun pursed his lips in thought. “I suppose you’re right. If I don’t head back soon, I’ll miss my morning training.”
“Right, then, out you go!” Xiangling shoved him down the stairs and out the door. “Being late has never helped any early birds get the soup dumplings!”
“I think it’s supposed to be ‘get the worm.’”
“While eating worms sounds intriguing, I prefer soup dumplings. Especially the ones I sell. You should try it sometime. But for the meantime, take this-” she crammed a mint-blue popsicle into Chongyun’s fist. “-and go back. It would be terrible if I caused you to be late, hm?”
As Chongyun was ushered outside and away, he noticed the sheer emptiness inside Wanmin Restaurant. There were hardly any tables or chairs left.
Chongyun patted down his pockets to try to find his wallet. Maybe he could at least pay the expenses for new furniture.
Xiangling shook her head. “No need to reimburse us. Plus, you didn’t come with your wallet in the first place.”
“But, how will the customers-?”
“We’ll do a promotional sale on takeout. And I think the traveler is in Liyue today, so I’ll hire him as a part-timer to deliver food for me. I promise you, we’re fine.” Her smile was wider than life; it was the adorably awkward type that showed all her teeth and made the corners of her eyes pinch just slightly. And it was contagious— Chongyun found himself grinning back the same way.
“Thanks, Xiangling.”
“No problem. Come back when you feel like it! I would love to see you around more often.” She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed lightly before letting go. “See you sometime.”
“Right. See you.”
Chongyun sped his way out of view, hiding behind a large tree. He turned and glanced behind him, at the Wanmin Restaurant, at where Xiangling had stood waving to him. She was gone.
That was when the thin skein holding in his emotions burst.
Chongyun crumpled to the ground, back pressed against the smooth bark of the tree. He pressed his face into his knees as heat rushed into his face, his ears, his chest. It was as if he had eaten Jueyun chilies and all the spice poured into his heart rather than his mouth.
He was so close to losing it. Being around Xiangling drove him crazy to the point where he was unraveling. If he didn’t get a hold of himself, he would really be screwed.
“Come on, Chongyun,” he muttered to himself. He whacked himself on the face the way Xiangling did it. The subtle sting on his skin prodded him back towards reality. “Come on. Get it together.”
“Get what together?”
Chongyun scrambled onto his feet, expression lulled back to an alert solemnity. Xingqiu had appeared out of, seemingly, thin air. He angled his head at Chongyun quizzically.
“I was simply reflecting on the disappointing outcome of one of my exorcisms,” Chongyun lied.
Xingqiu sighed and patted Chongyun on the back. “And here I was, thinking you were all red from a crush or something.” Chongyun almost flinched. “There is no need to judge yourself so severely.”
Chongyun huffed and crossed his arms. Xingqiu chuckled. “I’ll be anticipating your presence after your training. The usual spot.”
“Fine by me.”
He didn’t know why, but Chongyun felt like he just barely dodged a bullet.
|—|
Noon was rolling around by the time Chongyun appeared in front of the Wanmin Restaurant. Xingqiu was already there, nose stuck in a novel as always. He didn’t look up even as Chongyun arrived.
“A tad bit late, are we?” With a papery thump, he snapped his book closed with his finger still wedged in between the pages to mark his spot. “No need to apologize. I had only just received the food.” He held up a disposable bamboo bento box.
“What did you order?”
“Nothing. I was just given food.”
Chongyun looked confused. Then incredulous. “Xingqiu, did you steal that?”
It was Xingqiu’s turn to look incredulous. “Of course not! I’m appalled you would think that lowly of me! No, Chef Mao simply gave this to me. He said that Xiangling wanted you to have it.”
“Oh.” Chongyun took the bento, prying the lid open. “Oh.”
Xingqiu peered over Chongyun’s shoulder. “What? Soup dumplings? You can't eat that, can you? When you bite into it, the soup is hotter than the surface of the sun. There is no perceivable way to eat it without burning yourself.”
Chongyun looked closely. There was no steam. He picked up a pair of disposable chopsticks and tentatively picked up the dumpling. Xingqiu watched nervously with bated breath, attention flicking between the dumpling and Chongyun’s reaction.
The outer skin of the soup dumpling was thin and translucent. It was extremely delicate yet strong enough to only sag under the weight of the soup and meat filling. Even as it neared Chongyun’s mouth, there was not a single trace of heat. Instead, it felt… cold?
Chongyun steeled his nerves and stuffed the entire dumpling in his mouth. Xingqiu gasped quietly.
The dumpling burst and the savory-salty taste of pork broth exploded on his tongue. It wasn’t oily or heavy at all; it was light and gentle, enough to make him salivate for more of the taste. Plus, it was chilled after being cooked instead of being served straight from the steamer, contrary to the usual method of serving soup dumplings. The unique sensation of the cool soup added a new dimension to the overall flavor. The chewy ball of minced pork on the inside was succulent and moist, bursting with juice. And was that… a hint of crab? There was a subtle fragrance of the sea, barely noticeable but very distinct. It added a depth to flavor, lightening the overall flavor of the dumpling. Every bite was a cool euphoria, wave after wave of flavor.
Chongyun finally swallowed. The silence was almost unbearable. Xingqiu leaned forward in anticipation. “Well? How is it?”
Chongyun exhaled slowly. Then shoveled another soup dumpling into his mouth. Xingqiu laughed and scooped up a soup dumpling as well. His eyes shone with surprise as he chewed slowly, his hand pressing against his cheek.
“It’s good,” Xingqiu mumbled around his food. “It’s really good.”
“I know, right?” Chongyun spoke in between mouthfuls. “Maybe it’s a new dish.”
“Or maybe Xiangling made it especially for you. Maybe you’re just that special to her.”
Chongyun choked and pounded at his chest. “Friends,” he managed to stammer. “We’re just- just friends.”
Xingqiu squinted at Chongyun. The cerulean-haired boy felt like his icy facade would melt underneath his gaze, revealing all the messy, squishy feelings locked up inside.
“Hm. Fine.” Xingqiu shrugged and brushed it off. Chongyun almost deflated in relief. “But it’s really strange. Usually, Xiangling would be up before dawn, doing prep work and whatnot. But Chef Mao said that she hadn’t even cooked a single dish, save for these soup dumplings. I wonder where she is.”
Chongyun nonchalantly answered, “Oh, I know.”
“Where?”
“In her bedroom.”
Xingqiu narrowed his eyes. “How would you know?”
“Because I was there.”
Xingqiu’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“What?”