Empress (A Tickle Commission)

Intimate Feast

Meiling had elected to use her own ingredients for dinner. She had pulled and cleaned fresh cabbage, leeks, and turnips from her own small farm shortly after returning home. Meiling also managed to wrangle a wayward chicken from the side of the road. Lee was quick to volunteer to prepare the vegetables while she stayed far away from the preparation of the meat. Cooking seemed to help clear her mind. She stood over a searing pot of rice and steamed vegetables, staring down into the sizzling mixture. Such a skill had never been a responsibility of hers back at the palace, but her time living with Meiling introduced her to a passion for the craft. Something about it seemed so primitive and simple, yet beautifully intricate in creating a piece with which to share and nourish those around her, enriching the lives of others while exploring her own artisan skills. 

Despite engaging in the recipe for the evening’s meal, Lee’s thoughts were with the people of Beling and the image of the ruins left behind. She knew there would be little time left before Fu Jie returned to claim his bride. Lee knew she would have to come clean about who she is to Meiling and leave her side. The longer she waited, the heavier it weighed on her mind. She pictured her mother and father finding out that she left, worrying about where she’s been, perhaps even getting Sima Yi in trouble for helping her escape. Lee knew the break from her life was nearing an end and could only hope for as peaceful a conclusion as possible. 

Meiling entered through the back door, carrying a pan of chicken, fully cooked and roasted. Lee looked up at her. She could tell heavy thoughts weighed on her as well, though in such domestic adoration of helping to prepare dinner, not cooking for her out of some dutiful obligation but tending to her needs out of genuine compassion, Lee could not help but fear of losing her, fear of losing the one she had come to admire and adore more than anyone else.

“See that?” Meiling said, sitting the pan down. “Everything’s done and over with.” She turned and smiled. “I… don’t like doing it either, but I roast a decent bird.” Lee smiled sweetly, her mind still absently swirling between a hopeful swoon and inevitable despair.

“I bet,” she said, softly. Lee had cleaned herself up upon returning home, donning a casual pink silk robe in which to do the meal preparation. Meiling kept her tunic from the day on, though when she bared her feet upon entering through the back, the sight of them caught Lee’s eyes. A dreary silence came over both her and Meiling, each still coping with what they had seen back in town, but Lee’s attention was quickly being pulled elsewhere. She swallowed nervously. Meiling began dishing up the chicken and rice, noticing Lee’s thoughtful stillness as well as her slight glances down to her feet. She smirked a little. 

“Come on,” Meiling said. With two porcelain bowls in hand, she brought them to their dining table as Lee carried in a small tea kettle and cups. The room had been lit with candles. Meiling had the incense burning that Lee seemed to like the most, a scent mix of water lily and fresh cinnamon. The walls glowed with a warm light against the backdrop of a setting sun. Meiling set their bowls of chicken and rice down, propping up their chopsticks across the rims. Lee sat down the teapot and cups, pouring for each. As Meiling sat on the floor, Lee caught a glimpse at her feet. Bared and as pale as milk, her feet were still so beautiful to Lee, as much so as the rest of Meiling. They were strong in their size and in what Lee knew they were capable of through Meiling’s agility and martial arts training, yet still modest and pure, soft and delicate. Lee smiled warmly at sneaking a peek.

“Thank you for cooking,” said Lee, looking down at her bowl. Meiling lifted her chopsticks. 

“You did just as much as I did,” she pointed out. “Thank you for cooking, Lee.” Meiling smiled back at her. Lee noticed something off about it, as if it were forced or disingenuine. She felt the presence of the cloud hanging over her mind and imagined it hanging over Meiling’s as well. She could only hope that her own depressed demeanor had not been the cause.