“Zhi Wei, even if some things I know in my heart are wishful thinking or perhaps you would laugh it’s a delusion, but I still want to tell you, what I really hope for is to marry you, with a formal wedding night, to be devoted only to you for life. I have ten thousand ways to possess you, but I would rather use the one thousand and one way to have your heart.”
Feng Zhi Wei’s body shook slightly, her head was lowered, and said nothing, nor did she ask what that ten thousand and one way was.
Ning Yi didn’t expect an answer from her, after saying what he did, he then immediately turned to check the heat under the steamer.
The kitchen fell back into silence. Covering her face with a hand, Feng Zhi Wei was deep in thought as she half-turned her face toward the oil lamp. Her expression was very calm but in her eyes, something was surging relentlessly, like the waves constantly crashing against the shores, rising and falling, perpetually and stubbornly struggling between going forward or backward.
Ning Yi had his back to her, in the mist of vapors, he couldn’t see her expression, and neither had he planned on seeing it. He already knew that no woman in this world was as clouded in misty fog as Feng Zhi Wei.
Then let her live shrouded in the mystery like fog because once she had to open herself up completely, she would feel uneasy and frightened.
This is his way of fulfilling her wish.
And it’s his wish to accompany her, as a man and woman, with eyes closed, walking forward in this world filled with fog, completely relying on their hearts to guide them. He trusts that if he keeps stretching forth his hand, one day, he will be able to touch her fingertips.
The steaming water gurgled. He lifted the pot, took a look, and said with a smile, “It’s done.”
He immediately turned his head and told her as she was about to stand up, “Don’t move. My Lord Wei. Let me serve you to the end today.” (Again, the me Ning Yi used here is one a servant would use.)
Feng Zhi Wei couldn’t help but laugh, shook her head, took the initiative to set out two pairs of bowls and chopsticks, and said with a grin, “Yes, this lowly subordinate will risk my life to accompany Your Highness today.” (“risk my life to accompany…” this is just a Chinese saying, often used when we are trying to convey we are gamed for whatever someone had in mind.)
“Here it is!” Ning Yi rolled up his sleeves, grabbed the steamer from the steaming pot, brought it and put it down on the table quickly, and blew on his fingers.
“Don’t you know to use a rag before you grab it?” Feng Zhi Wei had planned on taking the steamer from him but he had already brought it over in a rush. Looking at his burned red fingers, she couldn’t help but frown and complain softly before adding, “Put some ointment on it or soak it in water.”
“I think it will get better faster if you blow on it.” Ning Yi stretched out his finger in front of her, raised an eyebrow, and looked at her with a smile.
This guy is always trying to take advantage whenever he can… part of Feng Zhi Wei didn’t want him to get his way but seeing that the finger was indeed burned red and shiny, her heart softened, and could only lean over to blow on it gently.
She had just leaned over when Ning Yi suddenly raised his finger and rubbed it across her lips. Feng Zhi Wei felt a burning sensation across her lips. She stepped back in surprise, her face already slightly red.
Ning Yi smiled with great satisfaction, “Hmm…lip therapy, it really doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Feng Zhi Wei ignored him. The best way to deal with teasing was to pretend that teasing did not exist. She dragged the steamer over, took out the wisteria cakes, and put three pieces on each of their plates.
Looking at the cake that was soft and slightly red, filled with the fragrance of wisteria. It actually looked very similar to the wisteria cake she used to have all those years ago. It was impressive that Ning Yi, a royal nobleman who had never been in the kitchen, actually achieved such a result on his first try. Feng Zhi Wei is not confident she would have done any better in his place.
Feng Zhi Wei stared at that piece of cake for a long time with a very complicated expression in her eyes, without moving her chopsticks. A pair of chopsticks reached over, and gently tore the cake open for her. The steaming aroma of wisteria rushed out, the steaming fragrance hitting her immediately. In the hot mist, it seemed as if she was transported back to the past.
“It’s too beautiful, so you are too stunned?” Ning Yi’s deep laughter echoed beside her ear, “But it’s a pity that no matter how much you stare at it, you won’t be able to eat it with your eyes.”
“This is the first delicacy made personally by His Highness.” Feng Zhi Wei picked it up slowly with her chopsticks, “I think it is necessary to keep it as a treasure and put it on a high pedestal to admire.”
“What you need to treasure, is just the cook himself.” Ning Yi said in a low voice, blowing on her earlobe, “As for the cake, there is a lot of time and opportunities in the future for me to make it for you.”
The corner of Feng Zhi Wei’s lip curved up slightly, said nothing, and gently took a bite of the cake.
The cake was still fragrant and soft. Ning Yi is a good fighter and was able to knead the dough vigorously, allowing the cake to be tender and chewy. Just on those two points alone, his cake was better than her mother’s cakes. The only thing that could be criticized was the fact Ning Yi didn’t measure the salt and went a bit heavy on it, slightly impacting the fragrant taste of the wisteria cakes.
She smiled and said, “It’s delicious.”
“Is it?” Ning Yi tasted it as well, and said with an oh, “So this is wisteria cake? So this is how something tastes when I made it myself.”
(I keep referring to the dish as cakes but it probably tastes closer to bread than cakes. Think of Chinese Onion Pancakes but I imagine them to be thicker…and steamed.)
“How is it?” Feng Zhi Wei asked him with a smile.
“What do you think?” Instead of answering, Ning Yi asked.
This person’s personality is like this, used to hiding, and unwilling to just say anything clearly. Feng Zhi Wei sighed and replied softly, “The real taste is not in the mouth but in the heart. If there is no heart, then the most delicious food will taste bland. If there is heart, then even cabbage buns will taste sweet and linger in one’s memory.”
Ning Yi smiled without saying anything and slowly finished eating the cake.
The two of them sat in a warm and misty room, eating in silence, eating for the taste, but also for the mood.
After a while, Feng Zhi Wei reached out a hand and used her sleeve to wipe Ning Yi’s flour-stained eyebrows and cheeks. She said with a laugh, “Look at what you have become. At first glance, someone would think you have gray eyebrows.”
“That would be my wish.” Ning Yi let her wipe his face as he leaned against the back of the chair with his eyes closed, not moving, and said leisurely, “This scene is not now, but many years later. When I, with gray eyebrows, would be making cakes for you. We would then eat together at the same table, you would wipe my sweat and tell me, old man, I am tired of eating cakes, I want to eat braised chicken with bamboo shoots tomorrow.”
All text copyright @ www.Ninja-Reflection.com
Pieces of dough & filling, and steamed – maybe some kind of dumplings?
However, Wisteria as a filling makes me wonder bc in real life that plant is poisonous…
Someone mentioned in an earlier comment that Ning Yi learned to cook for her. I’ve been waiting for the cooking story to show up ever since 🙂
This prince has a healthy self-confidence, it has to be said. Not in the sense of arrogance, rather the opposite. His unwavering belief that he can get the woman of his dreams without tricking her is also part of it.
And he won her affection back, for now… their closeness is so sweet 🙂
Thank you for another delightful read!
How romantic–so many of us yearn to be loved like this. I shed a few tears. Thank you for these years of translations. What an amazing endeavor and accomplishment!
@Heather Yes, and it turns out Ning Yi has quite a few such traits.
That made me guess very soon that the author is female, or if it was a team (sometimes said) the female influence was crucial.
Seems she invented a man out of her secret dreams, even more than Margaret Mitchell ever did.
Lovely and I love your asides explaining different parts of the translation. I also think I am yearning for story beats, and then quiet chapters like this get me. Thank you!
Oh! I.write this with a heavy heart, on the edge of crying ..
the imagery is so potent : from agitated sea waves, to misty heat ,to warmth oozing from a lonely heart , gathered in that warming kitchen.. burning cold shadows vs Warmth..
I just wanted to end here , so apprehensive of their separation.