Chapter 36
Chapter 36
Just like most people's first brush with computers.
Kakayan spent the whole morning racing through Snake, Fireboy and Watergirl, and Tetris—every classic she could find.
By the time Jiang Li thought to offer guidance, she already knew her way around a keyboard and mouse.
Her learning curve was so steep she could probably outplay ninety-nine percent of first-time users nationwide.
Jiang Li hovered nearby, wondering if the kid was ready for something harder.
Something like Sekiro, Dark Souls, or Monster Hunter.
"Don't glue your face to the screen; you'll ruin your eyes."
Kakayan leaned forward, pupils glittering like shards of neon.
Jiang Li sighed—she looked every inch the terminally online girl.
Kakayan said nothing, only kept rotating and slotting the falling blocks into perfect lines.
"Ah..."
At last she exhaled, slumping against the back of the sofa as though the air had gone out of her.
"What now?"
Jiang Li hadn't expected her to get so invested; every so often she let out a yelp that sounded painfully real.
"Ugh... my chest hurts."
Eyes shut, head tipped back, Kakayan looked as if a hoard of painstakingly collected gems had vanished into thin air.
Jiang Li's heart skipped—he thought she was sick.
If she collapsed, where on earth was he supposed to take her?
"All those shiny stones—gone the instant the line cleared."
Kakayan sounded mournful.
"That's what scoring's for," Jiang Li said with a laugh.
He'd assumed it was something serious—turned out it was only Tetris grief.
Kakayan's brows drew together. "But they were beautiful—amber, blood-red, sea-blue...
I'd stacked them so carefully, and then—poof, nothing."
Jiang Li chuckled. "They turned into warm, friendly numbers instead."
"?"
Kakayan's delicate eyebrows twitched; she shot him a look of pure disbelief, teeth catching her lower lip.
The effect was ridiculously cute.
So she likes pretty stones, Jiang Li thought.
"Don't take it so hard," he said, clearing his throat. "Everything inside a game is make-believe.
If you like stones, tomorrow we'll hit the museum—they've got real ones."
"I don't like the ugly ones," Kakayan muttered.
"Trust me, you'll find something you like."
"Oh." She nodded, then tilted her head. "Why not go today, then?"
Jiang Li pointed at the wall clock. "It's a two-hour ride into town; we'd never make it back before dark."
It was already noon.
Besides, he wanted to shoot footage for his next video without having to dash there and back.
And, more importantly, the rice cooker was full to bursting.
That morning Kakayan had tossed two extra scoops of rice into the pot; by the time Jiang Li noticed, it was too late.
The rice had overflowed.
If they didn't eat it, he'd lose sleep over the waste.
Stupid woman.
Utterly hopeless.
...
"Peel this potato."
At lunchtime Jiang Li commandeered the kitchen; Kakayan hovered as his assistant.
People can't just eat—they need to know how food happens.
Otherwise you wind up with eight bowls of rice when you only meant to make two.
Might as well teach her now; she learned fast, and an extra pair of hands would be handy later.
As the saying goes, skills never weigh you down.
"Once you can cook, you can make whatever you're craving."
Jiang Li was laying it on thick.
"Uh..."
Kakayan studied the muddy potato in her hand. "Your food tastes better than anything I could make."
"Flattery won't work. Wash it, then peel—I'll show you how to julienne."
"Okay..."
Sure, she was buttering him up, but Jiang Li knew his limits: stir-fried potato shreds, tomato-and-egg scramble, pork with green peppers—simple stuff.
Kakayan's praise was just the bliss of a foreigner tasting refined food for the first time.
Once she learned the tricks—oil, salt, soy, vinegar, the cheat-code that is MSG—she'd be turning out delicious meals on her own.
"This thing has no flavor at all," Kakayan muttered, sliding the peeler along the potato. "How can it taste good?"
"Trust me, potatoes can be amazing." Jiang Li lowered his cleaver, thinking.
"Cut them into strips and you get soft, salty fries; slice them thin and you have crispy chips.
They're cheap, and we treat them like treasure."
Kakayan didn't recognize the names, but her taste buds were already staging a rebellion.
"Then let's make fries and chips later!"
"Can't."
Instant rejection.
Kakayan pressed her lips together, handing over the peeled potato.
Unreliable man, she thought, always dangling food in front of me.
Reading her expression, Jiang Li took the potato. "What I make won't be restaurant-perfect, but at least it's healthy."
With a flick of his wrist he began shredding the potato, blade moving so fast the pieces fell like silk—two and a half years of sword drills paying unexpected dividends.
"Drop these in water."
He handed the bowl to her and pulled two green peppers from the fridge.
Lunch would be pork with peppers and potato shreds—simple, fast, satisfying.
"No snacking."
He was mid-slice when he heard the unmistakable crunch of raw potato.
"Tastes bland," Kakayan complained, prowling the kitchen like a cat on the prowl.
She had to test everything, even if she knew it would be awful.
"Then wash the dishes."
Jiang Li gestured with his knife toward the pile in the corner.
Keep her busy, he figured, or she'll just fixate on food.
Washing dishes was one of the few kitchen tasks Kakayan had already mastered.
Jiang Li finished prepping the peppers and set the wok over high heat.
These dishes needed only two minutes of stir-frying.
Sizzle-sizzle.
He tossed the pork into the shimmering oil; the wok roared like a dragon.
Kakayan jumped, shielding her face with a plate.
The fragrance of seared meat drifted up; curiosity drew her closer.
Jiang Li flipped the wok with one hand, spatula flashing in the other, eyes focused.
"Don't get too close—oil spits."
His voice was calm as ever.
Splash—
More ingredients hit the pan, the sound like surf against cliffs.
Kakayan found herself staring at the sharp line of his profile, brows slightly knit in concentration.
A drop of hot oil leapt out.
"Yow!"
"Told you to keep back, you klutz."