Chapter Forty-Two: Moments of Relaxation

A sudden rumble from the stomach broke the long silence. Looking at Ye Qianling, who had bundled herself under the quilt, Chen Feng spoke to her in a calm tone, “I’ll have them cook a bowl of noodles for you, Fifth Princess. Please wait a moment.” With that, he turned to leave.

“I want dumplings,” came a small, embarrassed voice from beneath the quilt.

Chen Feng couldn’t hold back his amusement any longer and finally burst out laughing.

“What are you laughing at? Stop laughing, stop it!” Ye Qianling, flustered, poked her head out from under the covers and reached to cover Chen Feng’s mouth. Her face was so red it seemed it might ignite at any moment.

“All right, all right, I won’t laugh anymore.” Chen Feng quickly restrained himself, worried the Fifth Princess might get angry and do something unpredictable.

“Brother Feng, you finally stopped calling me Princess.” Ye Qianling’s hand paused for a few seconds, her heart aching a little as she withdrew her hand. “Brother Feng, we grew up together. I’ve always thought of you as my real brother. I know in public we have no choice, but in private, I truly hope you won’t be so formal with me. Will you?”

Chen Feng didn’t answer right away. He looked at Ye Qianling’s sincere expression and nodded. He knew it wasn’t entirely proper, but given how long they’d known each other, being too formal did feel awkward.

“Come with me to the kitchen. I’ll teach you how to make dumplings.” Chen Feng smiled, no longer so distant.

“What?” Ye Qianling’s eyes widened in disbelief as she grabbed Chen Feng’s arm. “You know how to make dumplings? Since when does a grown man like you know that? Oh, what a surprise. And you want to teach me?” She immediately let go and stepped back, waving her hands. “No, no, let’s not waste good ingredients. What if your dumplings can’t be eaten? I ought to preserve your dignity.”

“What, can’t a man learn to cook? Tell me, is there a single woman in charge of the palace kitchen?” Chen Feng was both amused and exasperated. The way Ye Qianling looked at him, you’d think a single dumpling lesson from him would ruin all the food stores in the capital.

“You’ll see, today I’ll learn how to make them. If I manage to teach you, you have to go back to the palace and bring Shi He over to eat with us.” Chen Feng seized the opportunity to make a wager.

“Deal, it’s a promise.” Ye Qianling knew Chen Feng liked her maidservant Shi He and wanted to help bring them together. Even if their dumplings didn’t turn out, she could always ask the palace chefs to make some, giving the two of them a chance to grow closer. But then she realized she’d missed a key word—go back to the palace!

Just as she was about to back out, Chen Feng said, “You can’t go back on your word. That’s not very honorable.”

Ye Qianling hadn’t returned to the palace for over half a month. Chen Feng wanted to use this opportunity to persuade her to go back; after all, holding a grudge with the emperor was pointless. Now that he finally had a chance, there was no way he’d let it slip.

Ye Qianling thought for a moment, rubbing her face in determination. “Let’s go, what are we waiting for? I’m really going all out for you, Brother Feng. I’ve never compromised with Father before. Now I can only hope you can’t actually make dumplings.” She grabbed Chen Feng’s arm and headed for the kitchen.

“What are you thinking about?” All the ingredients had been prepared, every pot, bowl, condiment, and rolling pin assembled, yet Ye Qianling still stood there lost in thought. Zhou Xiaojie waved a hand in front of her eyes.

Ye Qianling, lost in her memories, was startled back to reality. “Nothing, just thinking of the past.” She noticed all the ingredients ready on the table, and a small smile tugged at her lips. “You’re all so fast. I was distracted for just a moment, and everything’s ready.”

“We discussed it. Si Yan and I want the three-flavor filling, while Mr. Jian and Mr. Zhao prefer celery and beef. The others don’t mind. Since tastes differ, we decided to make both types. What do you think, Miss Wu?” Chu Zimu said, wiping his freshly washed hands with a towel as he sat down at the table.

“Sounds good. I’ll wash my hands and mix the filling.” Ye Qianling got up and, under everyone’s watchful gaze, washed her hands with clean water before starting to chop the dumpling filling.

From the moment they returned, Si Yan’s gaze had never left Ye Qianling. As the crown prince, he truly had no idea how to make dumplings, so he and Zhao Mengge busied themselves setting the table.

“Miss Wu, you don’t look like someone struggling to make ends meet at Xijiao Nanyuan. You seem more like a young lady from a noble family.” Zhou Xiaojie watched Ye Qianling’s deft hands, unable to hold back the thought.

As soon as she spoke, Si Yan and Chu Zimu both looked up, watching Ye Qianling’s movements pause.

Ye Qianling raised her eyebrows slightly but quickly resumed, her voice calm. “People have said that before. I honestly wish I were a noble lady, free from worry, able to live for the moment. Maybe it’s because I have no attachments, living for today, that I seem so carefree.”

“That makes sense,” Jian Suifei chimed in, glancing at her hands. Though they were delicate, he could see the calluses. Being perceptive, he understood she had her hardships and tried to ease the mood. “Your hands are indeed soft, but there are several calluses. No young lady of status would have so many. And besides, which noblewoman could cut off a tiger’s head with a single throwing knife?” He glanced at the silent Ye Qianling. “No matter. We’ve all seen your abilities. With your skills, you won’t suffer here in Xijiao Nanyuan.”

“Ying’ai, hand me some wrappers,” Ye Qianling said, steering the conversation away and glancing at Sui Ying’ai, who was quietly busying herself.

“Here.” Sui Ying’ai handed her a few wrappers and returned to her work, as if nothing concerned her.

“When did you two become so close?” Jian Suifei feigned annoyance, casting a mock-resentful glance at Ye Qianling, as if wondering why he couldn’t be so familiar with Sui Ying’ai.

In fact, when they first arrived at Xijiao Nanyuan, everyone could see Jian Suifei liked Sui Ying’ai, but the always-cold Sui Ying’ai gave him no mind. If anyone else liked Sui Ying’ai, their soon-to-be comrades might have helped, but with Jian Suifei’s notorious playboy reputation, no one dared play matchmaker.

Ye Qianling placed the finished dumplings on a plate and, hearing the jealousy in Jian Suifei’s voice, replied, “If you were a girl, we’d call you Xiao Feifei too.”

Everyone burst out laughing, even the usually stoic Zhao Mengge and Sui Ying’ai couldn’t help but smile.

“Miss Wu, you—” Jian Suifei was torn between laughter and exasperation. For a man who’d always lived playfully, this was the first time someone had so thoroughly roasted him. The atmosphere now relaxed, he suddenly thought of something, glanced at Si Yan, then turned to Ye Qianling, “Tell me honestly, did you know Mr. Chi before? Why are you two so close already, while I, who am devoted to Miss Sui, have never gotten a response? I think it’s very unfair.”

At this, Si Yan and Ye Qianling exchanged glances. Though neither wanted to admit it, their relationship after only a few days wasn’t at all like that of strangers. Whenever they were alone, an awkward tension always arose.

Chu Zimu wanted to scold Jian Suifei for his tactlessness. When neither Si Yan nor Ye Qianling answered immediately, he tried to smooth things over. But just as he was about to speak, Si Yan answered, his tone flat, “We didn’t know each other before. We first met on the day we registered.”

He didn’t answer the question about their progress, leaving Ye Qianling feeling awkward and wanting to escape. She cursed herself inwardly for being so easily affected by his concern.

What made her despise herself even more was realizing that her feelings for Si Yan weren’t affection, but dependency—a need for someone’s care after being deeply hurt. After all, they’d only known each other for a few days; how could there be real feelings? More foolish still, his concern was only an act of sympathy and charity toward someone weaker.

After he finished, Si Yan continued setting the table, still curious about how Ye Qianling would respond. Though he had no intention of toying with a girl’s feelings, in his world, power mattered above all else. He’d never known love or affection and thus had no understanding of it. To him, feelings were worthless, even contemptible.

Ye Qianling had made dumplings countless times—in the palace, in the army camps. The sheer number of soldiers meant she’d had to work quickly. In the time the others managed fewer than twenty dumplings, she’d already made over a hundred.

“All right, finished.” Ye Qianling dusted the flour from her hands and said to Zhao Mengge at the stove, “When the water boils, you can put the dumplings in.” She carried a tray of dumplings to the pot.

Everyone was waiting for her answer and didn’t react otherwise. Ye Qianling paused, then said helplessly, “I’ve only known Mr. Chi for a few days. There’s no such thing as love at first sight. He was just concerned because I was badly injured. Jian, you really are overthinking it.” She acted as if it was no big deal and, as the water boiled, quickly dropped the dumplings in.

Si Yan hadn’t expected that answer. His first reaction wasn’t indifference, but a strange sense of frustration. Ye Qianling’s response was entirely different from what he’d imagined.

He’d thought she would be flustered, perhaps look at him shyly. But in the end, all he got was polite gratitude—nothing more, nothing less.