There is a saying that goes something along the lines of, ‘If you love someone, then you will also love the things associated with them’. Jiang Cheng, at the tender age of ten, did not think much of that saying until he walked into his room one day to find a porcelain bowl half-filled with (presumably already grown semi-cold) soup. The reddish-orange dates floating whilst half-submerged in a slim layer of oil along with simmered pork rib slices and herbs altogether created the image of a perfectly brewed bowl of soup. The seemingly perfect impression should be expected by now, he thought, since it was becoming a common occurrence by now. There was no one else in the sect but his dear sister who would go through the trouble to do this. Really, there was absolutely no reason for her to bestow upon him such a kind gesture so often, but he supposed that she was just the sort of sister who enjoys spoiling her baby sibling. Sometimes, Jiang Cheng only felt that it was way more than he deserved, especially considering Yan Li’s godsend cooking skills... Already shouldering such grump at this age, Jiang Cheng relieved himself through a loud, childish sigh, before proceeding to pick up the bowl and take a sip just enough an amount for the heat to not scald his cat tongue. The aroma tingled his senses, flavours bursting in every corner of the inside of his mouth. He'd recognised the flavours. The soup was a common recipe for many not just in his sect, but throughout the nation in general. It just so happened that Yan Li was exceptional at crafting the soup. You could ask the first person you see that's from his sect, and they would answer with nothing but praises if you were to inquire them of his older sister's lotus root soup. Many would probably consider no more than a special privilege, to be specifically brewed this by her. Jiang Cheng never thought much about it, personally, and it never occurred to him, not until now, but it was in this exact moment that he realised, all of a sudden, that there was something infinitely special about Yan Li's lotus root soup. It wasn't so much the recipe nor the food itself as it was the fact that it was something his dearest sister made for him. For as long as he could remember, Jiang Cheng had grown up on the lotus root soup. The first time he tasted it was when it was brewed by one of the disciples as part of a practice routine. He remembered that it tasted way too overwhelming — obviously, things were way overdone in the department of herbs. The second time he had it, was when his mother specifically brewed it herself. It was more of the norm to eyeball the ingredients, but, he learned, that his mother was surprisingly very specific with the amount of each ingredient needed to compose the soup. The ending result, was that of an aromatic soup that was even with its flavours, but, even then, it wasn't anywhere close to be comparable of Yan Li's interpretation of the dish. Thinking back on the first time his dearest sister brewed him the soup served as a good trigger for suppressed memories to come floating to the surface. It was over a scraped knee. Jiang Cheng hadn't watched carefully where he was walking, and ended up tripping on the pavement, friction drawing blood from a fresh wound. He was about three years old, soon to be approaching his fourth birthday. Yan Li, much like a superhero, had come to his rescue and provided medical attention. When she saw that his tears were still building at the corner of his eyes, she had left the room temporarily, only to come back minutes later with a small bowl of warm lotus root soup in her hands. Truth to be told, Jiang Cheng would not deem himself a big fan of the soup, as flavourful as it may be. There were other soups that tasted better, he thought... but, because it was something he subconsciously came to associate with his older sister over time (and he hadn't even realised until now), there was now something special about it that he couldn't let go. It didn't take long until the bowl in Jiang Cheng's hands was emptied, meat and vegetables included. He hadn't even realised he downed it all. A faint feeling of nostalgia caused an extraordinary type of warmth to surge in his chest. There is a saying that goes something along the lines of, <i>‘If you love someone, then you will also love the things associated with them’.<i> Jiang Cheng, at the tender age of ten, came to realise that, although it may not necessarily be entirely true, it was, for his case with the lotus root soup.
He pursed his lips, feeling heat rise to his cheeks at the thought.
He supposed, from here on, he’d never have a single time where he wouldn’t think of his sister whenever lotus root soup is involved.
Name: Maple Twitter: _mistymystery
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