Jingfei awakened to a background hum of muffled, mystical voices-mysterious, probing, and laced with judgment-all while still confined within a potato sack. Movement stirred around her: someone was carrying her like an accursed parcel. Then, without warning, she was unceremoniously dumped onto a cold, unforgiving stone floor. The sack fell open, and sharp shafts of light pierced her eyes.
Squinting against the brightness, she scanned her surroundings until her gaze locked onto him once more. There he was again-towering, brooding, and infuriatingly violet-eyed-with his jet-black hair perfectly framing chiseled cheekbones and that same expression balanced between nonchalant boredom and smug amusement. It was clear he was the very man who had treated her like yesterday's forgotten laundry.
Before her mind could fully catch up, her body moved on its own: she lunged at him with the raw, desperate energy of a wild animal. She clawed at his handsome face with the fury of a woman who had endured the worst 48 hours imaginable.
"YOU POINTY-EARED CREEP!" she shrieked.
He staggered back, his hands raised in a feeble attempt to shield himself as she lunged further. She seized his collar and aimed a savage assault at his nose-even trying to bite it, determined to remove it from his smug face.
"YOU WANNA SACK ME?! SACK THIS, YOU JERK!!" she hollered.
A startled shout burst from him in a language his furrowed eyebrows might once have considered expressive. He tumbled backward, desperately trying to wrest control over her as if she were some demonic creatures. The struggle unfolded chaotically, a tit-for-tat clash that was, frankly, fair enough.
In an instant, he shoved her with such force that she rolled off, crashed onto the hard ground, and bolted like a wounded animal. She sprinted with the ferocity of someone propelled by ancestral spirits until, unbelievably, there it was: a gleaming sword resting atop a pedestal-ceremonial, majestic, and entirely within reach.
Gripping it firmly, she spun around and levelled the blade at the motley group of captors before her, swearing with the authority of a vengeful Master of the Book Pavilion.
"BACK OFF! YOU POINTY-EARED DEMON-SPAWN BASTARDS!" she thundered.
The assembled figures immediately froze into a tableau of quiet awe-a mix of six, eight, or perhaps even more individuals, all dressed in long coats and tall boots, exuding a grace that belied their underwhelming reaction to her overcaffeinated assault.
She screamed once more, her voice cracking with righteous fury, "WHERE'S MY PRINCESS?! I SWEAR BY THE SKY SPIRITS, I WILL DISMANTLE YOU ALL!"
Then she saw her-Mei-Ling-lying on a soft mound of furs near a wall, her pale face serene in unconscious repose, her breaths shallow and light. Her heart sank to an unbearable halt.
In a shadowed corner, Gui was ensnared in a rustic cage, his low, pained growl hinting at a bottled-up rage waiting to be unleashed.
Spinning back toward the bewildered crowd, her fury simmered into a palpable, vibrating intensity. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?! WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!" she bellowed, her voice echoing with a promise of retribution. "I WILL END YOUR ENTIRE FOREST!"
They all stared in vacant confusion-heads tilting like perplexed birds, one even offering a polite cough in bewilderment. Not one of them grasped the enormity of her exasperated tirade.
She let loose another scream-something that melded sacred fire and soul vengeance-when suddenly, the dark-haired one edged closer. Without warning, he raised his hand and muttered an incantation, flinging a delicate puff of glittering dust directly into her face.
"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!" she choked out through coughing fits, staggering backward. "You throw dust at me?! Is this your grand idea of communication?! You-" Before she could articulate another word, everything around her shifted.
Her ears filled with ringing static; her vision blurred and swam as she blinked rapidly, her throat feeling raw and scratchy; and then, as if someone had flicked a hidden switch, she began to understand them. Where once there had been gibberish, now a refined and strangely formal Common language poured into her ears.
"-please calm down," one of them said soothingly, his hands raised in a placating manner, as though she weren't brandishing a very real, very sharp sword.
Her outrage could no longer be contained. "YOU KIDNAPPED US!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.
The entire outpost tensed as if the very air held its breath. She pointed the sword squarely at the one responsible for the dust. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY PRINCESS?! If you so much as cast one harmful glance her way, I swear by all nine skies, I will carve my name into your spleen!"
He blinked in surprise. "She's unharmed. Both of you were unconscious. We brought you here to-"
"TO WHAT? TO CONDUCT EXPERIMENTS?! TO DEVOUR US?! TO DRAIN OUR SPIRIT ESSENCE?!" she roared, the words tumbling out amid shocked gasps and whispered murmurs from the surrounding figures. One even timidly whispered, "Spirit essence?"
In her fury, she started spinning in aggravated circles, wildly gesturing with the sword like a furious windmill. "I AM NOT AFRAID TO COMMIT MULTIPLE FELONIES!" she threatened.
At once, the assembled figures backed away, as if her words had magically summoned an invisible barrier. Deep inside, however, she began to like the power.
"Enough!" A voice, cold and razor-sharp, sliced through the chaos, forcing everyone to halt. Silence fell over the outpost like a heavy, oppressive curtain; even the wind stilled, as if bracing itself for what was to come next.
A man known as Mr. Knife-to-the-Throat stepped forward-his silver hair glistening in the subdued light, his eyes as frosty as winter's bite, and his expression unwavering in disdainful authority.
He fixed his gaze on her. "Why were two women found alone, trespassing in restricted territory?"
She arched an eyebrow in feigned innocence. "Oh, I don't know," she replied with biting sarcasm, "perhaps because we tumbled through a magical tree rune into your overgrown backyard and conveniently ignored the invisible sign that read, 'Property of Pointy-Eared Bastards Who Kidnap Helpless Women?'"
From behind him, the dark-haired one-the same guy who'd casually ejected her like yesterday's trash-let out a snort so badly hidden it practically tripped over itself and landed as a full-on, disrespectful giggle.
Knife Man didn't even bother turning his whole head-just a slow, frosty side-eye that might as well have come with a warning label. The giggle died on the spot, like a whoopee cushion at a funeral. The snorter straightened up so fast it looked like he'd been hit with an invisible ruler, while the guy next to him stiffened like he'd just seen his mom walk in.
"Right," intoned the Silver-haired man, turning his gaze back to her. "I am General Aelric Aerandorson, commander of this outpost." He gestured to the man beside him. "This is Lorianthel Velas'tari-second in command and the one you clearly attempted to assault."
Lorianthel's lips curved into a slow, meaningful smirk as he dipped his head, acknowledging her recent attempt at biting his nose in a manner both absurd and inadvisable.
She fixed him with an unyielding stare. "Try sacking me again, and I'll go for the ear next."
General Aelric, unfazed by her insolence, continued, "Your companion," he said, nodding toward the still form of Mei-Ling, "was placed under a low-level sleep spell for her own safety. It should have worn off by now, but she appears to be unusually weak."
Jingfei eyes darted back to Mei-Ling's pallid form, and panic clenched her chest.
"She will recover," Aelric assured her calmly. "It may simply take some time."
Before she could press further, Lorianthel advanced without warning, yanking the sword straight from her grasp in one swift, deliberate motion.
"Hey!" she snapped, trying in vain to reclaim her weapon.
Holding it aloft, Lorianthel inspected the blade with the clinical detachment of someone weighing a cursed trinket. "I will take this before you stab someone else or yourself," he stated matter-of-factly.
Aelric interjected, "Now that it is clear you are not an immediate threat, you may remain until your companion awakens. After that, you are free to leave."
"Free?" she echoed in disbelief, narrowing her eyes. "So generous. Shall I compose a thank-you poem?"
He offered no laughter. Naturally, he did not. Instead, he turned toward Mei-Ling, gently scooping her into his arms as if she were a fragile treasure, and started walking off.
"HEY!" she shouted, her voice cracking with anger. "Where are you taking her?!"
"A place to rest," he replied calmly over his shoulder. "You are welcome to roam the outpost-preferably without attempting to murder anyone."
And with that, he disappeared through a heavy, wooden door, Mei-Ling cradled in his arms.
Jingfei stood there, seething with impotent rage.
Shortly thereafter, Lorianthel joined her, his demeanour relaxed and casual despite her recent dismemberment attempts. "You must be hungry," he said in a tone that almost masked irony with congeniality. "Come, I'll get you something."
She followed him carefully, still primed to lash out if provoked. They stopped at a sturdy wooden bench. He presented her with a simple bowl crafted from aged timber.
Curiosity mingled with loathing as she peered inside. Grey goo slithered within-an unappetizing, quivering mass interspersed with stray bits of leaf and suspicious, stick-like fragments that darted away whenever she jabbed the spoon into the concoction.
"Are you trying to kill me, or poison me?" she asked, genuinely perplexed by the culinary atrocity.
Lorianthel merely sighed in resignation. "It is disgusting, I know. But you eventually get used to it."
She scooped up a tentative chunk with the spoon, watching it shudder and slide as if desperate to escape, then gingerly returned it to the bowl. "Nope. Absolutely not," she declared, standing abruptly. "If I'm confined here until my princess wakes up, I'm not consuming something that appears determined to flee the spoon."
Rolling up her sleeves with resolute indignation, she demanded, "Show me the kitchen."
Though his eyebrows rose in mild surprise, he led the way without objection. And oh, the audacity of it all.
The pantry was astonishing-a cornucopia of herbal jars, intricately labeled spices, assorted grains, and collections of cured meats and dried mushrooms stacked like treasures awaiting discovery. Ingredients fit only for a royal banquet were on display, yet somehow this culinary sanctuary was responsible for dishing out a wiggly grey sadness paste.
"You have star anise and imperial peppercorn," she growled bitterly, "and you serve what looks unmistakably like death jelly?!"
Lorianthel merely shrugged, helpless under the weight of culinary failures. "We don't know how to cook, my lady."
She paused, blinking in disbelief. "You know what?" she said, pulling her hair back with a determined tug. "Move aside-I'm taking over this kitchen."
An hour later, the outpost was filled with the heavenly aroma of spices and simmering broth-a scent so intoxicating it seemed to stir gratitude in the hearts of those who rarely experienced such pleasure. The disciplined soldiers, who until now had treated her with wary suspicion as if she were an unpredictable goblin, began peeking into the kitchen. Their eyes widened, and drool threatened to spill over as their stomachs rumbled like starving caged beast.
Lorianthel stood beside her, his eyes glistening with moisture from the potent spices, his expression blending astonishment with a trace of fear.
Hovering over a bubbling cauldron, she tapped its rim twice with a well-worn ladle and grinned in triumphant satisfaction. "Well, boys," she declared, her voice rich with mischief and pride, "who wants dinner?"
"ME! ME!" the outpost erupted in unison, a chaotic chorus of hungry shouts as they practically tumbled over one another in anticipation.
That evening marked the first time in their otherwise regimented, under-seasoned existence that they experienced something truly delicious. They returned for seconds, then thirds-and one even shed a tear.
Thus, the outpost experienced the arrival of Zhao Jingfei-a chaotic, furious, and slightly unhinged maid tasked with safeguarding a runaway princess-who, against all expectations, became their new kitchen deity.