Chapter 109 Chapter 110 Farewell Party (Part 2)
Jima stirred the soup in the pot, the blue liquid shimmering with specks of light, as if mixed with colorful glass shards.
Alchemy, no, cooking is truly a magical process.
Jima was in a good mood, humming a little tune, stirring clockwise three times and counterclockwise three times.
“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm~.”
The off-key tune reached Jenna’s ears, and she had been holding back, not wanting to look at Jima’s creation.
As Jima was half of Jenna’s cooking teacher, Jenna knew very well how advanced Jima’s cooking skills were, which she could hardly aspire to. She could only rely on hard work and concentration to beat the high-skilled but distracted Jima.
She worried that looking at Jima’s creation would undermine her confidence.
“Joyful, joyful♪…”
Is this a song? Why does it sound like a witch’s curse?
Jenna could no longer suppress her curiosity, turned her head, and looked at Jima.
She saw the black-haired succubus stirring the bubbling iron pot, with wisps of green-tinted smoke rising, brushing across her face and turning her complexion green, looking extremely eerie.
She continued to recite a chant, her voice low but grating.
In an instant, Jenna recalled the swamp witch she saw back in the treehouse, who was said to always stir a cauldron filled with toads, centipedes, and even the heads of little children dug up from graves.
Jenna rubbed her eyes; if not for Jima’s beautiful and familiar face, she would have thought Jima had been replaced by a swamp witch.
Jenna poked Jima’s back, “Jima, Jima…”
“Ah? What’s up?”
Jima was just lifting an ailing lamprey and placing it on the pot to smoke; the lamprey reflected light in the green smoke, wriggling its body vigorously. Jima’s hand slipped, and the lamprey fell into the pot.
Plop, plop.
A few drops of blue liquid splashed out of the pot.
“What are you doing?”
“Of course I’m alchemizing, no, cooking.” Jima’s expression was calm as she casually put a lid on the pot, shaking it gently. “By the way, can’t you check the temperature of the dough?”
“No.” Jenna smiled at Jima, “I’m just curious about what dish you’re making.”
“Oh, making a dish, huh.” Jima responded, “Then what are you going to make?”
“I want to make a cake, a pie, the one you taught me step by step last time.”
“Right, I also want to make a pie.” Jima clapped her hands, “Let’s call it ‘The Pie of Stargazing.'”
“Sounds like it was just thought up.”
“How is that possible? Before cooking, you must know what dish you’re making; otherwise, it’s like cooking randomly.”
Sure enough, one cannot rely on the opponent for victory. Jima appeared lazy, but it might have been an act to lower my vigilance; she admitted herself that she was very good at acting.
Suddenly, in Jenna’s eyes, every move of Jima was full of deep meaning.
She cooked while singing, just like the blacksmith sung the smithing song while forging iron.
A dwarf blacksmith once told her that smiths sing to measure time and control heat; more importantly, their voices possess power that can change the properties of metal.
The incantation Jima just recited must be making the ingredients more delicious.
Jenna said, “I understand.” I must work harder; I am the rightful wife.
Jima froze for a moment and said, “Alright, I admit, I have no idea what to cook.”
Jenna: “Ah?”
After saying that, Jima fished out the half-cooked lamprey from the pot, placing it on a plate. Jenna saw with her own eyes that the lamprey was still slightly wagging its tail.
“How do you turn a pot of soup into a pie?” Jima muttered, picking up a dried frog leg from the nearby bamboo basket. “Forget it, I should just cook it first.”
Jenna’s eye twitched for a moment, confirming that Jima wasn’t really cooking at all.
But that’s fine, only a wife knows how to cater to her husband’s appetite; a lover merely throws tantrums and produces bizarre dishes that torment a man’s palate.
The more delicious her cooking is, the more it reflects her love for George.
Jenna turned around, feeling victory within her grasp, but still exerting herself fully to deal with the dough.
On the other side.
Jima looked contently at the green glow emanating from the frog leg as it dissolved into the mysterious liquid in the pot.
She could see the magical powers within various ingredients and had been extracting their powers to infuse them into the liquid.
As for what potion would be produced in the end, wasn’t George going to be the guinea pig anyway?
After all, he is a paladin, immune to all poisons; he wouldn’t fall ill from a few bites.
Since they were leaving, isn’t it only reasonable to extract some utility from George?
Half an hour later.
Jima finally stopped boiling the soup after using all the ingredients.
She scooped a small spoonful of the broth; having cooked too long, the soup was semi-viscous. Jima blew on the liquid in the spoon, and it swayed back and forth.
“Well, we’ll find out how salty it is when George eats it,” Jima said, pouring the liquid back into the pot and turning to Jenna, “Jenna?”
“What’s the matter?”
“Did you buy the fruit?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Good.”
At least dinner had a place.
Jima thought about it while pouring the blue broth into the pure white flour.
Time flew by when one was busy.
Jima happily clapped her hands, having successfully turned the soup into the “Pie of Stargazing.” Feeling like her cooking skills had leapt to a new level.
Outside the window, the seventeenth bell chimed.
Almost simultaneously, the front door opened, and George walked in, holding a set of keys in his hand, among which was the bedroom key Jenna had longed for.
Watching that swaying bedroom key, Jima felt the slightest bit of guilt for using George as a guinea pig disappear without a trace.
“It smells so good,” George closed the door, “eating free food all day, sometimes I really feel guilty.”
Jenna, eager to speak first, said, “We are all family now; it’s only right for a wife to cook for her husband.”
The thoughts of the old feudal society were not as good as her mother’s; she didn’t need to cook but just needed to wash herself clean every day, take off her top, and get into bed.
As Jima pondered whimsically, she placed her dish on the small cart, both women’s dishes covered with shiny iron lids.
Jima found it troublesome, but Jenna said it was to give George a surprise. Jima thought about it, and indeed, having her dish presented with an iron lid would add a shock factor upon unveiling.
George walked over to the dining table, where drinks and fruit were prepared, just waiting for the main dish.
The two women pushed the cart in front of the table, and Jenna said, “Let’s serve mine first.”
As she spoke, her green eyes sparkled, looking at George and asking, “Want to guess what we’re having today?”
“I guess it’s onion stir-fried venison.”
“Did you smell the onion?”
“Yes.” George said, “This is the best dish you’ve made.”
Jenna’s corner of the eye twitched slightly; this was the first dish that Jima had taught her hands-on, and it was the dish she felt most confident about.
“You guessed right, the first dish is onion stir-fried venison.” Jenna lifted the lid, presenting the steaming dish in front of George, saying, “Don’t hurry; there’s another dish.”
As George was about to pick up his fork, Jima, who had taken her seat unnoticed, swiftly grabbed a piece of venison, biting into it.
Too many spices, and some spices were still raw, but it was edible.
As Jima chewed, she looked at George, saying, “Your wife’s cooking is really great.”
Saying this, Jima felt a pleasant thrill, as if she were giving someone a cuckold.
George frowned slightly; Jima was lying again, but why did she say that? He found women’s thoughts too hard to guess and gave up trying.
And Jenna, if it were someone else saying this, she might feel a bit shy and her spirits would soar. But if Jima said it, it felt somewhat subtle.
Was she trying to show how magnanimous she was? I will absolutely not lose.
Jenna’s smile remained undiminished as she unveiled the second dish, revealing a seemingly soft yellow peach pie, looking exquisite, the pie appeared tender, garnished with glossy peach slices, perfectly symmetrical, very considerate for those with obsessive-compulsive disorder.
A wave of fragrance rushed towards them.
George could hardly believe it and asked, “Did you make this?”
Jenna smiled and nodded, “Yes.”
At that moment, Jima transferred half of the onion venison onto her plate and grabbed a few bananas.
George asked, “Aren’t you going to have the first bite?”
“I suddenly remembered I’m on a diet today,” Jima said, placing an apple back, “I don’t like apples.”
Jenna’s original dish, you don’t know, but I still understand?
George furrowed his brows, and seeing that Jenna knew Jima was lying.
She blinked and asked, “By the way, Jima, you should unveil your dish too.”
“If you hadn’t said it, I would have forgotten.” Jima stood up, a disconcerting evil smile on her face, took the plate, pushed Jenna’s dish aside, placed it in front of George, and couldn’t help but laugh as she lifted the lid.
“What’s wrong?”
“I thought of something funny.” Jima placed her hand on the iron lid and said, “Look closely, my masterpiece.”
Jenna held her breath for a moment, feeling tense.
Jima lifted the lid, and a cloud of green mist burst forth; behind the mist, the dish looked grotesque, and at first glance, it was enough to cause your stomach to twist.
In the blue dough lay nine lampreys defiantly extending half of their bodies, heads pointing toward the sky, with nine funnel-shaped mouths filled with teeth facing the viewers. It had a sensation of being ready to pounce, clamping firmly onto your face, biting through your skin, and eagerly sucking your blood.
George felt a sting on his face and instinctively scooted his chair back.
Jima couldn’t hold back her laughter.
“What is this?”
“It’s called ’The Nine Dragons Going to Sea Pie.’” Jima restrained her laughter, “I originally wanted to call it ‘The Pie of Stargazing,’ but it lacks dominance.”
“With all due respect, it looks disgusting.”
“That’s fine; I forgive you.” Jima said, “After all, this is my heartfelt effort; today, you must eat it.”
George felt no appetite, only a curling sensation in his stomach.
Jima said, “Don’t dismiss my three-hour labor of love just because of appearances.”
As George picked up a knife and fork, aiming for the “Nine Dragons Going to Sea Pie,” one of the lamprey mouths suddenly twitched, emitting a curse-like jingle: “Joyful, joyful♪.”
George’s hand shook, hurriedly standing up to say, “Is this corrupted?”
The lamprey produced another unpleasant sound: “Mm-hmm, mm-hmm~.”
Jima rested her chin on her hand and said, “I think, in the process of extracting magic, I accidentally activated the ingredients. It learned the language of the devils from hell.”
George looked at Jima.
Jima shrugged, “What’s there to fear? It’s still fundamentally food; it just knows how to sing.”
George pointed out, “It’s clearly cursing.”
The lamprey stopped “cursing.”
“Now it’s not cursing anymore; it’s just plain old food.”
George said with difficulty, “Can I eat Jenna’s dish first?”
“Go ahead.”
Jenna said, “Please.”
After Jenna spoke, she unconsciously lifted her chin, like a hostess of the household, restoring her former demeanor.
There was no doubt that she had won this contest. Even if George was hardheaded, he could feel that she was the gentle and considerate wife.
George tried not to look at Jima’s “Nine Dragons Going to Sea Pie,” moving it aside, cut a small piece of Jenna’s peach pie, checking it into his mouth.
Once, twice… on the third chew, George paused.
Jenna asked hopefully, “How is it?”
George’s jaws seemed to stiffen as he forced himself to swallow, a smile appearing on his face, he asked, “Did you add garlic?”
“Yes, how does it feel?”
George nodded.
Jenna’s spirits soared, her face blossoming like a flower.
Jima cut half of Jenna’s peach pie and placed it on George’s plate, saying, “Tonight, I’m on a diet; you two can share this meal, half for you and half for her.”
George took a deep breath, the knife in his hand trembling. This was the first time he wanted to plunge the knife into Jima’s face.
Jenna rested her chin in her hands, looking at George with high hopes.
George forced a smile, speared a piece of peach pie, and just as his lips touched the pie, his stomach twisted violently, bile rose in his throat, and he suddenly retched.
Jenna’s smile froze, filled with cracks, shattering completely. If one looked closely, tears seemed to well up in the corners of her eyes.
Jima leisurely munched on a banana, casually handing her a napkin, comforting, “Take your time, George is still young; you have plenty of chances.”
Just as George was starting to recover, he suddenly felt that the second half of his life was filled with despair.
Moments ago, proud Jenna now resembled a deflated balloon until she saw the “Nine Dragons Going to Sea” dish, and a flicker of hope ignited in her heart.
Comparisons can be daunting, though her peach pie was poorly made, she also had her noteworthy onion stir-fried venison; against Jima’s hellish dish, what was originally subpar could now be considered excellent.
By then, George would surely devour the dishes she made.
At this moment, Jima patted George on the shoulder, offering a glass of water, asking, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay, thanks.”
“That’s good; there’s still my ‘Nine Dragons Going to Sea Pie’ filled with three hours of my effort.” Jima said, “The lamprey is so delicious that Charles III even died on the toilet after overindulging.”
George initially wanted to refuse, but then he noticed that Jenna was also looking at him with anticipation, saying, “Jima put in a lot of effort this afternoon.”
He sighed, swung the knife, sliced off the lamprey’s head, placed it on the plate, forked it, and like someone accepting their fate, closed his eyes and chewed forcefully.
Once, twice, three times…
Jenna, more anxious than Jima, asked, “How is it?”
George relaxed, swallowing, and said, “Now I finally understand why Charles III could die from it.”
Is it so terrible that it could kill?
Jenna’s eyes lit up, but she saw George pull out the headless lamprey, slice off a chunk, and stuff it into his mouth, eating heartily while muttering indistinctly, “Delicious.”
——
By the way, it is advisable not to search for lampreys; they really look frightening.
