Chapter 138: Things Matured by Time, The Taste of Memories
The morning sunlight continued to brighten, flooding the restaurant with a warm, golden glow that highlighted the dust motes dancing in the air.
Fuji Yumiko's declaration about the "secret dish" had landed like a stone in a still pond, sending ripples of shock through the breakfast table.
Cerberus, who was usually motivated solely by the prospect of meat, leaned forward so far she almost tipped her chair. Her ears were perked up like radar dishes, twitching with intense curiosity.
"Yumiko! Yumiko! Yumiko!" she chanted, her voice a mix of awe and desperation. "What kind of dish is it? Is it meat? Is it sweet? Is it a dragon?!"
Yumiko smiled—a slow, confident, cat-like expression that spoke volumes of her seniority in this strange little family. She leaned back, crossing her legs elegantly, and tapped her lips with a manicured finger.
"That," she whispered, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Is a secret. One of the little secrets between Ren and me."
"One of?"
The question hung in the air, sharp and incredulous.
It came from Lucifer. The Queen of Hell had put down her phone. Her crimson eyes were narrowed, fixated on Yumiko with an intensity usually reserved for rebellious demons.
"Of course," Yumiko teased, enjoying the reaction. "After all, I was the second regular customer he ever had. We have years of history. Years of... private menus. I have quite a few trump cards up my sleeve that you girls don't know about."
Lucifer's cheeks puffed out instantly. It was a rare, childish reaction from the ruler of the Underworld, but the jealousy was genuine.
She sat there, her small hands clenching into fists on her lap. A storm of insecurity raged in her mind.
This stinky man! Lucifer raged internally, staring holes into the tablecloth. Forget about lover's secrets, he hasn't even made that mysterious dish for me! Too much! Absolutely too much! I've been here for months, sleeping under his roof, wearing his apron, and yet... Yumiko has "years of history"?
She felt like a latecomer to a party that had been going on for a decade. She felt... distinctively secondary.
It's decided! I'm ignoring him! I won't talk to him until... until lunch!
Yumiko watched this internal struggle with a knowing smile. She reached out and patted Lucifer's clenched hand gently.
"Lucifer," Yumiko said softly. "You still need to mature a little. Relationships aren't built in a day, and neither are secrets."
Lucifer froze. She looked at Yumiko—this mature, confident woman who radiated a calm assurance she lacked—and nodded slowly. She understood the subtext. She was powerful, yes, but in matters of the heart, she was still a novice compared to the Witch of the Fuji family.
Lucifer took a deep breath, slowly unclasping her fists. A new goal formed in her mind, burning bright: I will have a secret with Ren. Something only we know. Something even Yumiko doesn't have.
Rumble.
The sound of rubber wheels rolling over wooden floorboards broke the tension.
Ren pushed a serving cart out from the kitchen. The smell that accompanied him wasn't the aggressive, savory scent of the earlier sandwiches. It was softer. Sweeter. More intimate.
Lucifer, forgetting her vow of silence instantly, whipped her head around. "Hmph!" she added for good measure, turning her head away to stare pointedly at the wall, though her eyes kept darting back to the cart.
Ren stopped the cart, blinking in confusion. He glanced at Yumiko. "Did I miss something? Why is the Queen pouting?"
Yumiko blushed, looking away innocently. "Don't look at me. I didn't say anything."
Ren chuckled, sensing the shift in the air. "Yumiko... are you hot? Your face is red."
Yumiko reached out and slapped his arm lightly, a playful scowl on her face. "Stop teasing. Are you still treating me like a little girl? Really... what did you make for me?"
Ren stopped teasing. He reached into the cart and lifted out a clay pot—a simple, rustic vessel that retained heat perfectly. He placed it in front of Yumiko.
Yumiko took a deep breath. She reached out and lifted the lid.
Whoosh.
Steam billowed out, carrying a scent that made her eyes widen with nostalgia.
"Oh!" she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "It's Meiling Porridge!"
"Meiling Porridge?"
The question was voiced simultaneously by both Lucifer and Cerberus. Their voices overlapped perfectly, a duet of pure confusion.
They craned their necks to see inside the pot.
It didn't look like normal porridge. It was thick, creamy, and impossibly white. It looked less like food and more like a bowl of melted pearls or cloud-stuff. There were no visible grains of rice at first glance—just a smooth, velvety expanse of white.
"What is this?" Cerberus sniffed the air, her nose twitching. "It smells... sweet. Like flowers and milk."
"This," Ren explained, ladling a portion into smaller bowls for the demons, "is a specialty from the Heavenly Dynasty. But unlike traditional congee, the base isn't water."
He pointed to the creamy liquid.
"It's Soy Milk."
"Soy milk?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow, accepting the bowl despite her earlier 'anger'.
"Freshly ground soy milk, simmered with sticky glutinous rice until they fuse into a rich paste," Ren continued, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "Then, I added lily bulbs for fragrance, grated yam for texture, and rock sugar for sweetness. It nourishes the lungs and beautifies the skin."
Lucifer's ears perked up at the words "beautifies the skin."
No woman—demon, human, or angel—is immune to the promise of beauty. Lucifer instantly abandoned her grudge. She looked at the white porridge with renewed interest. Since staying in the human world, she had become more conscious of her appearance. If this could make her skin glow like Yumiko's...
Cerberus had no such complex thoughts. She simply thought it smelled like sugar. That was enough.
Yumiko didn't wait. She picked up her spoon and took the first bite.
The texture was divine.
It wasn't watery like standard rice porridge. The glutinous rice had broken down completely during the long simmer, merging with the soy milk to create a thick, velvety suspension that coated the tongue. The flavor was a delicate balance—the nutty, earthy taste of the soy beans, the floral whisper of the lily bulbs, and the subtle, clean sweetness of the rock sugar.
But there was a surprise.
Chew.
Inside the smooth paste were grains of rice that had kept their shape.
"Japonica rice," Ren noted, watching her expression. "I added steamed Japonica rice at the very end. If it was all glutinous rice, it would be too sticky. The Japonica adds a necessary chewiness. A bit of independence in the midst of the blend."
Yumiko swallowed, feeling the warmth spread from her chest to her toes. It was comfort in a bowl. It tasted like safety.
"It's delicious," she whispered. "Just like I remember."
Lucifer took a tentative sip. Her crimson eyes widened. It was sweet, but not cloying. It felt... healthy. Like she was drinking pure vitality.
"Yumiko," Lucifer asked, wiping a drop of soy milk from her lip. "You seem very familiar with this porridge? You looked almost... emotional just now."
Yumiko smiled, swirling her spoon in the white paste. She looked up at Ren, her gaze soft and unfocused, lost in memory.
"Because," Yumiko said softly. "The very first dish Ren ever made for me... was this porridge."
"Oh?" Lucifer leaned in, sensing a story. "The first dish?"
"I was nineteen," Yumiko began, her voice taking on a storytelling cadence. "Just a college student. That day... I don't know what I ate, but I had a terrible stomach flu. I was weak, dizzy, and I had thrown up all afternoon. It was raining."
Ren nodded, leaning against the counter as he picked up the story. "She looked like a ghost. She stumbled into the shop, collapsed onto table three, and whispered 'porridge'. She was soaked to the bone."
"I fell asleep," Yumiko laughed, a self-deprecating sound. "I passed out right there on the table. Ren made me a standard rice porridge, but I wouldn't wake up. By the time I finally stirred, the porridge had turned into a cold, solid paste."
"I reheated it four times," Ren sighed, shaking his head. "But she was out cold. So... I drank it myself. And then, I decided to make something easier to digest."
"Meiling Porridge," Yumiko murmured. "I woke up to the smell of soy milk. It was the only thing I could keep down. He even went out in the rain to buy medicine for me."
"I stayed here that night," Yumiko added, looking directly at Lucifer. "I slept in the booth. Ren stayed up reading, keeping watch over a stranger. When I woke up the next morning, I felt... cured. Not just my stomach. But my heart felt lighter."
Lucifer stared at her. She realized then that the bond between Ren and Yumiko wasn't just about attraction or flirtation. It was built on care. It was built on moments like that—quiet moments of vulnerability and support that happened long before Lucifer or any of the others arrived.
"From that day on," Yumiko smiled, "I became a regular. I brought Shusuke and Yuta. This place became... home."
"If I had just given you the plain porridge back then," Ren mused, "it probably would have worked too."
"Maybe," Yumiko agreed. "But this one... this one felt like you cared. It was nourishing."
"Alright," Ren clapped his hands gently, breaking the melancholy atmosphere. "Enough nostalgia. Eat before it gets cold. The goji berries on top are for your eyes, Lucifer. Don't pick them out."
"I wasn't!" Lucifer lied, quickly shoveling a bright red berry into her mouth.
The three women ate in silence, the only sound the clinking of porcelain spoons against the bowls.
The Meiling Porridge was simple. White soy milk, white rice, white lily bulbs. But dotted on top were bright red goji berries.
They stood out against the whiteness, impossible to ignore. Just like certain people in a life that was otherwise ordinary. Just like the memories that refused to fade, no matter how much time passed.
Yumiko finished her bowl and set it down with a satisfied sigh. She looked at Ren, who was watching her with a gentle expression.
What settles with the temperature isn't just the porridge; it's the sweetness.
And what matures with time isn't just age; it's feelings.
"Ren," Yumiko said suddenly, breaking the silence.
"Yes?"
"Let's make those chocolates."
"Now?" Ren raised an eyebrow.
"Now," she stood up, rolling up her sleeves with determination. "I feel energized. And I have a feeling... today is going to be a good day."
[Akarin's Note: Meiling Porridge (Meiling Zhou) is a famous Nanjing dish made of soy milk, yam, glutinous rice, and lily bulbs. It is named after Soong Mei-ling, who reportedly loved it for its beauty benefits.]
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