I got home at noon to find Lin Yao crouched in front of the refrigerator I'd damaged, heaving a long sigh.
I quietly hid the cutting board behind my back and tried to butter her up. "Honey, I brought you something great for your skin — honey water!"
Lin Yao raised an eyebrow and took the honey water. She'd barely taken a sip before she frowned. "Lu Yuan, did you mix laundry powder into this?"
"No way!" I scrambled to explain. "Oh, right — Old Man Wang from the market gave me a few fish. I'll make grilled fish for you and Xiao Chuan tonight." With one hand I shoved all of Old Man Wang's fish into the refrigerator's chiller compartment as fast as I could.
"You're cooking for us?" Lin Yao looked up, but her gaze had already drifted to the cutting board I was hiding behind my back. The corners of her mouth curved into a dangerous smile. "And what's that? Were you planning to knock me out with it and collect the life insurance?"
"Of course not!" I gave a hollow laugh and set the dark, blackened cutting board on the table. Faint golden runes shimmered across its surface in the light. "This is a meteorite-iron cutting board — three hundred years ago—"
"Stop right there." Lin Yao held up a hand. "Last time you told me our washing machine was a 'spiritual-energy tempering furnace,' and it shrank my pyjamas into children's clothes. Now you're turning up with a meteorite-iron cutting board?"
I rubbed the tip of my nose, feeling a little sheepish.
Just then, Xiao Chuan came bursting out of his room, waving an Ultraman card above his head. "Dad! Where's my ice cream?"
"Something way cooler tonight!" I ruffled his hair, seizing the chance to dodge Lin Yao's stare. "Dad's making you 'Galaxy Ice Cream.' One bite and you'll see actual stars!"
Xiao Chuan's eyes lit up. Lin Yao pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed in resignation.
The rain showed no sign of letting up outside, so I hurried out to the balcony with some buckets and collected several buckets of "skywater" — rainwater untouched by the earth — then crouched in the corner of the kitchen and got to work preparing the Qi-Gathering Pellets.
I chipped off roughly one-tenth of a pellet — each about the size of a pigeon's egg — and ground it into powder. Lin Yao happened to walk past the kitchen just as I was doing this and caught me in the act. "Lu Yuan, are you about to dope the fish?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Lu Yuan, you had better come clean. What exactly are you up to?"
I sighed and decided to bluff my way through — there was no way on earth she'd believe I was actually cultivating immortality. "Well… I'm researching a new type of seasoning. It releases trace elements into the food, which is supposed to be really good for you."
"Oh?" Lin Yao raised an eyebrow. She tapped a fingertip against the dark golden runes along the edge of the cutting board. "Then why is this cutting board hot?"
"High-tech materials!" I blurted, tiny beads of sweat forming on my forehead. "The heat kills bacteria — destroys aflatoxins."
"Fine." Lin Yao was only half convinced. As she left the kitchen, she snapped a photo of me hunched busily over the stove and posted it to her social feed: Field Notes: Early Humans Taming the Kitchen.
Once she was gone, I poured the powdered Qi-Gathering Pellet into a porcelain bowl. The skywater inside began to ripple on its own, and a thin curl of white mist carrying the scent of grass and wood rose from the surface.
I was just about to stir it with a spoon when the old man's voice crackled in my ear: "Don't touch it with a stainless-steel spoon — the spiritual energy will bleed right out through the metal!"
I scrambled to dig a pair of wooden chopsticks out of the drawer, and only after quite a struggle managed to stir the powder evenly through the liquid. I stared at the faintly glowing solution, heart full of unease.
The old man, for his part, had recovered his composure. He waved his tattered fan lazily and said, "All right. Put the live fish in."
The moment I slipped the fish into the bowl, I heard Lin Yao's voice drifting in from the living room. "Lu Yuan — why did Old Man Wang give you so many fish? They won't all fit in the chiller!"
I mumbled something vague back at her, but my eyes never left the bowl. The instant the fish made contact with the liquid, its scales shimmered with a faint golden sheen, and the dull, glazed look in its eyes gave way to something bright and alive. But before I could breathe a sigh of relief, the fish began thrashing wildly, sending droplets splashing across the floor.
"Bad — the concentration is too high! Add more skywater, dilute it, quickly!" The old man's shout sent me into a frenzied scramble.
I grabbed the bucket beside me and poured water in furiously until the bowl was brimming full. As the rainwater flooded in, the fish gradually stilled and settled.
After leaving the fish to absorb the spiritual energy for a full hour, I scooped it out with a net and set it down somewhere steady.