Chapter Sixty-Two: The Fortress Named Home (Part 2)
Of course, dinner had to be “Chinese cuisine.”
Given the limited facilities in the kitchen, I figured it wouldn’t be a problem to whip up a big pot of noodles with my trusty stew pot. As for the dough… well, I didn’t even know if I still remembered how to make it, but hey, let’s just give it a shot.
So, I dove into the kitchen, bustling around, instructing the maid to prepare everything I needed, and climbed onto a low stool, rolling up my sleeves like I was ready for an epic battle. As the two maids brought over flour and a bucket of water, I started experimenting with the dough at the counter. It seemed straightforward enough; I even added a pinch of salt to boost the gluten, and when I realized there wasn’t a rolling pin in sight, I just grabbed a nicely sanitized walking stick instead. While the dough rested, I diced the meat and washed some greens. I had the basic ingredients ready for a pot of savory meat sauce noodles.
The tricky part for me was cutting the noodles evenly. My kn*fe skills were questionable at best. In my muddled memories, it was usually just easier to buy pre-made noodles. However, once I started cutting, I realized I had underestimated my precision – the noodles were thin and uniform, practically like they were machine-made.
As I was making the noodles, the kitchen staff grew more and more curious. They’d never seen anyone make noodles this way. Even my mother peeked in once, thinking I was just playing around. After a few words of caution, she was mysteriously shooed back to the dining room.
Before long, the steaming hot noodles emerged from the pot. I asked the maid to fetch some bowls. I served up two large bowls and topped them with the freshly made sauce from the Pepé household – an endeavor that had taken quite some thought. Many spices were missing, so I had to substitute with whatever was close enough. I tasted the sauce; it wasn’t exactly earth-shattering, but at least it was a typical Northern dish, maybe with a hint of novelty thrown in. Northern folks usually wouldn’t go for such small diced meat.
When I brought one of the “sauce noodles” over to my mother, her expression was like someone witnessing a meteor for the first time.
“What… is this?”
Her face screamed, “How could there be such food? I’ve never heard of it! Where on earth did Pepé learn this? Noodles in broth? Can I even eat this? But it smells amazing!” She instinctively picked up her fork and poked around the noodles in her bowl.
“How do you eat this…?”
She looked both cautious and extremely curious, like a little girl. Then, she looked up at me and blinked, “Is this some kind of stew? I’ve been to the Royal City when I was younger, but I’ve never seen anyone eat like this…”
At that moment, the maids brought out various dishes for dinner. Due to the time constraints, I hadn’t prepared many dishes, which suddenly reminded me of something—I had been so focused on making noodles that I forgot all about chopsticks!
Not to mention, even if I looked for something to substitute for chopsticks, my mother wouldn’t know how to use them.
“Hmm…”
I tilted my head and thought: Idea!
I playfully winked at my mother, took the fork from her hand, twirled it through the noodles like they were spaghetti, and fed her a bite, saying, “Mom, ah—”
She instinctively leaned back, but seeing the look in my eyes, she obediently opened her mouth and took a rather awkward mouthful of noodles, chewing slowly with a frown.
In that moment, I felt a little anxious.
It had been too long since I made something like this…
What if something went wrong?
“Well…?”
I asked, and to my surprise, her furrowed brow began to smooth out, and a hint of a smile appeared on her face.
“…It’s edible.”
She stated, unconsciously taking the fork from my hand again for another bite.
“Flour without butter or milk, not baked in an oven, cut into strips and thrown into meat soup—you learned these quirky and peculiar things from where?”
“Hehe.”
I grinned, not elaborating: “I know a lot! If it pleases you, Mom, I can make you all sorts of things you’ve never tasted before.”
“Ha ha.”
My words seemed to delight her. She picked up a spoon from the table, dipped it into the noodle soup to taste: “Hmm… the soup is warm and salty, just right, but it lacks a bit of depth. Maybe add some goat milk and cinnamon next time? Did you often make these quirky dishes for Her Majesty when you were in the Royal City?”
This question led to a sudden twist. I was still pondering how goat milk could work in noodle soup when she mentioned Viki, and I froze for a second: “Uh… not exactly often, maybe occasionally?”
I instinctively told the truth.
In reality, I had only made it for Viki a few times, while I had done it for myself more. However, my mother might not interpret it this way.
“It makes sense… you all lived together in the Royal City, so it’s only natural you’d have dinner together. You’ve become more considerate; at home, you just sat back while everything was served to you, but there you’ve learned to take care of people.”
While her words sounded mundane, I couldn’t help but perceive a hint of acidity laced within.
“Mom…”
I smiled, a bit helpless, unsure how to respond, feeling that if I continued, things would only spiral deeper.
“When will I get to enjoy the privileges of Her Majesty?” Sigh.
My mother sighed, gazing at me.
“Mom~”
I quickly pouted and waved her hand: “But I made this for you…”
She shot me a look: “You just said you’d make dinner for me every day?”
“Of course, of course…” I continued my endearing act.
“Every day from now on? Until you get married?” Her fork was put down, her expression turning serious. “Every day might be a bit too much, so how about once a week? Can you manage that?”
“Um…”
I hesitated.
Because I knew what she meant.
“Mom, I’m not getting married…”
I mumbled, trying to change the topic, but my mother gently interrupted, looking at me with sincere eyes: “Alright, then you won’t marry.”
I opened my mouth but couldn’t find the words.
“Pepé, sit down.”
My mother pulled me to sit next to her, gazing at me intensely. The dark, gem-like beauty of her eyes sparkled softly.
“Mom…”
“If you don’t want to marry, then don’t. No one will force you; I won’t, and your father certainly won’t. We just want you to be happy. Cooking dinner should be the same—when you feel good, you can cook if you’d like; your mother isn’t demanding anything of you.”
She continued, “This is Shanter Castle, your home, a place where you can let go of all your defenses and burdens. Remember, no matter what happens in the future, there will always be family standing in front of you. I know you’re very capable, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Mom, I know—”
“So, Pepé, whether or not you’ll cook dinner for me again, it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Just promise me, since you’ve come home, don’t think about leaving again, okay?”
