Su Qinglan shoved the troubling thoughts to the back of her mind and set to work. She cleaned the pork intestine carefully, rinsing it until the smell was gone.
She chopped the few vegetables she had—a small bunch of wild greens and some onion and she smashed a bit of ginger to chase away the strong scent. A dash of salt, a little water, and the pot began to sing over the fire.
Steam rose, warm and plain, carrying the smell of ginger and onion. Su Qinglan stirred the pot with steady hands, tasting and humming to herself.
The meat softened, the vegetables wilted, and the soup turned rich and fragrant. When she finally ladled a spoonful into a bowl, the flavor was just wow; it was simple and good enough for a feast.
Just then, a shadow fell over her. Rong Ye had come. He sat down in front of her with a large stone basin...his own eating bowl and pretended he was being casual but couldn't hide the greedy look in his eyes. His violet eyes shone with hunger.
