Chapter 3: A Simple Poddige

Chapter 3: A Simple Poddige

The smell hit him first.

Plain rice. Salted eggs. Maybe some leftover millet steamed into a thin porridge—watery, no ginger, no oil. Su Yun stood in the doorway of the kitchen, silent, staring at the pot on the stove.

Last time he was starving for 2 whole days, he didn't found anything wrong with Poddige.

He just realized, this man's kitchen had only most basic kitchen supplies .

Ren Shang sat on a short stool beside it, fanning the weak flame with a handwoven fan. The firewood barely crackled.

There was no sound except the faint rustle of the fan and the occasional groan from the wooden lid as steam pushed against it.

Su Yun stepped closer. The soles of his cloth shoes made no sound across the swept earthen floor. He looked once at the shelf beside the stove.

The jars were lined neatly, but half of them were empty. Salt, soy paste, and pickled mustard roots—that was it. No sesame oil. No dried chili. No vinegar.

The pot let out a slow bubble. Ren Shang lifted the lid. Inside was a pale soup that looked like someone had forgotten to cook it at all.

He didn't notice Su Yun at first. Not until Su Yun moved closer and quietly said, "That's porridge?"

Ren Shang turned. He blinked once. "Mm."

There was no awkwardness in his posture, but no invitation either. He simply reached for a bowl, ladled the porridge in, and pushed it across the worn table.

Su Yun didn't sit. He looked at the bowl, then at the stove again. "You don't have firewood?"

Ren Shang raised an eyebrow. "I have enough."

"You cook like this every day?"

Ren Shang didn't answer.

Su Yun stared at the watery porridge for another moment, then pulled back the sleeves of his robe. "Move," he said.

Ren Shang looked up, still holding the ladle. "What?"

"Move," Su Yun repeated, voice low but steady. "I'll do it."

The other man hesitated for a long moment. Then, without a word, he stood and stepped aside.

Su Yun moved like someone walking through familiar steps. First to the side pantry—his eyes scanning the shelves quickly. Rice, yes. But coarse. And poorly stored. Some of it had gone chalky at the bottom of the sack.

He wrinkled his nose but took a portion out anyway.

Then, back to the shelf. He sniffed a small jar—bean paste. Another, slightly moldy pickled turnips. He set it aside and checked a tin tucked near the back. Dried scallions. A few thin slivers of ginger.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

He washed the rice carefully, rubbing it between his palms until the water turned cloudy, then clear. He set it to boil in fresh water and added the ginger. Just a few slices. Enough to warm the stomach.

Ren Shang didn't speak. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.

The kitchen had no warmth. Not just from the low flame, but the absence of any life in it. No drying herbs. No hanging peppers. Not even a fish bone left to flavor soup.

Su Yun found a chipped pan tucked beneath the shelf and cleaned it with hot water.

There were two eggs left in the bamboo basket. He cracked one, whisked it with salt and a little of the scallion, and poured it into the pan when the oil heated.

It hissed softly, then stilled. The scent rose—egg and onion and heat.

Ren Shang shifted but said nothing.

Su Yun didn't ask for help. He didn't speak again either. He moved slowly, like someone stirring memory back to life.

The second egg went into the pot to poach with the porridge. When everything was done, he laid the food out—simple, but with balance.

Ren Shang approached the table quietly. He sat down across from Su Yun, picked up his chopsticks, and ate.

No comment. No praise. Not even a glance.

Su Yun didn't expect any.

He sat across from him and ate in silence too. But Ren Shang's hands were fast. Or atleast faster than when he was eating Poddige last time.

This was enough to comfort Su Yun's chef heart.

The egg was soft, the scallions sharp, the porridge warm enough to chase out the early morning chill. It wasn't much. But it was food.

Ren Shang finished his bowl, then stood and carried it to the basin. He rinsed it without a word, then set it upside down on the rack.

Su Yun didn't move.

As Ren Shang dried his hands on a cloth, he paused at the door. His voice came low.

"You don't have to do this."

Su Yun kept his eyes on the bowl in front of him. "I know. But I can't bear to eat food made by you."

Silence lingered.

Ren Shang nodded and left.

Su Yun sat alone at the table for a moment longer. His gaze drifted back to the stove, to the way the flame still clung to the last of the firewood.

It wasn't kindness. He wasn't grateful yet.

But the kitchen smelled like food again.

And that was a beginning, of his new life.