Chapter 81 “So Neither of Us Is Forthright Enough”

"Master."

The boy lifted his head. 

"This grass tastes terrible."

He had eyes the color of pale violet and cobalt-blue hair that trailed down to his ankles. He looked to be about ten years old, with bright eyes and white teeth. He frowned at the bowl in front of him—some so-called immortal herb…

But to him, it tasted no better than a clump of foxtail weeds.

He furrowed his brow and called out to the woman seated at the mountaintop: 

"It's awful!"

His clear, boyish voice echoed through the cliffs, resounding in the empty valley.

"Bosacius." 

The woman opened her eyes slightly—eyes serene as a painting. Her long hair, dark as the mountains at dusk, fell naturally in the mountain wind. Her voice was elegant and calm, reminiscent of silent snowfall on the peaks and the hush of melted snow dripping into a clear spring: 

"Cultivators must not be noisy." 

"This Glaze Lily is a natural creation, unadorned and pure—perfect for cultivation. Hmph," she added. "Those common dishes in town—what's so good about them?" 

"I'm still growing," the boy retorted seriously, pointing at himself to emphasize that he was still just a child. "Growing!"

In his previous life, he must have been some short-lived drunkard who couldn't part with liquor or smoke; otherwise, how would he end up forced to cultivate like this in some mountain as an 'immortal disciple?'

Time in the mountains seemed to flow without measure.

"Besides, even if it's Glaze Lily, you can still cook it to taste good!" He tapped irritably at the greenish mush in the bowl with his chopsticks. "Could it be… your cooking skill is just terrible?"

"Bosacius." 

"If you want to pursue 'gastronomy,' by all means go become a disciple of the God of the Stove. No need to come to my peak." 

"Remember this: this immortal cares not at all for your eating preferences."

Clearly, the mountaintop voice had chilled with displeasure.

Seeing his master angry, Bosacius dared not keep talking, silently lamenting that today he was in real trouble.

Master's been in a bad mood lately—I shouldn't have provoked her, he thought. She's been going in and out of the alchemy room these days—perhaps she's refining some great elixir.

Cloud Retainer cast a cool glance downward, gazing at him calmly: 

"For now, go copy The Art of Talismans and Cultivation: From Novice to Expert a hundred times."

Bosacius sulked. "Never eating this again."

…

It was all quite strange. 

Cloud Retainer frowned, lightly biting the tip of her finger as she pondered. When she was stuck on mechanical designs or faced any conceptual bottleneck, she often wore that same expression.

She looked at the cookbook in her hands, Cooking: From Novice to Expert, then looked at the alchemy furnace.

According to the book, you were supposed to take a clay pot, simmer the Glaze Lily on low heat, wait until the broth turned a delicate golden color, then add radish, thus finishing a delicious Glaze Lily Radish Soup.

She had followed every step in the book. 

Since there was no clay pot in her immortal dwelling, she'd substituted her alchemical furnace from the mechanism workshop. As for "low heat," she had turned the immortal fire down to its absolute lowest setting—except the broth never turned golden. The moment the flame weakened, the Glaze Lily turned into a sticky mess.

Handling the stove's heat was a delicate task indeed. 

The more she experimented, the more she realized this truth.

And Bosacius—that brat—turned out to be a picky eater! 

Yet she still believed she'd done well making Glaze Lily Radish Soup. Ganyu had finished every drop. It was only that kid who didn't appreciate it.

This thought made Cloud Retainer rather annoyed. 

"'If you want to pursue 'gastronomy,' go find the God of the Stove. There's no need to bother on my mountain.'"

She recalled the words she had said a few days back. Cloud Retainer wasn't the type to lock herself away and be inflexible. Perhaps she really ought to consult with the God of the Stove, Marchosius?

Marchosius was the ancient god presiding over hearths and the livelihood of the people, born of sparks struck from stone. 

Of course, Bosacius mustn't know she was seeking help; otherwise, he'd get carried away. Cloud Retainer had already declared she didn't care what that foolish disciple ate—she was simply fascinated by learning in general.

Then let her go see the God of the Stove.

---

"Mr. God of the Stove, could you please not tell my master?" Bosacius said politely. "I'm here to ask for your help. Please, don't mention it to her."

The God of the Stove was an ancient deity, yet he gave no impression of a mighty god at all. 

He dressed plainly, with broad shoulders, resembling a big brown bear. Indeed, he seemed like a polite bear—kind and gentle. With a rough palm, he patted Bosacius's head. His pale yellow eyes locked onto him.

He didn't say much. He simply gave a thumbs-up, an expression of leave it to me on his face.

He had to cook a feast worthy enough for his master, so she would learn what real delicious food was.

Bosacius had set his mind on it.

He'd noticed that for the past few days, that woman—his master—had been holed up in her alchemy chamber, diligently cultivating. Surely she was facing some cultivation hurdle he couldn't help with as her disciple. So, he decided that when she emerged, he would surprise her with a grand meal.

Let her see that her disciple is still quite capable!

Hence, Bosacius came to the God of the Stove, hoping to learn some skill.

"A good child."

Marchosius was a god closest to humanity, steward of the warmth and bustle of mortal life. Though he spoke little, he could more or less see through Bosacius's deeper motives. 

He patted the boy's cobalt-blue hair, ruffling it as he smiled kindly. "A good child."

"Please, sir—don't misunderstand," Bosacius insisted, clearly embarrassed at the praise and trying to defend himself: 

"It's just that our meals are too awful, and I'd like to improve them a bit, that's all. There's nothing more to it."

"Mhm. Mmm." The God of the Stove still wore that benevolent smile.

"And… not telling my master is because she might kick me out for being too greedy about my meals. She's always saying that indulging in the pleasures of the palate is taboo for us immortals." 

Feeling vexed, he tried to shift the blame: "It's Ganyu who told me to come!"

"Mhm. Mmm." Marchosius nodded, still chuckling good-naturedly.

He said nothing else, only taking out a block of fresh tofu to signal that the lesson was about to begin.

---

The sun sank into evening, swathing the mountains in warm color. The light glowed like translucent clouds, occasionally spotted with a dim patch that stained the sky like scarlet mottle.

"Marchosius," Cloud Retainer said calmly. The crane raised her gaze, her voice betraying no extra emotion. "I've come to consult you on something. Don't let anyone know."

"You mean, don't tell Bosacius?" the God of the Stove asked, blinking in confusion.

"That… ahem, what does this have to do with that boy?"

The crane stepped forward, blue-tinted feathers floating in the cool air, shifting into a robe-like garment. Coughing softly, she added, "I just don't see any need to publicize it."

The God of the Stove blinked again.

They… truly were a close master and disciple. 

A direct lineage…

He gave a knowing look, for even their manner of speaking revealed how alike they were.

Indeed, they were very close.

The God of the Stove, a warm and patient deity, was quite happy to teach cooking skills to this amusing pair. 

It felt interesting to him—teaching them both at the same time, seeing who could produce the tastier dish!

Scheduling wouldn't be hard: let Cloud Retainer come in the mornings and Bosacius in the evenings, so they wouldn't run into each other. 

Wearing that same honest smile, he raised his thumb again in a leave it to me gesture.

Cloud Retainer, not understanding why he smiled like that, cleared her throat. 

"Well then. Let us begin. I've brought my alchemy furnace."

"An… alchemy furnace?" The God of the Stove blinked, perplexed. "AN ALCHEMY FURNACE…?"

---

Time in the mountains blurred as they practiced. Cooking seemed to take on that same timeless quality.

Cloud Retainer worked on Glaze Lily Radish Soup. As God of the Stove taught, the most crucial elements were the freshness of the ingredients and the precise control of cooking time. Leave it on the heat too long or not long enough, and you'd lose the delicate flavor of the ingredients. The God of the Stove sternly criticized her for using an alchemy furnace to simmer soup…

Bosacius, on the other hand, was learning to make Jewelry Soup, a dish unknown to the common folk—supposedly his own creation. 

In essence, it was tofu, lotus seeds, and other items all tossed together in a big stew. Despite its grand name, it was really just a big mishmash… Yet under the God of the Stove's careful guidance, he refined each step patiently, honing his knife work and temperature control…

The God of the Stove truly was a wonderful, kind god.

And so the days passed.

It was the same unchanging routine in the mountains—uneventful, day after day, with ordinary conversations and ordinary happenings, warmed by the gentle sunlight. Perhaps one might call it daily life.

…

"Master! Ganyu, our little junior, is missing!" 

"Bosacius, do not cause a ruckus. Perhaps she simply rolled down the mountain." 

… 

"Master! Ganyu got eaten by a monster… but the monster died of overeating!" 

"Stop making a racket." 

… 

"Master, I've made a pair of glasses!" 

"Glasses? Interesting. Let this immortal see…" 

…

Day after day went by. Their cooking skills improved steadily.

At dawn each day, Cloud Retainer would leave Mt. Aocang under the pretense of "visiting fellow immortals," trailing faint clouds across her snowy wings.

As for Bosacius, come dusk, he'd have Ganyu cover for him as he slipped away. With the resplendent sunset staining the mountain forests, he'd descend the rugged trail step by step, returning in the dead of night.

After a month of this, Bosacius felt ready to graduate.

Of course, there was a price to pay: his little junior, Ganyu, had grown rounder each day from taste-testing. She really did start looking like a chubby little ball.

Lately, Master wasn't constantly in the alchemy room anymore—likely she had overcome the bottleneck in her cultivation. Perfect. Now he could show Master the flavors of the common folk. She was always eating wild plants and flowers, calling it foolish to enjoy "the pleasures of the palate."

Surely she was exhausted from her recent closed-door cultivation. A tofu soup would be the best way to nourish her.

That day, before dawn, the valleys were still cloaked in grayish mist. Bosacius opened his eyes.

He prepared the softest tofu—no heavy seasoning, just letting the ingredients' original flavors shine. Everything was ready.

A bowl of hot Tofu Soup in the morning was perfect for the stomach.

Cloud Retainer was often meditating at the highest point of Mt. Aocang, so Bosacius left the house and climbed the winding path upward, soon spotting his master's figure.

The golden morning light fell upon her tall silhouette. Seemingly sensing Bosacius's presence, she glanced back and saw her big, silly disciple panting up the slope.

Cloud Retainer coughed once as though she were torn about something. Then she said, 

"Bosacius, this immortal has something for you…"

She had to show that foolish disciple that his master was no slouch in the culinary arts either!

"Master." 

The boy beamed, lifting the food container in his hands, as if flaunting an achievement: 

"I've also brought something for you."

"?" Cloud Retainer arched a brow.

Bosacius removed the lid. A light, subtle aroma drifted around the mountain air. Soft cubes of tofu floated in a pale broth, white as jade. A few lotus seeds dotted the surface—indeed, like scattered pearls.

Large leaves of tender cabbage served as the "jewelry," and with the tofu's silky texture, the lotus seeds' clean fragrance, and the cabbage's simple freshness, all the flavors combined naturally.

"What is this?" she asked.

"It's a dish I invented myself." 

Puffing out his chest proudly, the boy announced: 

"Even Little Junior Ganyu says it's tasty. God of the Stove named it 'Jewelry Soup.' You've gotta try it, Master! I made it especially—er, I mean, I made some by the way, just for you."

"God of the Stove even praised my talent."

God of the Stove…

Cloud Retainer tentatively took the container. She picked up a piece of tofu with her chopsticks and placed it in her mouth. For a moment, she said nothing, only closing her eyes.

"Master..?" Bosacius tilted his head, big bright eyes filled with anticipation. "...How is it?"

"…It's decent," Cloud Retainer said quietly.

"Then have some more!" he urged. "Tofu Soup is great for digestion and—"

"Indulging in your taste buds is a cultivator's taboo," Cloud Retainer said coolly. "Take your dish away. This immortal shall not eat further."

With that, she turned and left the summit.

"You said you had something to give—"

"You must have been hearing things. If you truly want to learn cooking, go be the God of the Stove's disciple. Don't come to me again."

…

She had lost to her own disciple. 

Cloud Retainer looked at the bowl of Glaze Lily Radish Soup.

Just from tasting that one piece of tofu, she knew her disciple's skill far surpassed her own.

That boy… actually did go to the God of the Stove to learn.

She suddenly understood the meaning behind the God of the Stove's puzzling smile. Cloud Retainer still remembered Bosacius's expression—those clear eyes reflecting the dawn light, brimming with pride and delight.

Bosacius had always been like that—opinionated, doing things in secret, not telling anyone, not even his master, but then executing them splendidly… Cloud Retainer had a premonition that someday, he would leave.

She had never been able to do much about that foolish disciple.

But that tofu truly was delicious.

She gave a wry smile. 

If that's what he wanted, let him do as he pleased.

After she left him behind, quite some time passed. When evening came, painting the peaks in dusk, Cloud Retainer heard someone knocking at her door.

"Master, I left the soup on the stone table outside." 

Cloud Retainer stayed silent. Bosacius was quiet a long while, then he spoke softly, "Alright… fine, I admit it. I made it especially for you."

What…?

"Ah… because…"

The boy paused. "Mr. God of the Stove once said that the warmth of mortal life is the best comfort for a weary heart. So I thought… maybe if I cooked something truly delicious, it would help you. You've been working hard lately… I just wanted to make it for you."

"I did my homework, you know."

"Tofu warms the stomach, lotus seeds are your favorite snack, and cabbage is good for nourishment… But my cooking skills are limited, so I only know how to toss everything in a pot."

He scratched his head. "That's why I went to ask the God of the Stove for advice. I kept it from you; I lied… that's my fault, because… because I'm… not forthright enough."

Cloud Retainer said nothing.

"I've left the Jewelry Soup on the stone table," Bosacius added. "I'll go now. If you finish it, I'll be really happy. Ganyu will be happy too. By the way, she paid a great price in helping me—she's puffed up like a little ball."

Outside, footsteps slowly faded into the distance.

That child…

So that was it.

It was all so… typical of her own disciple—someone personally trained by Cloud Retainer. 

A disciple who 'isn't forthright enough.'

Yes, so that's it. Turns out, neither of us is forthright…

Cloud Retainer shook her head helplessly, glancing at her now-cold bowl of Glaze Lily Radish Soup. Perhaps in the future, she'd let him try her cooking, too. Rising to her feet, Cloud Retainer left her dwelling.

The tofu was soft, melting in the mouth, the piping hot broth sliding gently down the throat. The heat spread, warming her chest, then branching through her meridians to every limb.

Cradling the bowl, Cloud Retainer recalled the God of the Stove's words. Perhaps he was right—this homely warmth of the mortal realm truly did soothe the spirit.

Flavor is also memory; and memories can often comfort the heart.

Years later, when the world changed and the God of the Stove and Bosacius would run into each other in some Liyue tavern, they would toast one another—strangers in name, yet somehow evoking a sense of closeness, of nostalgia.

Much like now.

As Cloud Retainer uttered, "Who disturbs my peace in these mountains?" Seino Yaku turned around, feeling that the immortal crane perched on the treetop seemed inexplicably friendly.