Chapter 290 – Moonlake City (IV)

Chapter 290

Moonlake City (IV)

We all neatly sat around a rectangular table, marble-made from the looks of it, its rim garnished with traced, golden lilies. The table’s beauty, however, was secondary to the intensely drool-inspiring spread on the table–there was an entire roasted pig at the center, its skin a mirror-brown lacquer dusted with fragrant spices, still sighing a thin wisp of steam. It looked edible enough to be stolen from a painting.

On either of its ends were bowls of hot soup–one bowl brimmed with bright, shredded greens, silvered roots, and pearl-like grains of rice; the other held chunky braised meat swimming in a dark, savory broth that clung to the ladle when lifted. Further on, there was a variety of potatoes: there were mashed, roasted, and boiled, with a few small pots of what looked like sour cream sitting just beside them.

A low clay platter carried thin, rosy slices of lamb fanned around bones from which the meat seemed to fall on its own. On the opposite end of the table, a deep vegetable stew offered a kinder, greener note: thick pieces of carrot and pepper bobbed in a rich, herb-scented juice.

Cold plates lined the table edges: aged cheeses with oily rinds, soft creams, neat slices of cured salami and dried beef, and cups of goat milk whose tang permeated the air (I could smell that thing from anywhere). Beside them were steaming trays of rice–plain white and another studded with chopped herbs–pillowy dumplings, hand-pulled noodles that gleamed with a light sauce, and a scattering of unfamiliar dishes.

Drinks were as varied as the food: fragrant honey-lemon tea, small flagons of something that smelled suspiciously like beer, and tiny cups meant for communal toasting.

It was… heaven.

My hands involuntarily trembled, and though the kids dived in with beaming smiles, I hesitated.

Would it really be as good as it looked? Food here often looked good, only to taste dry or to be nigh unchewable. What if I dipped in and found out it was no better than what I’ve been eating all this while?

… or, worse yet, what if it tasted as good as it looked? Could I ever go back to eating tasteless porridge and chewing on rough meat or grass?

I swallowed, slowly taking a slice of the lamb meat from the tray and putting it over to my plate, my hands shaking. I scooped a spoonful of one or another kind of cream, grabbed a slice of bread, put it all together, brought it to my lips, and took a bite.

… hm.

Heaven.

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My grandma is smiling, gently rubbing the top of my head and telling me how special I am. Ah, there’s Grandpa, dropping casual racist remarks that nobody was comfortable enough to correct him on.

Everything was melting in my mouth, like it was ice cream.

“Master, are you alright? Why are you crying?” Dai Xiu’s voice woke me up from the dream, prompting me to realize there were tears streaming down my cheeks.