Please Leave The Cooking To Me

The horizon painted itself in a breathtaking tapestry of colors as the sun fully emerged, casting golden rays across the morning sky. Li Yao stepped from her room, stretching her arms overhead with catlike grace, satisfaction evident in every movement.

"Today's cultivation was great," she declared to the empty mountain air, her voice carrying a melodic quality that matched the awakening birdsong.

A mischievous smile bloomed across her delicate features as her body suddenly blurred—one moment standing outside her quarters, the next materializing at her senior brother's window with preternatural speed. She pressed her face against the cool glass, eyes scanning the humble interior.

"That's weird," she murmured, genuine puzzlement replacing her playfulness. "He isn't here."

Li Yao's brow furrowed in confusion. Her senior brother wasn't exactly known for his early-rising tendencies—quite the opposite. The empty room defied all established patterns of his behavior. Where could he possibly have gone at this hour?

Memory flashed through her mind—images of him training diligently the previous night, swinging his practice blade with unexpected dedication until darkness had fully enveloped the mountain. A seed of worry took root in her heart. Had he pushed himself too far? Collapsed from exhaustion somewhere in the forest? Spent the entire night exposed to the elements?

"I need to check on him," she decided firmly, immediately springing into action.

She bounded across the mountainside, leaping from tree to tree with effortless agility. Branches barely whispered at her passing, her movements so fluid they hardly disturbed the morning stillness. When she finally reached the training clearing, she halted abruptly, eyes widening in astonishment.

There stood her senior brother, still practicing, his knife slicing through the air with determined precision. Sweat glistened on his brow despite the morning's coolness, evidence of prolonged exertion.

"Has he been here all night?" she wondered silently, observing the desperate intensity etched into his features as he executed each movement.

Li Yao contemplated approaching him, her hand half-raised in greeting before slowly lowering again. After several heartbeats of indecision, she shook her head and silently retreated, leaping back into the forest canopy and disappearing as quietly as she had arrived.

Below, completely oblivious to his visitor, Xiang Yu continued his relentless practice. His movements flowed more naturally today, each swing of the knife more refined than the previous day's clumsy attempts. He paused briefly to wipe sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, a small surge of satisfaction warming his chest.

"I'm getting the hang of this," he thought, yet something nagged at the edges of his consciousness—a vague sense of something forgotten or overlooked.

"Probably not that important," he concluded, dismissing the sensation.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Without warning, Xiang Yu found himself staring up at the sky, flat on his back, with no memory of how he'd gotten there. Confusion clouded his thoughts as he struggled to make sense of his sudden change in perspective. Had he fainted? Tripped over his own feet?

As his senses slowly recovered, a sweet, alluring fragrance wafted through the air, teasing his nostrils with its tantalizing promise. His stomach responded immediately with a furious growl that seemed to echo across the clearing.

With considerable effort, Xiang Yu pushed himself upright, swaying slightly as he stood. Following the scent like a man possessed, he stumbled through the forest until he emerged into another clearing.

"Senior brother, you're here!" Li Yao's delighted voice greeted him as she looked up from her task. "I was just about to come find you!"

Xiang Yu's gaze fixed on the scene before him—Li Yao tending to a makeshift spit where a wild boar rotated slowly over crackling flames. The realization hit him with the force of a spiritual attack: in his frenzied dedication to training, he had completely forgotten to eat. Not a single morsel had passed his lips since... when? Yesterday morning?

Unlike powerful cultivators who could sustain themselves on spiritual energy alone, his pathetically mortal body still required mundane nourishment. If not for his junior sister's thoughtfulness, he might have become the first transmigrator in history to die not from a cultivation calamity but from simple starvation.

He quickly joined Li Yao, who generously shared her bounty, watching with curiosity as tears streamed down his cheeks while he devoured the food.

"Does senior brother truly enjoy my cooking this much?" she wondered, her heart warming at the thought that her simple gesture could evoke such emotion.

The truth, however, couldn't have been further from her interpretation. Xiang Yu's tears weren't born of joy or gratitude but of sheer culinary suffering. The meat tasted overwhelmingly of smoke and ash, with an unpleasant aftertaste that lingered on his tongue like a punishment. Yet hunger drove him onward, forcing bite after terrible bite until his stomach finally stopped threatening rebellion.

When he had eaten his fill of the barely edible meal, Xiang Yu placed his hands solemnly on Li Yao's shoulders, meeting her expectant gaze with grave seriousness.

"Junior sister," he began, choosing his words carefully, "from now on, please leave the cooking to me."