#minglie

He had minimal knowledge of culinary skills, aside from what he needed to know when out travelling or night-hunting and making your own meal was the only guarantee of food. He knew how to skin and roast a hare, skewer a fish over a stick on a log fire, what basic berries were edible or poisonous, but he had never had the experience of making a complete home meal from scratch.

He watched as she walked with confidence around the kitchen - one he knew she had been sneaking into for a few weeks now – and he felt a surge of affection so strongly he nearly broke the knife in his hand with the sudden clench of his fist. Ah, he thought suddenly, she must feel so comfortable here. He was a fool, he berated himself, for not realising sooner. He wondered how difficult it would be to commission her own private kitchen, instead of her waiting until the cover of night and until all the cooks had left to come to the one place in Qinghe where she clearly felt most secure.

“I was never skilled in cultivation, and I know my mother was always disappointed by that,” She spoke into the still night air quietly, her eyes locked on the soup pot as she checked if the water was boiling correctly. He hummed to let her know he was listening as he kept at his task.

“As a first-born daughter to a powerful Sect leader, I was a disappointment from the beginning. Not that my parents loved me any less,” she spoke in a measured tone, collecting the lotus roots he had finished peeling. “I know my father loved me. My mother loved me too, in her own way; I just wasn’t what she wanted. I was born too small, too delicate, not suited for the exertions that came with a true cultivators life. I smiled too easily, she said, and my voice was too soft. I never spoke back, I always held my tongue, and I was underwhelming in every skill she attempted to teach me.”

She grabbed a package of herbs Nie Mingjue couldn’t name from a woven basket he hadn’t noticed earlier, and placed a small pile in front of herself and handing him a knob of ginger. “Cut it into small pieces, please,” she instructed softly, attending to her own pile of herbs.

“When it came to being a woman in a cultivators world, my mother was the exception. I think she hoped I would be too, and she didn’t know how to handle me when I couldn’t do what she did,” she smiled wanly, taking his small pile of ginger pieces and placing them in the small bowl that was blanching the pork ribs.

“I was everything she wasn’t, and I was fine with that. I was a slow learner, she always said, and it was true. Cultivating my golden core was more difficult for me compared to my brothers, and I was never clever enough with academic pursuits.”

“Everyone has their strengths,” he hedged carefully, feeling oddly vulnerable without a task to keep his hands busy. What she was speaking of was hitting very close to his heart, and his concerns with his little brother.

“That’s true,” she smiled at him with crinkled eyes, sliding him half the peeled lotus roots with a gentle, “slice them about a thumbnail thick, please.” He nodded, observing her first few slices and trying to mirror them, the same way he learned his basic sword formations all those years ago.

“I know I’m not strong, or beautiful, or skilled, but I love my brothers. They taught me nearly everything I know. They taught me patience, they taught me diplomacy, they taught me how to handle a multitude of situations -” here, she laughed lightly, shaking her head slightly at some imagined shenanigans, he assumed, “- and they helped teach me my own value. Not everyone has to be great with a sword to have worth, or have a golden core to be important. Sometimes acknowledgement, love and care, understanding, and a warm meal can be priceless.”

She grasped a pair of nearby chopsticks and fished the pork ribs and pieces of ginger out of their small pot, adding each one into the larger boiling soup pot. She then added the herbs and her sliced lotus roots in next, indicating for him to do the same. He nodded, collecting all his sliced lotus roots in a single handful - compared to the three handfuls it took her - and placed them in the pot too, a strange feeling welling in his chest as she used a ladle to mix all the ingredients together.

“I know I’m not what you envisioned in a wife, and I know others perceive me as weak,” she turned to look at him now, her gaze never wavering from his eyes as she took one of his hands in her two tiny ones, and all he could think was I have never felt hands this soft in my entire life, “but I truly hope I am able to offer something to you in this marriage. Before, I had been promised to another who never chose me and I lived my life knowing it was all my parents ever thought I was fit for. I had watched their own volatile marriage, and resigned myself to my own with a man who didn’t want me. Now we have a choice, and I want it to be the right one for both of us,” her eyes had begun glistening with tears at this point and Nie Mingjue felt his own beginning to water in response. And people call me a brute, he thought with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Lady Jiang, anyone who perceives you as weak or lacking are fools. I saw how fiercely you defended Wei Wuxian at Phoenix Mountain and how politely you tore strips off that Jin boy. You are well aware of my own reputation, I’m sure,” he snorted, knowing exactly what image others had tried to paint of him in her mind, “and to have come here regardless, and bear your heart and intentions to me, I would have to have a head full of rocks to see you as anything but my equal.”

He paused, taking a moment to really think about what he was going to say as he knew this woman would take whatever he said to heart, and it felt only right to return what she had revealed to him tonight. He placed his free hand on the two that was cupping his other, feeling his heart jump at the smile she gave him.

“I can be ill-tempered, uncompromising, and socially blunt to the point my brother has said a blow to the head would be more subtle,” he chuckled here, feeling his chest warm as Jiang Yanli huffed a laugh with him. “You are everything I am not, Lady Jiang, and that is a good thing. You are brave, and beautiful, and something I had never expected I would find in my life. Let me court you, Jiang Yanli. Let us make this work.”

Nie Mingjue was startled as new tears suddenly fell from her eyes, following the near exact same track as the last set from a few moments ago.

“I would like nothing more,” she said sincerely, her smile blinding him as he reached out to wipe them away with his thumb.

Ah, maybe time to lighten the air.

“Now, how long until our hard work bears fruit?” He asked, looking over at the soup they had made together.

“Oh, did I forget to mention that part? We will need to wait until at least morning to enjoy it,” she laughed cheekily as she pulled away from him, turning around to take hold of a small woven basket he hadn’t noticed before. “I suspected you might like something a little more immediate though, so I made something for you a little earlier.” She was blushing as she handed him the box, oddly quiet as he opened the lid.

“Your brother mentioned you liked sweet things, so I hope this suits your tastes,” she bowed slightly towards him as he looked at the delicate osmanthus cakes hidden within, marveling at the fine flower detailing on the top that he could swear looked finer than any detailing he had seen on any cake before.

“Lady Jiang, if I hadn’t asked to court you just now, I can assure you that this would have certainly done the trick.” A laugh startled out of him as he soaked in the situation. A beautiful woman, wooing him with cakes. Truly, had the world gone mad? He smiled wider as she laughed with him, her eyes filled with more joy than he had ever seen in her before.