The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

"Yes, sister is right—no, I should be the one saying that."

Chuqiao then took a small pinch of coarse salt from a cloth bag and threw it into the pot.

The leaves of the herbs slowly unfurled in the boiling water, like flowers awakening in the heat.

The coarse salt granules swirled in the water, gradually dissolving and blending with the aroma of herbs, releasing a faint, refreshing fragrance.

He didn't use any measuring tools from beginning to end, relying entirely on his sense of touch.

The amount of salt used, the combination of herbs, and the timing of adding them to the pot.

He did all this without pausing, confident and composed, as if he were performing a show that belonged only to him.

"This is white ginger, used to remove the fishy smell."

As he added ingredients to the pot, he chattered on and on, like an enthusiastic tour guide introducing his secret garden to a traveler.

"There is no ginger in the Ice Abyss. This white ginger grows in the crevices of rocks along the underground river. It tastes a little milder than fresh ginger, but it is just as effective at removing fishy smells."

"No, it's even better because it doesn't have the pungent taste of ginger, so it won't overpower the freshness of the fish. I've done the comparison, trust me."

"Comparison? You really are a perfectionist."

Tang Xixue raised an eyebrow.

"Of course."

Chu Qiao was perfectly justified.

"This is iced mint, it's for adding freshness."

He then took out a few grayish-green dried leaves from another small cloth bag, crushed them in his palm, and sprinkled them into the pot.

"This stuff is hard to find. It grows on the ice wall to the north, and only a small bunch grows each year. We use it sparingly; I'm usually reluctant to leave any out when I'm eating alone. You guys are lucky to have met such a generous person like me today."

"There's not much salt, so use it sparingly. Please don't complain."

He shook the cloth bag containing salt, and it rattled a few times, indicating that there wasn't much left.

He chuckled and scratched the back of his head, looking somewhat embarrassed. That rare shyness seemed especially seldom seen on his usually playful face.

"You know, it's not easy to get salt here. There's a salt mine downstream of the underground river, but it's too far away. It takes half a day to go back and forth. I'm too lazy to go, so I only carry a little bit back each time."

"I don't mind."

Tang Xixue looked at him, her voice gentle and calm.

She is a very perceptive person, able to easily sense the kindness and malice of others.

She also has great faith in her intuition.

The boy in front of me was all talk and no action, but he brought out the best of everything.

He gathered every herb by himself, wading through icy abysses; he carried back every grain of salt by himself, spending half a day on foot.

He used these treasures, which he had saved for who knows how long, to cook a pot of fish soup for three complete strangers.

This sentiment is more precious than any delicacy.

"Ah Qiao, I've taken care of things here. Take a look."

Feng Zhuo handed over the fish that had been scraped.

He washed the dragonfish thoroughly, leaving their bodies smooth, their cuts clean, and every single scale removed.

"Hey, not bad. Brother Feng, did you secretly learn to cook?"

Chu Qiao took it, glanced at it, and a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes.

"No training! It's talent! Pure talent!"

Feng Zhuo patted his chest, as if he wanted to raise his chin to the sky.

"Now watch me show you something! Don't scream! Please keep your composure."

Chu Qiao picked up the extremely thin bone knife and flicked his wrist.

The knife flashed, drawing a smooth arc in the fire, and the fish was sliced ​​into thin pieces, which were then neatly arranged on a wooden plate.

His knife skills were excellent; each slice of fish was almost the same thickness, neither too thick nor too thin, just the right thickness to cook through in three breaths in boiling water.

The fish fillets gleamed with a pale golden luster under the firelight, and the fine textures visible in the translucent flesh resembled the natural patterns on some fine jade.

The skin on that side had a faint golden hue, a color unique to arowanas.

"Your knife skills, have you practiced?"

Tangxi Xue raised an eyebrow.

She had seen sword immortals draw their swords, swordsmen draw their blades, and assassins throw their knives.

But she had never seen a young man cut a fish with such a sword-like quality.

The angle at which the blade fell, the range of the wrist's rotation—this didn't resemble kitchen knife work; it was more like a simplified martial arts technique.

"I haven't practiced it."

Chu Qiao arranged the last piece of fish meat and casually stuck the bone knife into the cutting board.

The tip of the knife penetrated half an inch into the wooden board, standing there steadily, while the blade was still trembling slightly.

He patted the fish scales off his hands, tilted his head, and thought for a moment.

"It's just that eating alone is too boring, so I keep experimenting with different ingredients, and eventually I'll get the hang of it. That's called—boredom breeds skill."

"You people outside don't understand. For us hermits, our only entertainment is cooking. After a while, we naturally make a name for ourselves."

"Boredom leads to extraordinary skills? If you were bored for a few more years, would you be able to develop swordsmanship?"

Feng Zhuo stared wide-eyed, half-joking and half-seriously.

"That's possible. I'll create my own fish-cutting sword technique. First move: Leave no scales behind; second move: Separate flesh from bone. How about that? Sounds pretty impressive, right?"

"Haha. That's really impressive."

Tang Xixue was amused, her eyes sparkling like stars when she laughed.

"Keep it down, keep it down! Sister, please restrain yourself."

Chu Qiao smiled as he spoke, picked up the wooden plate, and slid the fish slices one by one into the pot.

The movements are unhurried, and each piece of fish enters the water at a different position, avoiding the pieces in front, allowing them to stretch out in the pot without crowding each other.

The golden fish fillets rolled twice in the boiling water, their edges turning white first, and then the whole fillet turned milky white.

A rich, fresh aroma rose with the steam, filling the small wooden house.

Feng Zhuo took a deep breath.

He twitched his nose twice, and his eyes widened.

"This taste—good heavens, it's even better than the imperial chefs' food at Baiyujing! I'm not kidding! It really is!"

Don't flatter me to death.

Chu Qiao rarely spoke modestly, but the upturned corners of his mouth betrayed him.

His eyes curved into two crescent moons, gleaming with smugness.

He said that, but his expression clearly said, "Praise me a few more times, don't stop, I can handle it."

"I'm just an ordinary person. Nothing special, just plain and simple."

He stirred the pot with a wooden spoon, his movements seemingly casual, but the direction and force of his stirring were deliberate.

Slowly push the fish fillets in one direction from the bottom of the pan to prevent them from sticking to the pan or breaking them up.

Then he scooped up a little soup with a wooden spoon, revealing the milky white broth underneath, and carefully walked over to Tang Xixue with the spoon in his hand.

"Sister, you should try it first."

His voice, unusually, was devoid of laughter or teasing at this moment, filled only with earnest anticipation.

His eyes reflected her image, as if he had brought out his most treasured possession and was waiting for the only person worthy of it to appreciate it.

"You are a distinguished guest; the first bite is yours."

"Okay, I'll give it a try."

Tang Xixue took the wooden spoon, habitually lowered her head to smell it, and tested for poison.

Then he gently blew on it and took a small sip.

The soup was very hot.

The heat made my tongue tingle slightly, and then a burst of umami flavor exploded in my mouth.

The first taste is the crispness of snow, the flavor of ice mint, like a cool breeze.

Then there's the freshness of the fish. The flesh of the dragonfish is more delicate than that of ordinary fish, melting in your mouth. The sweet and fresh taste rolls on your tongue, as if the entire glacier has been condensed into this spoonful of soup.

Finally, there's the lingering sweetness of the herbs. The slight spiciness of white ginger intertwines with the sweetness of some unknown herb, leaving a thin layer of warmth deep in the throat that lingers for a long time.

The three flavors unfolded on the tip of the tongue in turn, much like this icy abyss.

Cold on the outside, warm on the inside, sweetness after bitterness.

"It tastes good."

She put down the wooden spoon.

The weight of those two words, spoken by her, was greater than any flowery language.

Chu Qiao's eyes lit up.

These two words alone are worth all the days spent walking alone on ice walls, climbing rock crevices, and collecting herbs.

"That's good."

He put the wooden spoon away and said something in a low voice.

Then he turned back to the pot, filled a bowl for himself, and squatted by the fire, sipping the bowl slowly.

"You all have hands and feet, serve yourselves. I only serve distinguished guests, not idlers."

He tossed out a remark without even looking up.

"Okay!"

Feng Zhuo couldn't hold back any longer. He rushed to the pot and filled a large bowl to the brim.

He sat down on the wooden stool with the bowl in his hand, first bringing it close to his nose to smell it, and then gulping down a big mouthful.

I felt like I'd been electrocuted; from head to toe, I was saying, "This is so delicious!"

Mu Liang also served a bowl.

The way he held the bowl still made him look like he was standing guard.

Keep your back straight and your feet shoulder-width apart.

But he drank the soup much faster than he usually eats a meal.

Although his face remained expressionless, he quickly finished the bowl of soup and silently went to get a second one.

"Brother Mu, this is your second bowl."

Chu Qiao peeked out from above the rim of the bowl, revealing half of his face, and gave a mischievous wink.

"Isn't it delicious? Tell me! Don't worry, there's no poison here. You don't need to test it on yourself by drinking two bowls to confirm."

Mu Liang, holding the second bowl, glanced at him expressionlessly.

"good."

"Not bad? If it's not bad, why don't you drink two bowls?"

Feng Zhuo, who was standing next to him, almost burst out laughing.

Mu Liang was completely stumped by him.

"Ranzhi, don't bully Aliang."

Tang Xixue smiled and defended him, but Feng Zhuo wasn't jealous at all; instead, he laughed even harder.

"Alright, alright, let him go. I'll listen to Ah Xue."