Chapter 9: A Taste of Home

Staring at the blueprints, Lu Hongzhuang found herself in a daze.

It was only then that she truly grasped the astonishing ideas swirling within the mind of a woman who, on any given day, seemed lazy, unreliable, and utterly useless.

“A… friend,” she replied evasively.

“Can this cart… truly be built?”

“It can! Of course, it can!” the old carpenter declared, thumping his chest with confidence.

“With blueprints like these, I could build ten, let alone one!”

“Rest assured, young lady. Give me half a month—at most—and I guarantee I’ll build you one exactly like this.”

Having settled on a price, Lu Hongzhuang paid the deposit and departed from the carpenter’s shop.

Her final stop was the apothecary, where she purchased a smoothly polished wooden crutch for Su Qinghan.

With all her errands complete, she headed for home, her hands full of bags, large and small.

The setting sun cast her shadow long and thin behind her.

For some unknown reason, her steps felt lighter than they had on her way out.

By the time Lu Hongzhuang returned to the small courtyard, laden with bags, the setting sun had already painted half the sky in crimson hues.

Su Qinghan was already there, leaning on the new crutch and pacing the courtyard with a limp, humming a strange, off-key little tune.

“You took your time. I’m starving.”

Su Qinghan paused her pacing and jutted her chin out at Lu Hongzhuang.

“Yes,” Lu Hongzhuang acknowledged, setting her things down on the stone table with a clatter.

“The market was crowded. It took some time.”

Su Qinghan sidled over and began expertly rummaging through the vegetable basket, her mouth already issuing commands.

“Alright, don’t just stand there. Let’s get to work!”

“Take the greens and wash them—twice, they’re muddy. And that piece of meat? Slice it thin. The thinner, the better. It’s time to test your knife skills.”

She sat on the stone stool with her legs crossed, her crutch resting beside her, looking for all the world like a foreman overseeing a job.

A vein throbbed at Lu Hongzhuang’s temple.

Resigned to her fate, she picked up the greens, walked over to the water vat, and began to wash them.

“Hey! Don’t splash water on me!”

“The meat! I said *slices*! Are those chunks you’re cutting? Are you feeding pigs?”

“You, over there! Go chop the firewood and get ready to start the fire!”

Lu Hongzhuang finally snapped.

She brought the cleaver down onto the cutting board with a resounding *thwack*, then turned to face Su Qinghan, her expression impassive.

“You. Shut up.”

Su Qinghan immediately raised her hands in surrender, leaning on her crutch for support.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be quiet. You carry on.”

Only then did Lu Hongzhuang avert her gaze and return to silently prepping the ingredients.

In the small kitchen off the courtyard, Lu Hongzhuang crouched silently before the stove.

She stuffed dry firewood into the chamber, struck a fire starter, and lit the kindling.

The flames leaped up with a whoosh, casting an orange-red glow on her complex expression.

Beside the stove, Su Qinghan steadied herself with one hand on its edge, a spatula in the other, ready to heat the oil.

Lu Hongzhuang watched the smoke rise from the wok, then glanced at Su Qinghan’s frail figure and couldn’t help but mutter.

“If you can’t make something decent, I’ll toss you in the wok and stir-fry you along with it.”

At her words, Su Qinghan froze.

She turned her head, placed a slender, pale index finger gently to her lips, and beamed at Lu Hongzhuang, her eyes crinkling into crescents.

“Oh, you’re so wicked.”

A surge of blood rushed straight to Lu Hongzhuang’s head, and her cheeks flushed crimson in an instant.

Veins pulsed on her smooth forehead.

“Just cook!” she bit out through clenched teeth.

“Sigh.” Su Qinghan let out a breath, her tone turning helpless. “But this stove of yours is too high. I can’t reach it sitting down, and my leg is too weak to stand.”

She patted her own leg.

“How about… you hold me steady?”

Lu Hongzhuang was speechless.

She looked at Su Qinghan’s unabashed expression, and finally, with gritted teeth, she stood up.

She walked over and reached out from behind, her hands settling on Su Qinghan’s slender waist.

Her waist was soft to the touch, and a gentle warmth radiated through the fabric of her clothes.

Lu Hongzhuang’s body stiffened, and the tips of her ears began to burn without her realizing it.

Su Qinghan, however, seemed completely oblivious.

She braced one hand on Lu Hongzhuang’s shoulder for support, and with the spatula in her other hand, her movements became as smooth as flowing water.

Stir-frying, seasoning…

Despite her frail body, she now displayed a proficiency and deftness that utterly contradicted her appearance.

The rich aroma of scallions, ginger, and garlic exploded in the hot oil, followed by the sizzle of meat hitting the wok.

She drizzled in the sauce, and an enticing cloud of steam rose from the pan.

In no time at all, a glistening, fragrant plate of home-style stir-fry was ready.

Then came the second dish, and the third…

An hour later, three dishes and a soup were neatly arranged on the stone table in the courtyard.

Stir-fried seasonal vegetables, braised pork slices, mapo tofu, and a pot of steaming egg drop soup.

They were the simplest of home-cooked dishes, yet they exuded an aroma that was utterly appetizing.

Lu Hongzhuang sat at the table, gazing at the spread before her, somewhat lost in a reverie.

Ever since her master’s passing, she had been the sole occupant of this small courtyard.

It was always cold, always silent.

She had grown accustomed to eating her meals at the Demon Exorcism Division’s mess hall and returning to an empty home.

But now…

The aroma of the food, the lingering scent of a hearth, and the woman across from her, stuffing her face with complete abandon.

This place… it was starting to feel a little like a home.

“So, how is it?” Su Qinghan asked, her voice muffled by a mouthful of food, her cheeks puffed out. “Not too bad, right?”

Lu Hongzhuang picked up a slice of pork and placed it in her mouth.

It was rich without being greasy, perfectly savory, and so tender it melted on her tongue.

She then tried the tofu; it was numbing, spicy, and savory—perfectly suited to be eaten with rice.

‘It really is… quite good.’

“It’s passable,” she said, unwilling to concede.

Su Qinghan raised a smug eyebrow and helped herself to a large bowl of rice.

“Impressive, isn’t it? My skills, as a Daoist master, are second to none!”

“I’m a master in the hall and a chef in the kitchen, I can draw divine talismans and fend off ruffians.”

Lu Hongzhuang ignored her, silently lowering her head and shoveling rice into her mouth.

The speed at which she ate, however, was noticeably faster than usual.

After the meal, Lu Hongzhuang silently gathered the dishes and took them to the kitchen to be washed.

Meanwhile, Su Qinghan hobbled over to the stone table on her crutch and began to lay out the items Lu Hongzhuang had purchased.

Yellow talisman paper, cinnabar ink, and a wolf-hair brush.

She then took a small porcelain vial from her personal pouch, pouring a few drops of clear liquid into the inkstone to grind with the cinnabar powder.

It was ‘rootless water’ that she had collected—an essential ingredient for drawing talismans.

When Lu Hongzhuang emerged from the kitchen after washing the dishes, this was the scene that greeted her.

Moonlight, as fluid as water, spilled across the small courtyard.

Beside the stone table, Su Qinghan sat bolt upright, her expression one of deep concentration.

She held a trimmed sheet of yellow talisman paper in her left hand, while her right held the brush, wrist hovering, its tip saturated with cinnabar.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the tip of the brush descended.

The wolf-hair brush glided across the paper, at times as swift as lightning, at others as sinuous as a dragon.

One after another, profound and complex runes took shape under her hand.

Standing a short distance behind her, Lu Hongzhuang held her breath.

She could feel that with every stroke of Su Qinghan’s brush, an invisible energy in the surrounding air was being drawn in, converging upon the small sheet of paper.

Su Qinghan’s complexion grew visibly paler by the second.

Fine beads of cold sweat broke out on her forehead.

After finishing one talisman, she paused, closing her eyes to regulate her breathing for a moment before picking up a second sheet.

One, two, three…

As she was finishing the sixth, her wrist suddenly trembled, causing a minute deviation in the final stroke.

“Tsk.”

Su Qinghan clicked her tongue in annoyance and tossed the brush aside.

As if drained of all her strength, she slumped limply onto the stone table, looking utterly exhausted.

“That’s… all you can manage?” Lu Hongzhuang stepped forward, her gaze fixed on the six talismans on the table, which now emitted a faint red glow.

“Obviously…” Su Qinghan’s voice was faint and weak. “Did you think this was just calligraphy…? This drains one’s very essence…”

She remained slumped over the table, lacking even the strength to lift her head.

Looking at her exhausted state, Lu Hongzhuang felt a strange pang in her heart.

She bent down and carefully scooped Su Qinghan into her arms.

She was still just as light as before.

Lu Hongzhuang carried her inside, laid her gently on the bed, and pulled the quilt over her.

Once that was done, she quietly left the room and returned to the courtyard.

She walked over to the stone table and picked up the talisman Su Qinghan had ruined.

‘Is it really that exhausting?’

She picked up the wolf-hair brush and, mimicking Su Qinghan, dipped it into the remaining cinnabar in the inkstone.

Recalling the sequence and strokes Su Qinghan had used, she began to trace them from memory onto a blank sheet of yellow paper.

It went surprisingly well.

Though her brushstrokes were somewhat clumsy, she managed to draw the complete rune.

‘This isn’t so difficult, after all.’

Lu Hongzhuang held up her own handiwork, examining it from all angles.

It looked no different from the ones Su Qinghan had drawn.

She mimicked Su Qinghan’s posture from that night in the ruined temple, holding the talisman between her index and middle fingers.

Facing the courtyard gate, she cleared her throat and mimicked that cool, detached tone.

“Go!”

The talisman flew from her fingers.

However, the spectacular display of golden light and formidable power she had imagined failed to materialize.

The yellow slip of paper merely spun lazily in the air before fluttering to the ground like a common autumn leaf.

Silence descended upon the courtyard.

Only the evening breeze stirred, rustling the paper as it skittered across the ground.

Lu Hongzhuang stood frozen in place, her expression utterly blank.

Nothing happened.

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