Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Immortal Master Needs to Eat

Zilian’s brows knitted slightly, and a trace of difficulty appeared on his face. “You like fish and can’t bear to eat them. That, indeed, has its benefits when it comes to cultivating immortality. However, the immortal chef here on Lingyun Mountain is especially fond of preparing fish. Over a thousand years ago, he was bitten by a carp demon from the Demon Realm. Ever since then, for more than a thousand years, he’s been inventing new ways to cook fish. In fact, aside from fish, he rarely touches any other ingredient. If I refused to eat fish, wouldn’t I just end up starving?”

Excuses—all I heard were excuses.

I didn’t believe a word of it and asked him, “Do masters like you need food to fill their bellies too?”

Aren’t immortals supposed to be above worldly desires, untouched by the mundane needs of mortals? Why did Zilian still need to eat? Could it be that those tales were just rumors, repeated until they became common belief, when the truth was quite different all along?

Zilian gave me a helpless look, as if I was beyond saving, and explained, “To mortals, the life of an immortal seems ideal—we have endless years and the gift of eternal youth. Yet, from where I stand, what is the use of endless years? Immortals, stripped of joy, anger, desire, greed, and hatred, are not as content and carefree as ordinary people.”

“Oh!”

I nodded in understanding and said, “So you’re just eating to pass the time. Well then, from now on, I’ll take care of your meals, and we won’t eat fish anymore, all right?”

I fixed my eyes on him and, seeing his brows draw together, he replied, “If we don’t eat fish, then what are we supposed to eat?”

“Um…”

I truly hadn’t thought that far ahead.

Zilian’s frown deepened, and he looked at me with a hint of grievance, as if I’d taken away his favorite treasure and refused to give it back. My eyes darted around, unable to meet his gaze—I didn’t care what we ate, as long as it wasn’t fish.

“Well, to be honest, all food tastes much the same to me. There’s not much difference, as long as it isn’t too awful. But, Xiaoyu, you haven’t even decided what you’ll make for me. I suppose I’d be better off eating the fish dishes prepared by the immortal chef. I can’t say I have high hopes for your cooking.”

“Master, you must have faith in me!”

I thumped my chest, full of confidence.

“Then tell me, what do you plan to serve me?”

“Uh…”

My eyes roamed around the room, searching for anything edible. Glancing this way and that, all I saw were several pots of lotus flowers blooming quietly in the corner. The breeze stirred their leaves and petals, making them seem to beckon me over, as if asking to be eaten.

There was no end to these lotus planters in the Ziwei Palace. If I used what was at hand, what harm could it do?

Reaching out, I pointed excitedly at the pots of purple lotuses behind him. “Those! From now on, let’s have those.”

As his gaze followed my finger, I continued, “Master, you have so many lotuses here—it would be a waste not to eat them. From now on, I’ll make you lotus seed soup, lotus root soup, and lotus flower pudding every day. Lotus seeds can be simmered into a soup, lotus leaves brewed into tea, lotus root eaten raw or cooked in a stew. Raw lotus root is crisp, sweet, and tender—absolutely delicious! Cooked, it’s even better. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water.”

I chattered on, lost in my own enthusiasm, only to see Zilian’s expression grow darker and darker.

“Master, what’s wrong?” As a devoted disciple, I asked with concern.

“Yuge.”

“Um?” I looked up at him, all innocence.

His voice went cold in an instant. “Clean the Azure Luan Hall thoroughly. Otherwise, you’ll go without supper tonight.”

With that, he tossed down his chopsticks and strode out of the Biyun Pavilion.