Chapter 41: Sister’s Sweet Soup (Thanks to the Lord of the Mitian Building)
After parting ways with Wen Zhixia, Chen Shian returned to his own apartment complex not far away.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at it. It was 10:03 p.m.—the two had dawdled along the streets for over ten minutes. Battery showed 42%; mostly because the phone was so old, even standby drained most of its power. In truth, he barely checked his phone throughout the day.
But Chen Shian wasn’t dependent on his phone, so he never felt anxious about the battery. He’d once tried using his spiritual power to charge a phone—his master’s ancient Motorola, which didn’t even have internet access. The attempt not only failed, but ended up frying the device entirely...
After that lesson, Chen Shian dared not try such experiments on his own phone. Though he was a cultivator, he had a natural curiosity. He’d touched bare 220-volt wires with his own hands, accidentally burned down the old study in the temple during his first attempt at fire magic, and, dissatisfied with the toll bell’s volume, secretly stuffed a thunderous talisman inside. The result: when his master struck the bell that day, the blast shattered every window in the temple.
Sometimes, Chen Shian wondered if his antics were so earth-shaking that he found his peers’ mischief dull by comparison.
Everyone has a childhood, and Chen Shian, raised in the mountains, was no exception. Everyone grows up, too. Even he couldn’t pinpoint the moment he stopped feeling like a child.
To have survived to eighteen was no easy feat; besides his stubborn fate, his master’s tolerance was indispensable.
“To give life without possessing it, to act without expecting, to nurture without controlling”—these words are from the Tao Te Ching. His master had truly embodied them in raising him these eighteen years.
Chen Shian understood this was true inheritance, not the flimsy certificate that merely proved their master-disciple relationship.
Looking back, when he’d exploded his master’s phone with spiritual power as a child, he wasn’t scolded, nor did he feel he’d done wrong. Now, he realized it was a mistake—arrogance and ignorance. Using spiritual power to charge a phone without understanding electricity or batteries? It’s a wonder the phone didn’t explode sooner...
He really should study physics. The day he successfully charged a phone with spiritual power would mark the perfect conclusion to his foolish childhood.
The WeChat icon showed three unread messages.
He knew what that meant. After living so long in the mountains, his habits lagged behind the times. Sending messages or making calls was akin to the “Thousand-Mile Voice Transmission” in Taoist arts—in their cultivation, he and his master could transmit sound over about two miles, but modern technology could send messages across oceans, even into space.
He didn’t understand how it worked, but found it fascinating. Someday he’d study it properly; perhaps it might inspire improvements to his own voice transmission technique.
Of course, wireless messaging had its limits—nine out of ten places in the mountains had no signal. When his master and the cat wandered off, Chen Shian would use his supernatural voice to call them home for meals.
He opened WeChat.
He only had two friends: Li Wanyin and Wen Zhixia.
Two messages were from Li Wanyin, one from Wen Zhixia.
8:36 p.m.—Little Echo: [Photo]
8:36 p.m.—Little Echo: [What time does evening class end? I’ve made mung bean sweet soup, letting it cool in the kitchen pot. Wait for you to get home so we can eat together. (side-eye dog emoji)]
Chen Shian smiled. Messaging like this was quite fun, so he replied first:
10:04 p.m.—Chen Shian: [Almost home]
10:04 p.m.—Chen Shian: [Panda smirk emoji]
He’d stolen that emoji from her yesterday. It was so versatile—useful in almost any situation.
Next, he checked Wen Zhixia’s message.
10:01 p.m.—Zhizhi: [Home!]
10:01 p.m.—Zhizhi: [Shower and sleep~! Don’t oversleep tomorrow! (green dinosaur sleeping emoji)]
10:04 p.m.—Chen Shian: [I’m home too]
10:04 p.m.—Chen Shian: [Green dinosaur sleeping emoji]
Wen Zhixia didn’t reply—she was probably showering. Li Wanyin, on the other hand, replied.
Little Echo: [Did you bring your keys?]
Chen Shian: [I brought them]
By the time he replied, he’d already climbed to the ninth floor and reached his door.
The hallway lights flickered on as he approached, and by their glow, he slipped his key into the lock and opened the door.
Inside, the lights were on and the television was playing.
But Chen Shian didn’t see Li Wanyin. Instead, Fat Mo, the cat, lounged lazily on the couch watching TV.
“Meow?”
Hearing the door, the black cat turned around, wary of Chen Shian’s mischievous gaze. Fat Mo looked a bit guilty.
What’s the problem? There are no mice at home and it’s boring—can’t a cat watch TV?
“Fat Mo, did you sneak out this afternoon?”
The black cat turned back to the TV, feigning deafness.
It wasn’t as if it didn’t know the way home. What’s wrong with a stroll? Besides, sometimes kind strangers offered food—perfectly normal! Who says it’s mooching? Nonsense!
Chen Shian thought it had gone out because its cat food was empty, but upon checking the bowl, he saw it was still half full.
“You haven’t eaten at all—weren’t you eating just fine this morning...”
“Meow.”
As Chen Shian held the cat food bowl, Li Wanyin emerged from her room.
She’d already showered, wearing homey shorts and a T-shirt, slippers on her feet, her legs first stepping out from the doorway.
Li Wanyin had naturally fair skin, usually hidden under long pants. Her legs, protected and pale, now glowed with a soft moisture after her bath, a gentle blush wrapped in a sheen of light.
“Shian, you’re back?”
“Mm. When did you get off work, Wanyin?”
“I came back a little after six. Bought some mung beans and palm sugar, made sweet soup. It’s cooling now—perfect for a late-night snack.”
Compared to yesterday’s first meeting, Li Wanyin was much more familiar with her new housemate. As a graduate working in society, she was more like an older sister, while he was just a high schooler. There was none of the awkwardness or restraint typical between young men and women.
Yesterday, Chen Shian treated her to dinner and watermelon; Li Wanyin was the kind of girl who remembered kindness.
Now, with her work and his classes, they only met at home in the evenings, so she’d thought to make sweet soup for them to share.
“I saw the photo you sent—thanks, Wanyin.”
“Hehe, you’re welcome. When the weekend comes, I’ll cook a meal to celebrate our co-renting.”
As she spoke, she entered the kitchen, picked up a ladle and a bowl, tasted the sweetness, then filled two bowls of mung bean sweet soup.
“Wanyin, I can serve myself.”
“No worries, try it and see if it’s too sweet.”
Chen Shian took the bowl from her, standing as he tasted it.
He’d just eaten grilled sausages with Wen Zhixia, so his mouth was dry. One sip of the sweet soup was pure refreshment—satisfaction coursed through him.
She’d cooked it tonight, using a pressure cooker to make the mung beans soft and sandy, carefully skimming the floating skins. Instead of white sugar, she used palm sugar—reddish brown cane sugar blocks, richer and more fragrant than white sugar, reputed to nourish blood and energy.
Sweet soup may seem simple, but without experience, one couldn’t achieve such clean, sandy, non-sticky results.
Chen Shian drank a couple sips, then sat at the dining table, nodding repeatedly in praise:
“Delicious—your cooking really is great, Wanyin.”
“Oh, it’s just sweet soup.”
Though she downplayed it, Li Wanyin was pleased to hear his praise.
Words alone mean little; she saw Chen Shian gulping down the soup, which is the greatest affirmation for any cook.
“Be careful, it’s hot... If only it were chilled, but it’s too hot for the fridge.”
“It’s fine—this is perfect. Mung beans are naturally cooling, so chilling them would be too cold. Anyone with a weak stomach could get acid reflux. When I made it in the mountains, I always drank it warm.”
“You know so much!”
Li Wanyin was surprised. She sipped delicately, sitting at the table with a spoon.
“When I was little, my mom used to add a wild vegetable to the sweet soup... what was it called...”
“Bitterweed?”
“Yes! That’s it! It made the flavor special, really tasty. I can’t believe you know it!”
Li Wanyin was even more amazed—most adults hadn’t even heard of bitterweed, let alone a teenager like Chen Shian.
“I always add it when I make sweet soup. There’s lots growing by the temple steps—it clears liver heat, cools the blood, relieves summer heat, and adds a unique grassy fragrance.”
“Yes, yes—I haven’t seen bitterweed in ages. There’s none in the city, and I probably wouldn’t recognize it if I did.”
“Next time I find some, I’ll bring it home for you to make sweet soup.”
“That’ll be a real taste of childhood.”
Her stories were all from rural childhood, but she was delighted that Chen Shian could follow along so easily. Such free-flowing conversation was rare.
As they ate, the black cat came over carrying its bowl, clearly wanting some too.
Li Wanyin remembered something: “When I came home, I saw Mo’s cat food was empty, so I refilled it.”
Chen Shian, surprised: “So that’s why there’s still food in the bowl—it was you.”
“Yeah, it looked like it was starving, sprawled on the sofa. Most cats eat one kibble at a time, but Mo gulps them down.”
Talkative classmates, mischievous cats—only Wanyin and Chen Shian seemed reliable.
“Shian, can cats eat mung bean sweet soup?”
“Meow.”
“I’m not sure about cats, but I know pigs definitely can.”
“Meow?”
Chen Shian poured the last third of his sweet soup over the cat food for Fat Mo.
“Wanyin, is there more soup in the pot?”
“Yes, I made plenty.”
“I’ll get another bowl.”
“Mm-hmm!”
.
.
(Thanks to Lord Mitian for the alliance leader support! Generous boss! May your business flourish! May your new book soar to the skies!)
(5,000-word chapter tonight! Thank you for your tips and monthly ticket votes~!)