Chapter 23: The Meaning of Food

On the way home, the clamor of the day gradually faded behind them.

Qiu Mian and Qiu Kui walked along the familiar streets, their shadows occasionally overlapping.

The gentle, smiling face of “Misaki” from the drama club, along with the hidden barbs woven into her words, clung to Qiu Mian’s heart like creeping vines, refusing to let go.

Misaki… what exactly does she know? What is her relationship with the “original host” and with Qiu Kui?

And that fox mask… Shimizu Yuzu doesn’t look like the owner at all. Is she really just keeping it for someone?

I didn’t find many clues, but trouble keeps piling up one after another…

She let out a soft sigh and unconsciously kicked a small pebble by her foot. The pebble rolled away with a quiet gurgle and bumped into the tip of Qiu Kui’s shoe.

Qiu Kui’s steps paused. She glanced down at the pebble, then lifted her gaze to Qiu Mian.

Her clear eyes reflected Qiu Mian’s somewhat preoccupied side profile.

“Jie-jie…” she spoke softly, her voice thin and gentle, carrying a trace of hesitation. “Are you… unhappy?”

Qiu Mian startled and turned to look at her.

Qiu Kui was watching her with quiet seriousness.

“No.” Qiu Mian denied it on instinct, shifting her eyes away and keeping her tone as neutral as possible. “Just thinking about club matters.”

It wasn’t a complete lie.

“Oh…” Qiu Kui replied softly and didn’t press further.

The two continued walking in silence for another short stretch.

As they passed a convenience store, bright lights and the warm aroma of food drifted out into the street.

Qiu Mian’s stomach gave an unwilling little gurgle.

The sound was faint, yet on the quiet evening road it rang out with embarrassing clarity.

Qiu Mian’s body stiffened instantly, and her cheeks flushed hot.

So embarrassing!

Qiu Kui had clearly heard it too.

Her steps halted. She turned her head and looked at Qiu Mian.

Qiu Mian could feel the other girl’s gaze settle on her already reddening earlobes.

Then, the corner of Qiu Kui’s mouth curved upward in the tiniest smile before it quickly smoothed away again.

But Qiu Mian still caught it.

She’s… smiling?!

Shame and annoyance surged through her. Qiu Mian shot Qiu Kui a glare, trying to hide her embarrassment behind a fierce scowl. “What are you looking at! Walk faster!”

Her tone carried its usual impatience, but the way her eyes darted made it completely unconvincing—like a cat puffing itself up to look bigger.

Qiu Kui immediately lowered her head and murmured, “Sorry, Jie-jie.”

Yet instead of speeding up, she slowed by half a step, quietly tilting her head so she could watch Qiu Mian’s flushed profile and slightly puffed cheeks from the corner of her eye.

Jie-jie… her stomach growled…

It seems… kind of cute…

Neither of them spoke again for the rest of the walk, but the atmosphere no longer felt quite so cold.

The heat on Qiu Mian’s face slowly faded, replaced by a strangely lighter feeling in her chest.

At least Qiu Kui looked… a little less tense.

When they reached home, the warm lights and familiar layout brought a quiet sense of comfort.

Qiu Kui set down her schoolbag and headed straight for the kitchen to start dinner, as always.

Qiu Mian was about to retreat to her room to keep untangling the mess of thoughts in her head.

But just as she turned, Qiu Kui’s soft voice drifted from the kitchen doorway—carrying a faint note of nervousness and… anticipation?

“Jie-jie…”

Qiu Mian stopped and looked back.

Qiu Kui stood at the entrance, still in her uniform, apron not yet tied. Her hands were hidden behind her back, fingers tapping lightly against the counter. Her cheeks were faintly pink, and her eyes flickered as she gazed at Qiu Mian. Her voice was smaller than usual yet perfectly clear.

“Today… could you… help me prep the ingredients?”

Qiu Mian froze.

Prep the ingredients? Qiu Kui… is asking me to help?

This had never happened in the past few days.

Normally Qiu Kui handled every part of dinner alone and grew nervous if Qiu Mian even came near the kitchen. But today…

Watching the girl stand there, clearly mortified yet mustering the courage to ask anyway, Qiu Mian gave a small nod.

“Mm.”

At her response, Qiu Kui’s eyes brightened noticeably.

She turned quickly and stepped into the kitchen, pulling out two clean aprons. She handed the light-blue one printed with little rabbits to Qiu Mian and tied on the simpler off-white one herself.

Qiu Mian accepted the apron, glanced at the adorably chubby rabbits, and her mouth twitched. Still, she silently put it on.

It was a little large and hung loosely on her, but the fabric was soft.

The kitchen was small; with both of them inside, the space between them shrank instantly.

Qiu Kui had already begun taking vegetables and meat from the fridge with practiced ease. The sound of running water filled the room.

Qiu Mian stood beside her as Qiu Kui passed over a bunch of greens and a small basin.

“Jie-jie… could you wash these for me?” Qiu Kui asked quietly, pointing at the sink.

“Oh.” Qiu Mian took them and turned on the faucet.

Cool water rushed over the vibrant green leaves, carrying a fresh, clean scent.

She washed them carefully, rinsing each leaf thoroughly.

Her movements were a little clumsy, but she was completely focused.

For a while, the only sounds were the steady rush of water and the rhythmic thunk of the knife against the cutting board.

The atmosphere was quiet, yet not awkward—there was an oddly harmonious feel to it.

After a few moments, Qiu Kui’s voice rose again, still soft, but no longer just a request. It felt more like… casual conversation.

“Jie-jie… you seem a little different lately.”

Qiu Mian’s hands paused mid-wash.

Qiu Kui kept her eyes on the carrot she was slicing, the blade meeting the board in even, gentle taps. Her side profile looked especially soft under the kitchen lights.

“There are… a lot more people around you now.”

Qiu Kui continued, her tone neutral, simply stating a fact. “Xia Qingkong… Shimizu from the drama club… and… that girl today…”

She hesitated, clearly reluctant to say Misaki’s name.

“It feels like… Jie-jie isn’t always alone anymore, the way you used to be.”

Qiu Mian kept rinsing the leaves in silence, but her mind churned.

Different? Because of my transmigration? Or because I don’t want to be that isolated, terrible “villain” anymore? Because I want to protect her and uncover the truth, so I have no choice but to interact with more people?

Before she could decide how to answer, Qiu Kui’s knife stopped moving.

She lowered her head slightly. Her light-linen bangs fell forward, shadowing her eyes and hiding her expression.

The kitchen light seemed to dim with the motion.

But she soon lifted her head again, the usual timid little smile back in place. She changed the subject quickly, her voice carrying a note of curiosity as if the earlier remark had been nothing more than idle talk.

“Jie-jie… is there any dish you like a lot?”

Qiu Mian was caught off guard by the sudden shift and answered without thinking. “…Anything’s fine.”

It was the truth—she wasn’t picky, and everything Qiu Kui made tasted good.

Qiu Kui seemed dissatisfied with the answer. Or perhaps that wasn’t really what she wanted to ask.

She tilted her head, looking at Qiu Mian with earnest focus.

“Then… if there was one dish you really, really loved, would you keep eating it? Every day, every meal, the exact same thing?”

“I’d get tired of it,” Qiu Mian replied a little faster this time.

No matter how delicious something was, eating it every single day would eventually become boring.

“You’d get tired of it…” Qiu Kui repeated under her breath. The knife in her hand idly traced a light line across the carrot without cutting.

Her gaze drifted, as though she were pondering something profound.

Several seconds passed before she spoke again, even softer, probing carefully.

“Then… if one day you realized you were tired of that favorite dish… what would you do? Would you still… remember how good it used to taste?”

The question sounded strange—nothing like ordinary talk about cooking.

Qiu Mian stopped washing the vegetables and turned to face Qiu Kui.

Qiu Kui was looking straight at her.

Under the warm light, Qiu Mian’s reflection was clear in the other girl’s eyes, along with some indescribable emotion.

That look made Qiu Mian’s heart tighten for no reason she could name.

She set the vegetables down, turned fully toward Qiu Kui, and water droplets fell from her fingertips.

The kitchen was very quiet; only the faint drip from the not-quite-closed faucet could be heard.

Qiu Mian thought for a moment, then answered seriously, one word at a time.

“I probably would. No matter how much you like a dish, eating it too often will make you tired of it.”

She saw Qiu Kui’s eyelashes tremble lightly.

“But…”

Qiu Mian paused, her gaze resting on Qiu Kui’s face. Her tone softened with certainty.

“The taste of a dish you truly like… maybe isn’t something you remember only with your tongue.”

“Maybe it’s the surprise of the first time you tried it, the scent that gradually becomes familiar, or a certain moment you can never return to… Those kinds of flavors get remembered somewhere else.”

She pointed awkwardly at her own chest.

“If it’s that kind of ‘like,’ then… you probably wouldn’t get tired of it so easily.”

“Because at that point, it’s no longer just a dish.”

Finished speaking, Qiu Mian felt a little embarrassed and quickly looked away. She turned the faucet back on and pretended to continue washing vegetables.

The rushing water covered the slight quickening of her heartbeat.

What am I even saying… that sounded so cheesy…

But… I hope she understands.

Qiu Kui stood motionless, still gripping the knife.

She stared blankly at Qiu Mian’s faintly flushed side profile and the slightly awkward line of her back.

So… that’s what Jie-jie thinks.

Qiu Kui blinked.

She lowered her head, picked up the knife again, and resumed slicing.

The thunk of the blade sounded lighter and quicker than before.

Only when Qiu Mian was nearly finished washing the last leaf did Qiu Kui finally speak again, her voice almost inaudible, soft as a whisper.

“…Mm.”

“Maybe, Jie-jie… you really do like this dish a lot.”

Qiu Mian’s hands paused for the briefest moment while washing.

Then, without her even realizing it, a faint smile crept onto the corner of her mouth.

Outside the window, night had fully settled. Inside the kitchen, the lights were warm, the water clear and bright, and the aroma of cooking food slowly filled the air.

Everything felt… just right.