84 - Crazy! Criticizing the Prime Minister for Being a Servant

Chapter 84: The Demon Palace After Ran Fan Yin left, everything related to making dumplings proceeded in an orderly manner. Ning Song Wu had been occasionally sneaking into the kitchen for years, learning to cook some dishes. She persistently begged the cook to teach her and picked up quite a bit along the way. Cen Ran had the good fortune to taste Ning Song Wu's cooking a few times. Her culinary skills were excellent, yet somehow, her dishes always leaned towards the sweet side. Cen Ran merely assumed that Ning Song Wu hadn't quite grown up and still had a fondness for sugary flavors. Suddenly, Luo Sheng dashed in, sniffing here and there, with a mischievous grin on his face, “Ladies, are the dumplings in the pot yet?” Cen Ran, in the middle of wrapping dumplings, lightly tapped Luo Sheng on the head with her flour-dusted hand, “Out! You're just causing trouble by running in.” “Oh, wow! You dare hit your senior brother?” Luo Sheng exclaimed, feigning astonishment. Ning Song Wu, troubled by the flour on her clothes, spotted an opportunity and coldly smiled, “Senior Brother, don't blame me for being merciless.” She picked up a bowl of flour next to her and dumped it over Luo Sheng’s head. “Ning Song Wu!!!” Luo Sheng yelled. Cen Ran laughed so hard she nearly doubled over, looking at the flustered, flour-covered Luo Sheng, as if she might laugh her insides out. He Lan Mian Mian suddenly popped her head in from behind Luo Sheng, “Phew, good thing I let Big Brother go first. Ning Song Wu, couldn't you wait for me just this once?” At sixteen, He Lan Mian Mian had grown into her features. Her long-lashed, round eyes were incredibly endearing, her features exquisite and noble, much like Ning Song Wu. Not at all suited for the quiet and austere place meant for cultivation. Just looking at her face, one might think she’d wink at you playfully in the next moment. As soon as Cen Ran saw He Lan Mian Mian, her laughter ceased, and she returned to her task at hand. Ning Song Wu chuckled, “I promised Master I’d be back for dinner. Wait for you? If I waited for you, I’d miss dinner. You were too busy being all lovey-dovey with Brother Jing Hu at Hongfei Pavilion…” “Shut up! I wasn’t!” He Lan Mian Mian hastily stopped Ning Song Wu, glancing at Cen Ran, who looked even more displeased. “All your fault, He Lan Mian Mian! If only you hadn’t asked me to bring you to see Cen Ran…” Luo Sheng shouted. He Lan Mian Mian scoffed, “Brother, you sure know how to pick a scapegoat! Just say it if you can’t bring yourself to blame your little junior sister Ning Song Wu. But you have no qualms about blaming your own family…” “What’s the fuss? Take it outside if you’re going to argue,” Cen Ran shot a glare at He Lan Mian Mian. Quickly, He Lan Mian Mian scampered over to cozy up to Cen Ran, “Cen Ran, would you really scold me? You haven’t come to see me at Hongfei Pavilion for half a month…” “Don’t touch me, go away,” Cen Ran shrugged off He Lan Mian Mian’s hand, her expression icy. “Cen Ran, believe me, I’m really not involved with Brother Jing Hu…” He Lan Mian Mian pleaded, eyes brimming with innocence. Noticing the delicacy of the moment, Ning Song Wu decided to leave, grabbing Luo Sheng, “Let’s go, we’ll leave them to chat,” and quickly exited the kitchen, closing the door behind them. He Lan Mian Mian was pleased to see her roommate dragging her brother away, but the impending conversation was her true concern. “Cen Ran,” He Lan Mian Mian approached again, thick-skinned. Cen Ran remained focused on her dumplings, showing no intention of acknowledging He Lan Mian Mian. “Cen Ran, I swear, nothing happened between me and Brother Jing Hu. Don’t believe Ning Song Wu’s nonsense,” He Lan Mian Mian pressed on. “…” “Do you think it’s my fault that I’m pretty? They all enjoy sending me those cheesy love poems, I… I merely smiled back a couple of times. I haven’t been involved with any of them.” “…” Cen Ran still didn’t look up. Disregarding the flour on Cen Ran’s hands, He Lan Mian Mian clasped her hands and, with force, pinned her against the table, leaning down to press Cen Ran against the kitchen counter. “How bold. Have you forgotten who taught you your skills?” Cen Ran spoke coldly. He Lan Mian Mian leaned her lips close to Cen Ran’s ear, smiling, “I haven’t forgotten, Cen Ran. It’s you who always ignores me. How long has it been since you visited me? Don’t you miss me? Hmm?” Cen Ran’s gaze was icy, with a hint of sadness, “He Lan Mian Mian, don’t be so audacious.” He Lan Mian Mian bit down on Cen Ran’s earlobe, her words indistinct, “You still don’t trust me.” Cen Ran’s face flushed crimson as she turned away, avoiding He Lan Mian Mian’s kiss, “Trust you? Trust you how? Trust that you won’t be so conspicuous, won’t flirt with others? Or trust that as a proud princess, you can offer me anything substantial?” “I like you. I told you a year ago, I like you,” He Lan Mian Mian turned her head, earnestly meeting Cen Ran’s eyes. “How many people have you liked?” Cen Ran averted her gaze, gently pushing He Lan Mian Mian away. He Lan Mian Mian held Cen Ran tightly, cupping her chin before passionately kissing her. Cen Ran didn’t resist but didn’t respond either, tolerating it like one would humor a child's tantrum. He Lan Mian Mian ravaged Cen Ran’s soft lips, desperate to consume her entirely. Her lips savored Cen Ran’s, almost biting them to the brink, yet she wouldn’t relent. The sight of these two striking women ensnared in an embrace in the kitchen would make anyone’s heart race, the air heavy with an ardor-laden intensity. Finally, Cen Ran pushed He Lan Mian Mian away, her lips swollen and glistening like tender petals kissed by dew. “Are you still angry?” He Lan Mian Mian asked, breathless and cautiously. Cen Ran tidied her disheveled clothing, her expression softened. After a moment, she spoke: “Have you eaten?” He Lan Mian Mian’s eyes lit up with joy, quickly responding, “Not yet.” “Sit down, I’ll make you some noodles,” Cen Ran set aside her dumplings, wiped her hands, and moved to the kitchen to cook noodles. He Lan Mian Mian obediently sat, savoring the memory of Cen Ran’s soft lips, smiling, “Cen Ran, you’d make a wonderful wife.” Cen Ran responded nonchalantly, “Yes, always cleaning up after a husband who loves getting into trouble.” He Lan Mian Mian blushed but seemed to relish the comparison, continuing, “You know, I just enjoy interacting with people. But my favorite is still you. Cen Ran, why not marry me?” “There’s no possibility. Stop dreaming.” Cen Ran, seven years older than He Lan Mian Mian, naturally didn’t take this banter seriously. “Or, you could marry me! Dress in men’s clothes, I’ll take you home to the royal city and have the emperor name you my prince consort,” He Lan Mian Mian suggested playfully. “That’s impossible. If you want a prince consort, just grab anyone from Hongfei Pavilion,” Cen Ran replied coldly. He Lan Mian Mian stood, wrapping her arms around Cen Ran from behind, pressing her lips close to Cen Ran’s ear, “I want no one else... just you... marry me...” Cen Ran’s cheeks flushed as she silently tended to the noodles in the pot. Meanwhile, Ning Song Wu and Luo Sheng decided to focus on writing couplets, leaving the kitchen to Cen Ran. When Luo Sheng finally started writing, He Lan Mian Mian had run to Rongku Pavilion, leaving his half-written couplets behind. As he and Ning Song Wu returned, they discovered Ran Fan Yin sitting in his spot, examining the stack of red paper. Ning Song Wu couldn’t help but smile, “Master, can’t you take a rest? Running around, always looking for something to do?” Ran Fan Yin glanced up at her, responding evenly, “Are the dumplings ready?” “Yes, some are done. We hid some coins in them this year to see who gets lucky,” Ning Song Wu laughed. Ran Fan Yin pointed to the half-written couplet on the table, “Zi Sheng, did you write this?” Luo Sheng nodded eagerly, “Yes, I just started the upper line, and then He Lan Mian Mian came along…” “Well done,” Ran Fan Yin praised, nodding. “Ning Song Wu, why don’t you complete the couplet?” Ning Song Wu raised an eyebrow, reading the upper half: “The door welcomes joy, joy welcomes the door.” Amused, she stepped forward, grabbed the brush, and completed the couplet on another sheet of red paper: “The house is filled with spring breeze, spring fills the house.” Luo Sheng chuckled, “Ning Song Wu, your literary skills are still as unoriginal as ever.” “You call your upper line inspired?” Ning Song Wu retorted, “Besides, it’s New Year’s, a little cliché suits the occasion.” Ran Fan Yin commented, “Ning Song Wu is right.” Luo Sheng grumbled under his breath, “You women just gang up on me… Bully me…” Ignoring Luo Sheng, Ran Fan Yin took a piece of red paper, borrowing the brush from Ning Song Wu. With a smile, he wrote the horizontal inscription: “A Lifetime with Ning Song Wu.” The characters stood bold and powerful, as befitting the esteemed Northern Punishment Lord. “A Lifetime with Ning Song Wu…” Ning Song Wu softly repeated those words, feeling as if a warm ray of sunshine bathed her heart. Ran Fan Yin set the brush down with satisfaction, “Put it up over the doorway.” Ning Song Wu carefully picked up the red paper, admiring the beautiful calligraphy for a long time before saying, "Master, why don't I take this one back and keep it? Could you write another?" "What nonsense, just take it with Zi Sheng and put it up at the main entrance of Rongku Pavilion," Ran Fan Yin said with a gentle smile. "Tonight, I'm expecting dumplings." "But it's not time for dumplings yet... it's supposed to be in two days..." Luo Sheng timidly interjected. "If Master says to eat today, then we're eating today," Ning Song Wu decidedly interrupted, leaving Luo Sheng no room to argue. "Oh... alright..." Luo Sheng obediently took the couplet and went with Ning Song Wu to hang them at the main entrance. After putting up the couplet, Ning Song Wu quickly went to check on the large batch of New Year's goods Cen Ran had brought back a few days ago. Cen Ran, being quite resourceful, had brought everything: papercuts, palace lanterns, firecrackers, fireworks, and a few festive red garments. Ning Song Wu smiled as she rummaged through the pile. She was someone who enjoyed lively events; if she had the chance, she'd love to descend the mountain to see the vibrant world described in the storybooks. However, she had been on the snowy Beifa Mountain for as long as she could remember. Now, seeing such a vivid collection of New Year's goods, she genuinely felt the breath of the mundane world. She probably wasn't meant for such a serene and quiet place. Still, as long as Master was here, she'd be here too. Suddenly, her hand brushed against a dark brown paper bag, sparking her curiosity. She picked it up—it felt slender and long. She slipped her fingers inside, pulling out a bamboo skewer. It was a string of bright red tanghulu. Thanks to Beifa's cold weather, the tanghulu hadn't melted despite being there for a while. It was her first time seeing tanghulu. Just like the books described. But wait... Something wasn't right... it wasn’t her first time. Something flickered through her mind—a vague image of a white-clad figure much taller than her. The surroundings seemed noisy, like a bustling street, and the figure held a similar string of tanghulu, stuffing it into their mouth. Then, it was gone. Was it just her imagination? Ning Song Wu stared blankly at the tanghulu in her hand for a long time, eventually biting into it. The thick sugar coating mingled with the sour hawthorn, creating an incredibly delightful mix—crispy, soft, and sweetly cloying. As she chewed slowly, a realization washed over her—she had eaten this before. Suddenly, an illogical but overwhelming urge to cry seized her, as if the person who once fed her tanghulu had abandoned her.