Chapter 58
Mu Qing dangled a tantalizing hint but stopped short of fully explaining, deliberately leaving things ambiguous—because she truly didn’t know whether she should reveal it.
After agonizing over it for a while, she decided to let things unfold naturally.
Of course, that didn’t mean she was removing herself entirely. After all, she was now bound to her husband; even if she wanted to “keep her hands clean,” that simply wasn’t an option.
So it would be better to remain as a hidden “cheat code”—her knowledge of the plot should stay her own little secret. No need to flaunt it or let everyone know.
That would just be asking for trouble.
After all, things like this were easily dismissed as “superstition.” At worst, she’d be mocked; at best, she’d be feared. But if someone actually took it seriously and something bad happened because of it, that would be hard to stomach.
Considering how cursed this tragic world seemed, Mu Qing felt such a thing was entirely possible.
And let’s not forget—Liu Feng was still lurking out there in some dark corner… Mu Qing suddenly remembered the way he had looked at her that morning. Honestly, it had been a bit creepy.
Even without Liu Feng, there were still all these unknown enemies. This little fictional world of theirs seemed to be far more elaborate and complex than the original plot she knew.
She had no idea why, but the stakes for survival definitely seemed higher.
Mu Qing sighed to herself and said nothing more, only silently resolving to keep tabs on this matter herself.
Meanwhile, her husband and Miss Yanran exchanged glances that suggested they understood her hesitation—though the confusion and doubt in their eyes were plain to see.
Still, both of them were masters of reading people and never the type to push others into corners—at least, not if they considered that person “one of their own.”
Like Mu Qing, or each other, with their sibling-like bond.
As for others—Liu Feng, for instance—they couldn’t care less what he thought.
This realization gave Mu Qing a sense of ease. Dealing with people who had genuine character was always so much easier. It helped her finally shake off the frustrations from earlier in the day. In fact, she was even starting to feel the urge to treat herself to a good meal.
Of course, this wasn’t the kind of situation where she could dine alone. She’d have to share.
Unlike your typical pampered young lady, Mu Qing was actually quite skilled in the kitchen, and her cooking wasn’t half bad.
After all, the Mu family’s business empire included a hefty portion of the food and restaurant trade—because in any world, any era, wherever there were people, there would be foodies.
And wherever there were foodies, there needed to be restaurants.
Mu Qing just so happened to be a dedicated foodie. In this life, her natural talents had only gotten better—she had an unusually sharp sense of smell and taste. With gifts like those, not diving into the culinary arts would be an absolute waste.
Besides, food had always been close to her heart.
So when she transmigrated and spent over a decade growing up as the eldest daughter of the Mu family, she spent a good chunk of her time tinkering in the kitchen.
Naturally, she had plenty of beginner disasters. Even a master had to start as a novice. In her past life, she had been a dedicated food consumer, not a food creator.
But in this world, without the distractions of her previous life—and perhaps with a deeper sense of purpose—she had the time and incentive to learn. Besides, she was often bored out of her mind. Cooking gave her something to do.
This morning, when she left White Crane Academy, she hadn’t eaten properly at all.
True, the academy had a cafeteria. But as everyone knew, cafeteria food existed purely to keep you alive—quality was not guaranteed. Mu Qing had suffered plenty from that.
She had been relying on takeout from Xinghua Pavilion to survive—because the owner’s son wanted to attend White Crane Academy and was still in his evaluation period, he had to stay on his best behavior.
Thus, the owner had generously offered a year’s worth of free, specially made snacks. Honestly, it was too tempting to refuse.
Over time, Mu Qing had grown quite spoiled. She’d forgotten what regular breakfasts even tasted like.
Usually, this wasn’t a problem. Qin Qin always saved her some snacks in the morning. After more than a month of this, Mu Qing had grown quite used to it.
But today, she’d left early due to business and missed the delivery. She ended up eating in the academy cafeteria for once and immediately tasted the bitterness of the commoner’s life.
As the saying goes, “It’s easy to go from frugal to extravagant, but hard to go back again.” Once you’ve gotten used to the fine snacks from Xinghua Pavilion, ordinary food just becomes unpalatable.
Originally, she had planned to stop by her husband and Miss Yanran’s inn for lunch—either ordering from the inn’s menu or having takeout delivered. Both were solid options.
That was the plan.
But after everything that had happened—brushing against death and all—she was feeling an itch to cook again. Eating Xinghua Pavilion food every day had become a bit dull anyway. Why not show off her skills for once and give them something really good?
To ease the awkwardness of not having shared everything she knew earlier—and the fact that the others had clearly noticed—Mu Qing took the initiative to offer them a homemade meal.
Despite having left early, been through a near-death experience, and chatted for a long while after returning, it still wasn’t too late in the day.
There was enough time to whip up a proper meal.
It was winter now. Tongzhou, being in the north, was bitterly cold. After being out for so long, she was half frozen. A hotpot would be just the thing.
Her husband was a local, and Miss Yanran, though originally from here, had grown up in Yangzhou and had a more southern palate—so pleasing both tastes might be tricky.
But that was the magic of hotpot. It brought all flavors together—north and south, sweet and spicy, all in one pot. Everyone could have what they liked.
Most importantly, it was fast and convenient. Once the idea was there, the meal could happen almost immediately.
Mu Qing’s suggestion was quickly accepted by both of them—after all, hotpot was a popular winter dish.
What they didn’t expect, though, was for Mu Qing to bring out something completely different.
It was indeed a pot filled with broth.
But why… was it divided in half?
Looking closely, one side of the broth was a fiery red, while the other was milky white. The contrast was striking—like yin and yang. Visually, it was stunning.
Surrounding the pot were an array of vegetables, meats, fish, and even fruits. How she had managed to prepare all this in just half an hour was a mystery.
Chu Yu and Miss Yanran exchanged glances, then sat down on either side of Mu Qing with perfect coordination and asked in unison, “Miao-niang, what’s with this pot?”
Mu Qing grinned. “This is called a mandarin duck hotpot—it’s perfect for winter. Whether you like spicy or non-spicy, you’ll both be happy. Come on, let’s eat! After all that running around today, I’m starving.”
As she spoke, she began adding ingredients to the pot—meat first, of course.
The inn’s food might not compare to Xinghua Pavilion’s, but its ingredients were fresh.
That was because the inn combined lodging and dining. With long-term guests, they had to keep a wide variety of ingredients on hand—not necessarily gourmet, but always fresh. Perfect for hotpot.
Mu Qing had only thought of it on a whim, but it turned out to be the perfect choice.
She called over the innkeeper, tossed him a small piece of silver, and the man lit up with joy. He personally led her to the kitchen and summoned the head chef to serve at her command.
Mu Qing, of course, didn’t make things difficult.
She wasn’t here to steal anyone’s job—just to indulge a sudden craving. No need for anything complicated.
She politely asked the chef to provide a suitable pot, spices, and condiments. She personally prepared the broth base using the chef’s stock, adjusted the sauces, and fine-tuned every flavor to perfection.
After half an hour of meticulous prep, the feast was ready.
With so much care put in, there was no way it wouldn’t satisfy.
She herself was quite pleased—now it was just a matter of how the other two felt.
So Mu Qing attentively helped plate their food, even pre-cooked it for them and served it into their bowls.
But soon, things took an odd turn.
Her husband and Miss Yanran exchanged a look—then switched bowls.
Mu Qing blinked, confused. Miss Yanran chuckled and explained, “Ah-di can’t eat spicy food. I, on the other hand, love it. But Miao-niang… you’ve been married to him this long and still don’t know his taste?”
That question made Mu Qing sharply aware—her husband had stopped eating and was silently watching her.
He hadn’t said a word, but she still felt like a heartless wife being silently reproached by her virtuous husband.
Good grief, this was awkward. Mu Qing touched the tip of her nose and chuckled sheepishly. “Aiya, I’ve just been so busy… never had time to cook.”
“And will you have time to cook for me from now on?” he asked, his eyes burning into hers.
Miss Yanran munched her spicy hotpot with obvious delight, clearly enjoying the drama.
Mu Qing was backed into a corner. But looking at her husband’s stoic face, now tinged with hopeful anticipation, she couldn’t bring herself to say no.
“…Fine.”
Before she could even finish the word, her husband burst into laughter—not his usual refined chuckle, but something youthful and boyish. It clashed with his usual icy beauty… and yet somehow, it only made him more charming.
Mu Qing stared, dazed, until Miss Yanran’s delighted laugh snapped her back. Flustered, she tossed a whole plate of beef into the pot.
“Ahem! Eat, eat.”
Then she realized… she’d thrown it all into the white broth!
Honestly…
As Miss Yanran’s laughter rang louder and her husband’s gaze grew more intense, Mu Qing sighed. Whatever. Let’s just eat first.
And thank goodness she made that decision.
Because barely half an hour later, as they ate and chatted, sketching out their next moves, Ying Thirteen suddenly returned.
He wasn’t alone.
He brought someone with him—Xiao Wu.
This poor boy had been fine just yesterday, even charming Qin Qin with his tenderness.
Now, after just half a day, he was a wreck—covered in injuries, unconscious.
Mu Qing and Miss Yanran couldn’t even bear to look. Even her normally unshakable husband flew into a fury and shouted:
“Who did this?!”
