Chapter 65: The Disastrous Chicken Soup

“Aldoran, the chicken soup is here!”

Eden and Aldoran’s conversation was abruptly cut short by Qing Yu’s resonant call.

Turning around, they saw Qing Yu had already placed the steaming chicken soup upon the table.

Thrud, following closely behind Qing Yu, wiped her hands on her apron as she entered the room.

“Qing Yu is back! Aldoran is almost fully recovered, you know.”

Eden was the first to rush to the table, taking a deep, appreciative breath.

“It smells wonderful! Did you make it, Thrud?”

“Give it a try,” Thrud invited, taking a seat and gesturing to Eden.

“I personally stewed the chicken for about six hours; it was slaughtered before dawn, so the taste should be exceptional.”

“No, no, I have matters I need to attend to.”

“If you wouldn’t mind the trouble, Thrud, please prepare a pot for me later.”

Before Thrud could utter a word, Eden’s figure vanished like a gust of wind.

By the time Thrud registered his disappearance, only three Golden Apples remained on the table.

“Consider this my advance gratitude, Thrud! Don’t forget, now!” Eden’s voice drifted in from beyond the door.

“Aldoran, you look remarkably spirited!” Qing Yu exclaimed with delighted surprise, observing Aldoran’s rosy complexion.

Qing Yu had scoured the entire city for doctors, yet all were powerless to alleviate Aldoran’s condition, pushing him to the brink of despair.

Then, unexpectedly, Eden appeared, claiming he possessed a method to improve Aldoran’s health.

Though a measure of skepticism lingered, it was a ray of hope, and Qing Yu agreed to let him treat Aldoran.

Eden had promised a swift awakening and cure for Aldoran, but Qing Yu had never anticipated such rapid efficacy.

Aldoran, who had been comatose just yesterday, had now fully recovered, appearing utterly indistinguishable from her former self.

Having just experienced the restorative power of the Golden Apple, Aldoran seemed utterly unharmed.

The pain in her body had been swept away, and she had simply donned a nightgown before getting out of bed.

Given Aldoran’s petite, loli-like figure, she appeared remarkably short in a world where the average female height hovered around 1.75 meters.

Consequently, when selecting a nightgown for her, Qing Yu had been compelled to choose children’s sleepwear.

With her sleepy eyes, tousled hair, and oversized nightgown, Aldoran shuffled towards the dining table in her slippers, yawning softly.

The usual inexplicable aura of gravitas she carried had vanished, replaced by an undeniably adorable sight.

Qing Yu found himself staring, captivated.

Aldoran settled into her chair at the table, naturally noticing Qing Yu’s gaze.

She lowered her head, cast a fleeting glance at him, and a faint smile graced her lips.

“So, so adorable, Aldoran.”

Qing Yu swallowed, a knot forming in his throat.

For reasons unknown, he possessed an uncanny insight into Aldoran’s every action, every subtle shift in her emotions.

While Thrud had missed Aldoran’s smile, Qing Yu had effortlessly discerned it.

“You too,” Aldoran murmured.

She then pulled Qing Yu to sit beside her.

“Oh, by the way, where’s Liliya?”

“Liliya went to the theater; they’ve been performing her favorite play for the past few days.”

“I hear it’s about some Harpy hero or something; I don’t really understand it myself.”

“I recall learning about it back in junior academy, but I can’t quite remember the details now.”

“In any case, it’s about a rather impressive individual.”

Thrud attempted to recall, yet, regrettably, having always been a poor student, she couldn’t conjure up a single detail.

Her clearest memory from her school days was being expelled by her teacher for being too mischievous.

“Never mind, never mind,” Thrud shook her head, dismissing such taxing thoughts.

“Lady Aldoran, please try the chicken soup. Lord Qing Yu personally selected the chicken for it.”

Chickens in Midgard differed significantly from those on Earth.

Most Midgard chickens stood about a meter tall, possessed entirely black plumage, and, instead of combs, bore long feathers atop their heads.

Their beaks were straight and exceedingly sharp, making them highly aggressive, and they were typically caught in the wild.

The individual variations among them were minimal, which meant Qing Yu had expended considerable effort to discern the best one.

As he spoke, Qing Yu had already ladled a bowl of chicken soup and handed it to Aldoran.

“I spent a long time choosing this one from the most expensive selection; the taste simply cannot be wrong.”

“Is that so?”

Aldoran took the chicken soup, observing its clear color and steaming surface, then took a delicate sip.

Yet, that single sip was enough to make Aldoran feel nauseous, and she involuntarily spat it out.

Though Aldoran knew Qing Yu and Thrud had painstakingly prepared it for her, she simply could not tolerate the taste.

While the chicken soup appeared appealing, with its bright color and fragrant aroma, its actual taste was unbearably bitter.

It was akin to someone stuffing putrid eggs down one’s throat—foul and astringent, irritating the throat until one yearned to regurgitate everything consumed the previous night.

“Aldoran!” / “Lady Aldoran!”

Qing Yu and Thrud cried out in unison, rushing to the coughing Aldoran’s side to pat her back.

“What’s wrong, Aldoran? Are you feeling unwell somewhere?”

After her coughing subsided, Qing Yu quickly handed Aldoran a glass of water, continuing to pat her back.

“This taste… I’m sorry. I know you both worked hard, but I simply cannot bear it.”

“Eh?! How is that possible?!” Thrud was the first to exclaim.

“How could I possibly have made a mistake?”

As Aldoran’s personal maid and chef, Thrud had stewed chicken soup for Aldoran countless times, always earning her praise.

Indeed, one might even say that within the entire mansion, there was no chef more skilled than Thrud.

Moreover, she had personally guided Qing Yu in selecting this particular chicken—a vibrant, wild fowl freshly caught from the mountains, impeccable in both appearance and meat quality.

While stewing the soup, mindful that Aldoran was ill, Thrud had specifically cut the meat into incredibly fine pieces, added numerous expensive spices and nourishing vegetables, and simmered it slowly for a full six hours.

She had even incorporated her special flavoring agent during the process.

By all accounts, the resulting chicken soup should have been of a caliber that even high-end hotels couldn’t rival.

How could Aldoran possibly find it unacceptable?

“You’ll know if you try it,” Aldoran said, shaking her head.

The bitter taste still clung to her throat, stimulating her taste buds and causing her to dry heave incessantly.

“That shouldn’t be right,” Thrud murmured, skeptically scooping a spoonful of soup and bringing it to her nose.

Thrud never touched the food she prepared for Aldoran; partly due to her absolute confidence in her culinary skills, and partly because, as a servant, she couldn’t casually partake of her master’s meals.

In all these years, Thrud had never once erred in preparing food for Aldoran.

“Doesn’t it smell quite fragrant?”

The sweet aroma made Thrud’s mouth water, and she refused to believe there was anything wrong with the chicken soup.

However, this conviction lasted only until she brought the soup to her lips.

The moment she took a full spoonful of the chicken soup into her mouth, a putrid, bitter taste immediately surged forth, fiercely assaulting Thrud’s taste buds.

An unbearable stench of decay flooded her mind, piercing every nerve.

For a moment, Thrud felt dizzy and disoriented, as if the world were spinning around her.

“Ugh!”

Thrud lasted only three seconds before she collapsed beside the trash can and vomited.

“It’s, it’s so foul!” Thrud managed between retches.

“Lord Qing Yu, Lady Aldoran, I apologize, I made a mistake.”

The taste was utterly intolerable.

Even after rinsing her mouth several times with water, Aldoran still felt an unshakeable stench lingering.

If Aldoran, who had only taken a small sip, felt such profound discomfort, then Thrud, who had downed a full bowl, was in an even worse state.

Thrud felt as though she had nearly emptied her stomach, yet the nauseous, unpleasant sensation clung to her relentlessly.

The dizzying, spinning feeling was deeply rooted in her mind, rendering Thrud unable to stand.

She could only cling to the trash can, continuing to dry heave.

“Gulp.”

Witnessing Aldoran’s and Thrud’s reactions, Qing Yu involuntarily swallowed.

He had never imagined that a simple bowl of chicken soup could possess such devastating potency.

“Could someone have poisoned it? Or perhaps the wild chicken needed some special preparation?”

“I—I was guarding the chicken soup the entire time; no one else came near it,” Thrud gasped, weak from vomiting, lying on her side on the floor and clinging desperately to the trash can.

“The whole kitchen, it was just, just me. And the chicken, the chicken doesn’t need special treatment.”

No sooner had she finished speaking than Thrud immediately began to dry heave again.

“No way, could it really be that potent?”

Qing Yu muttered to himself, gazing at the steaming, fragrant chicken soup.

This was the first time Qing Yu had ever witnessed something elicit such an extreme reaction from Aldoran and Thrud.

The two, who typically could punch tigers and kick venomous snakes, had today been utterly defeated by a small bowl of chicken soup.

Enticed by curiosity, Qing Yu stirred the spoon and cautiously brought a mouthful of chicken soup to his lips—

“Ugh!”

Qing Yu couldn’t even last a second.

The instant the chicken soup entered his mouth, he couldn’t help but retch it out.

“It’s so foul!” Qing Yu exclaimed, rushing to the trash can.

“Thrud, move over!” Qing Yu couldn’t hold it in and began to vomit beside the trash can as well.

It was utterly unbearable.

Never before had Qing Yu imagined such a vile-tasting thing existed in the world; this concoction was worse than poison itself.

…

Aldoran, still dry heaving and slumped over the table, noticed the Golden Apples Eden had left behind.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed one and bit into it, hoping the peculiar sweetness of the Golden Apple would dispel the foul stench and bitterness in her mouth.

Indeed, the moment the Golden Apple entered her mouth, its flesh melted, and juice burst forth, spreading to every corner of her oral cavity.

A powerful sensation of freshness and sweetness surged forth irresistibly, washing away the discomfort.

A feeling of comfort and clarity instantly overtook her mind, and the putrid stench in her throat was suppressed by the sweetness before it could even resist.

“Golden Apple, the Golden Apple works!”

Seeing the Golden Apple’s efficacy, Aldoran immediately tossed them to Qing Yu and Thrud.

Qing Yu and Thrud, still vomiting, paid no mind to the apples falling to the floor.

They picked them up and, without even wiping them, brought them to their mouths.

“Saved!”

The moment the Golden Apples entered their mouths, Qing Yu and Thrud cried out in unison.

The Golden Apples were nothing short of a divine elixir, instantly curing Qing Yu’s and Thrud’s discomfort.

The moment the fruit pulp slid into their stomachs, all three felt as if they had been reborn, their bodies filled with a profound sense of strength.

A sweet aroma lingered in the room, swirling gently.

“Ha, ha, we’re saved,” Thrud gasped, sitting on the floor for a moment before helping Qing Yu to his seat.

“That stuff was pure poison.”

Gazing at the bowl of chicken soup, Qing Yu felt a wave of nausea.

Immediately after, Aldoran instructed Thrud to pour all the chicken soup down the toilet.

To their dismay, the moment the soup entered the clean toilet, an immense stench of decay instantly wafted out.

Left with no choice, they had to block the door and flush the toilet with large basins of water a full fifty times.

Aldoran even had to freeze the entire toilet, then instantly melt the ice, repeating the flushing process about fifty more times.

Even after all this, with the toilet floor polished enough to serve as a mirror, faint whiffs of the foul odor still lingered.

“I’m sorry, Aldoran, I never imagined this chicken soup would turn out like this.”

Qing Yu, weary, placed the uneaten Golden Apples in the toilet and blocked the bathroom door before sinking into a chair and speaking.

“It’s alright,” Aldoran sighed, a long breath escaping her lips.

“Let’s just eat out today.”