The Silence And The Song

The Battle Of Stove

Chapter 7: The Battle of the Stove

The Jingshi contained a small, immaculate annex for preparing simple meals and herbal remedies, though it was rarely used, as the Lan clan kitchen provided everything precisely on schedule. One afternoon, Wei Wuxian decided to remedy this neglect.

Lan Wangji entered the annex after returning from a teaching session, anticipating the quiet peace of his home. Instead, he was assaulted by a thick, aggressive cloud of crimson smoke, and a smell that brought tears instantly to his eyes.

Wei Wuxian, wielding a ladle like a weapon, was bent over a steaming wok, completely oblivious to the chaos surrounding him. He was humming a happy tune, stirring vigorously.

“Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji exclaimed, his voice sharp with alarm. He rushed forward, waving his sleeve to clear the air, coughing slightly—a sound Wei Wuxian had never heard him make.

Wei Wuxian looked up, his face smeared with soot and something suspiciously red. “Lan Zhan! You’re back! Perfect timing! I made us dinner! Do you know how hard it is to get proper chili oil in Gusu? I had to improvise!”

Lan Wangji looked at the wok. Inside, the ingredients—which he could only vaguely recognize as vegetables—were submerged in a bubbling, magma-like stew that was aggressively crimson, flecked with what appeared to be dozens of dried peppers. It was an outright affront to the Lan dietary rule of bland, pure foods.

“What is this?” Lan Wangji asked, the question laced with horrified disbelief.

“It’s Spicy Lotus Root and Pork Rib Soup!” Wei Wuxian announced proudly. “But, you know, my version. With extra fire. It’s comforting! Try it!”

He lifted the ladle, intent on offering a taste. Lan Wangji recoiled slightly, taking a controlled step back.

“The Gusu rules strictly forbid spicy foods,” Lan Wangji stated, his voice now flat, the sound of disappointment heavier than anger. “This is a hazard, Wei Ying. It will disrupt spiritual stability.”

Wei Wuxian’s proud expression crumpled instantly. He set the ladle down with a clatter.

“You won’t even try it?” he challenged, the disappointment echoing in his own tone. “It’s my flavor, Lan Zhan. My home. You always say you want to know me fully, but you won’t even taste the spice that makes me me.”

“I know you fully,” Lan Wangji replied, his golden eyes sad as he gestured around the kitchen. The walls were dotted with red splashes, and the immaculate white cabinets were stained. “But this is not simply flavor, Wei Ying. This is an unnecessary destruction of discipline and order.”

Wei Wuxian felt a pang of guilt, recognizing the depth of the transgression. It wasn’t just a broken rule; it was a violation of the safe, ordered space Lan Wangji treasured.

“I only wanted to make something for us,” Wei Wuxian muttered, turning away, the earlier giddiness gone.

Lan Wangji watched him, the sight of his usually cheerful husband looking defeated and small breaking through his strict composure. He walked over to Wei Wuxian and placed a hand gently on his soot-stained shoulder.

“I know, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said softly. “You wanted to share your joy.”

He paused, then sighed, a sound of deep resignation. He looked at the bubbling, dangerous wok and then back at Wei Wuxian.

“I cannot eat this dish,” Lan Wangji admitted. “But I will watch you eat it.”

Wei Wuxian turned back, his eyes wide with surprise. “You will sit with me? While I eat Spicy Lotus Root?”

“I will sit with you,” Lan Wangji confirmed. “And I will clean the annex later. Do not worry about the mess. But next time, if you wish to prepare a meal, we will make a clean compromise.”

“A compromise?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji said, a tiny hint of amusement returning. “We will make a bland dish, perfectly prepared. And then, you may add your spices only to your own bowl.”

Wei Wuxian burst out laughing, the tension instantly dissolving. He threw his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck, hugging him fiercely, smearing a fresh streak of red onto the back of the pristine white robe.

“You are truly learning the art of love, Lan Zhan! Compromise and shared meals!” Wei Wuxian pulled back, his eyes alight with newfound warmth. “Now, sit down. My stomach is growling. I want to show you exactly what makes this simple spice taste like home.”

Lan Wangji allowed the soot-stained hug to last a moment longer than necessary. He sat with perfect stillness at the small table, watching as Wei Wuxian greedily devoured the infernal soup, relishing the smoke and the fire. Lan Wangji sat there, breathing in the scent of chaos, his own bowl empty, and realized that simply sharing the space with Wei Wuxian made the messy, rule-breaking meal the most perfectly ordered moment of his day.