Chapter 5: The Gathering (Part 2)
Oh no!
Jima leaned back against her chair, ready to spit out the broccoli, but it was too late; the chewed broccoli had already been swallowed.
Yet the indescribable taste was spreading from her throat, causing her throat to convulse as if it wanted to expel the chewed broccoli.
Jima decided to swallow it down entirely; her esophagus could feel the chewed broccoli sliding down, the sensation was like walking to the pot of pestilence, requesting a large fly from it to swallow.
The chewed broccoli fell into her stomach, causing it to contract, and then the gastric juices bubbled violently, as if a dying fly was struggling in her stomach.
For a moment, Jima lifted her eyes, filled with horror, and looked at Jenna.
She never expected that the outwardly pure Holy Maiden Jenna had actually fallen to be a chosen one of pestilence. How infuriating; she had fallen for the trap.
No, she couldn’t let everyone eat this corrupted meal; everyone would be corroded into corpses.
Jenna, visibly worried, asked, “Jima, are you okay?”
The illusion of the pestilence stirring the pot disappeared, yet her stomach was still boiling. Jima realized it was just that the food was too horrible; her stomach, accustomed to the world’s delicacies, couldn’t handle it for a moment.
Thinking of this, Jima suppressed the bubbling in her stomach, revealing a natural smile, her eyes unable to hide the respect she felt as she looked at Jenna.
As a master chef, Jima knew the skill of Jenna well. With merely ordinary ingredients and seasonings, she managed to create such unpalatable food—so bad that even after it slid down her throat, she could still sense its flavor apart from her taste buds.
This was no ordinary food. It was as if she had created a singing “lamprey,” transcending ordinary cuisine.
No way, she couldn’t be the only one feeling nauseous.
Jenna looked on, both anxious and expectant, at one of her many teachers, and asked, “Jima?”
“Although I don’t understand the culinary principles behind it, I am deeply shocked.” The innate strong performance of the succubi Jima came into play, perfectly overshadowing the disgust on her face. Her face radiated light as she excitedly raised her chopsticks: “The sensation is hard to describe; I never expected that such a seemingly simple soup could cook broccoli in such a shocking way.”
Jenna’s eyes glistened with excitement as she said, “My efforts have finally been rewarded.”
“Have you been working hard on your cooking recently?”
“Yes, but everyone has been very polite, saying that I have healed so many people, and that they feel bad asking me to cook. I offer it to them, and they remember to share, so we all eat together.” Jenna lamented, “Human nature is still kind; I’ve seen too much darkness during the epidemic.”
It’s clearly the evil of human nature; if they were truly kind, they wouldn’t distinguish who cooked.
But Jima replied, “Yes, yes, maybe it’s Jenna’s cooking that has stirred the goodness in people’s hearts,” making them feel that living is such a joy.
After saying that, she looked at George, who was munching on a lamb shank that Jima had roasted, which was now a bit cold, but that didn’t stop George from enjoying it.
Jima grew displeased at once.
They say that couples should share hardships; even if they are about to break up, they should at least share difficulties beforehand, right?
In the bathroom, Jima stood up and smiled, “George, you should eat more.”
With that, she snatched George’s plate, and without a second thought, used a slotted spoon to scoop out broccoli from the soup that Jenna had made.
George looked up, placing the cleaned lamb bone aside and asked, “Are you up to no good?”
Jima glared at him: “What are you saying? Jenna, you judge.”
With that, she poured a scoop of bright green broccoli onto George’s plate.
Jenna looked at George, discontented, saying, “George, you should at least give it a try.”
Jima bent down and placed the plate in front of George. The broccoli was vibrant green, shiny, and appeared crispy and appetizing. Its appearance was enough to deceive even a master chef like Jima.
George hesitated for a moment, forked some out, and placed it in his mouth, chewing a few times before swallowing.
Jima was prepared to watch the show unfold, only to see George’s face remain normal.
Could it be that I just happen to have eaten a bad piece of broccoli?
Jenna clasped her hands together, asking, “How is it?”
At that moment, Lianxi, sitting next to Jima, mistakenly thought the broccoli was delicious and took a piece, putting it in her mouth.
“Don’t!” Jima couldn’t stop her in time.
Lianxi bit into the broccoli, chewed once, then immediately covered her throat with both hands, tilted her head back, and rolled her eyes.
“Xiao Li! Xiao Li!” Jima supported Lianxi, moved to her back, and used the Heimlich maneuver, pulling up hard twice.
Lianxi finally spat out half a piece of broccoli, flying between George and Jenna.
At this moment, Jima looked at George with admiration in her eyes.
He truly deserved to have eaten Jenna’s cooking for years; he was a chosen one indeed, able to eat Jenna’s latest dish.
Jenna’s face had turned pale, but she still couldn’t believe it, asking, “Is it really that bad?”
“It’s really bad,” George replied. “I don’t even know how to describe it.”
Jenna’s expression turned ashen as she said, “I’m sorry; I almost poisoned everyone.”
With that, she proactively reached to take her dish away.
George asked, “Jenna, have you tasted it before?”
Jenna nodded, forcing a smile.
George picked up a soup spoon, scooped some soup, and moved it to his lips.
Jima and Lianxi were shocked, especially Lianxi, whose mouth opened wide, feeling that the man who could hold his owner hostage was actually that reckless. Even Eve Frostleaf looked on with concern, worrying that this short-lived guy had mental issues from eating.
George drank it all in one go, smacked his lips, and scooped another spoonful.
Jima’s gaze turned sympathetic; this kid must indeed have a brain full of maggots.
But this time, George extended the spoon towards Jenna, saying, “You drink it.”
Jenna leaned forward, opened her mouth to take the spoon, cleaned it off, smacked her lips, and said, “The taste is just right; is it a bit salty?”
“My first impression upon entry was spiciness, then a foul taste that was both salty and bitter penetrated through my tongue; the subsequent taste is indescribable,” George concluded. “You must have a problem with your sense of taste. Frostleaf, do you have any chili?”
Frostleaf took out a bottle of terrifying devil’s chili.
Jima looked and had to drink several glasses of water.
George said, “Try it.”
Jenna cautiously took the devil’s chili powder, scooped it with a spoon, licked it with her tongue, and said, “It’s sweet?”
She couldn’t believe it and opened her mouth to pour in the chili powder. She swallowed a few mouthfuls of saliva, saying, “It’s sweet.”
“What have you been through lately?”
Jenna replied, “I think it’s the aftereffects.”
She recounted the tasting of the medicinal liquid to treat the Black Death.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Jenna smiled, “I didn’t want you to worry about me.”
“Although the issue cannot be resolved,” George said, “the burden will be lighter if several close people know.”
Jima didn’t know if she was lucky or unlucky; Jenna’s aftereffects were problems with her sense of taste, meaning her cooking would, no matter what, always result in terrible food.
Jenna sighed, deeply saddened, “I can never cook for everyone again; I only have the talent to make meals even more disgusting.”
“That’s not your fault, Jenna,” George said. “It’s just the price you pay for healing others; thinking of it this way, your dishes don’t seem that bad anymore.”
The pair of green eyes on Jenna’s egg-shaped face sparkled as she looked at George, her mood not as gloomy as before.
Jima couldn’t help but sigh; George really had a way with women, and she didn’t have the leisure to care. This guy could grow wings on his back for a reason. However, that’s just fine; your wife is also mine.
In the end, Jenna’s cooking remained on the table. She ate hers, while everyone else ate Jima’s dishes.
Jima’s cuisine focused on meat, with only one dish of stir-fried garlic shoots and meat being the highest in vegetable content, thus completely occupied by Eve Frostleaf, who loved vegetables.
This high elf, wearing a collar around her neck, was elegant as she sprinkled the devil’s chili powder from a silver bottle over the fresh green garlic shoots, the bright red chili powder floating over her white neck and chest.
Jima’s wicked thoughts sprang up; she quietly gave a thumbs up and pressed down subtly.
The pure Eve Frostleaf shivered suddenly, her long legs clamping tightly. Even her hands, capable of pulling a strong bow, couldn’t steady the silver bottle, spilling a handful of devil’s chili powder onto the green garlic shoots.
George asked, “Frostleaf, what’s wrong?”
Jima was eating normally, as if everything had nothing to do with her.
Eve Frostleaf took a deep breath, shook her head, and acted as if nothing happened, her legs tightly clamped under the table. Under George’s gaze, her reaction was even more intense than she had imagined.
Now she knew what the toy the size of a jujube seed was truly for.
She picked up a pair of chopsticks, pinched some garlic shoots coated with chili powder, her face immediately flushed, her forehead drenched with fine sweat, and her long ears reddened as well.
When George turned his gaze away and focused on eating, Eve Frostleaf finally raised her face and shot a furious glance at Jima.
Jima felt nothing but joy as she glanced at George.
This kid hadn’t even realized he was wearing a green hat; licking her lips, she raised her thumb up again, pressing down with more force.
Eve Frostleaf instantly gasped, her long ears quivered, and both hands formed fists against the table. She nearly couldn’t hold on any longer and let out a sound of embarrassment.
But the detestable succubus always managed to test her limits. Before Eve Frostleaf could no longer endure, Jima released her hold.
The ice melted, and a few drops of water fell onto the floor, the sound of dripping clear to Eve Frostleaf, her ears reddening even more.
George looked at Eve Frostleaf and asked, “Frostleaf, are you really okay? You look like you have a fever.”
Jima, while putting red wine braised beef in her mouth, suggested, “Maybe Frostleaf had too much chili; that stuff is particularly spicy.”
Her tail stood straight up, slanted against the floor.
Eve Frostleaf picked up the nearby ice milk and poured it into her mouth, misleading George.
After finishing their meal, Jima was brewing her evil plan when George called out to her.
“I want to talk to you about something.”
Could he have figured it out?
Jima felt a bit anxious but smiled and said, “Sure.”
