Chapter 5: Dumpling Soup

A gust of wind blew in, and the door slammed shut with a bang. The room grew even darker.

A faint light filtered through the window. Pei Yuan stood with his back to the light, his facial features blurred as if covered by a shadow. He was tall and well-built, a person who had practiced martial arts for years. His broad shoulders filled the small room, making him look like a wall standing there, exuding a chilling, fierce aura.

Bao Ning stood awkwardly by the door, her eyes unsure where to look, her fingers nervously picking at the vegetable basin in her hands.

For a moment, Pei Yuan really did seem to have murderous intent—Bao Ning could feel it.

The room was extremely quiet, only the sound of Pei Yuan’s heavy breaths could be heard, one after another.

It was not true that she wasn’t afraid. Bao Ning’s heart pounded rapidly, and it took her a long time to calm down before she hurriedly pushed the door and walked out. The cold wind blew past, making Bao Ning shiver. Only then did she realize her palms were covered in sweat.

…

The side of himself that he could least bear to show was seen by a woman who could be called a stranger. Pei Yuan closed his eyes briefly and swallowed thickly.

That woman must think he’s disgusting, right?

Pei Yuan knew exactly how he looked now—dirty and unkempt, smelling unpleasant, more repulsive than a beggar on the street. At least beggars were healthy and had legs that could walk, but his whole body was covered with wounds, scars unknown, his disabled left leg weak and repulsive, a complete useless person who could barely take care of himself.

He had long since persuaded himself not to care about others’ opinions, but when faced with such a situation, he couldn’t help but think wildly. He hated being looked at with disdain, and he feared sympathy and pity even more. That feeling of self-respect being trampled into the mud was more painful and unbearable than blades cutting his flesh.

The wooden stick had barbs that pierced his palm painfully, but Pei Yuan seemed not to feel it, dragging his left leg dully as he left.

Passing by Bao Ning, he didn’t even glance at her, walking straight back to his room.

Bao Ning’s eyelashes trembled, and she sighed, hugging

the cabbage as she went into the kitchen. Lighting the fire, boiling water, scrubbing the pot, preparing the batter… Geda soup ¹ Chinese tomato and egg dough drop soup was the simplest noodle dish, requiring only a basin of flour and a ladle of water.

Bao Ning pinched the ladle and sprinkled the water bit by bit onto the flour, stirring continuously with chopsticks. Soon, the dough formed into evenly sized lumps, distinct and clear.

The fire under the stove blazed a bit stronger, with red flames licking upward, filling the room with some warmth.

Bao Ning poured some oil into the pan, and once it was hot, she added freshly chopped scallions. The aroma of fried scallions instantly filled the air. Then she tossed in the cabbage, stirred it a few times with a spatula, added enough water to cover it, and seasoned with salt and cooking wine. She covered the pot and waited for the water to boil.

After a while, it was completely dark outside. Bao Ning groped around to light a candle and sat on a stool, staring blankly at the pot lid. Steam rose steadily from the gap under the lid, carrying the unique aroma of food. The room remained small and cramped but was now filled with a warm, homely atmosphere.

It suddenly felt very much like home.

Bao Ning thought of Pei Yuan.

He really frightened her just now. Pei Yuan hated her and wanted to drive her away—Bao Ning could feel it, and she understood it without taking offense. It might seem abrupt to say, but from the moment she married Pei Yuan, she regarded him as family.

They had no affection, but in name, they were husband and wife. Even if they never loved each other like ordinary couples, they were still family—more caring and connected than strangers.

Pei Yuan had a bad temper. He was at a low point in life, sensitive and fragile, prone to hurting others with his words. Bao Ning could forgive that. All she could do was treat him a little better, give him warmth and encouragement, and accompany him to climb out of the dark.

In the days to come, they could happily live together, tending flowers and drinking tea, being companions. That was the life she looked forward to.

…

The pot bubbled and boiled; the water was ready.

Bao Ning slapped her cheeks twice to stop her wandering thoughts and hurried to lift the lid. She used chopsticks to put the prepared dough lumps into the pot, stirring to separate them so they wouldn’t stick together. Then she thought for a moment and got two eggs, beating them before pouring into the pot, making an egg-drop soup.

With Pei Yuan’s current body, he needed to eat more nourishing food, but unfortunately, the eggs and meat she had brought were limited—enough for only two or three days.

Bao Ning pinned her hopes on the return visit three days later. She could use the opportunity to buy more vegetables and some medicine from the market.

After cooking a little longer, the soup was ready. The small dough lumps floated scattered in the broth. The cabbage lay soft and tender between the noodles, like a delicate beauty without bones. The soup was thick and fragrant, making one’s mouth water. Bao Ning leaned in to smell it. Her skills hadn’t declined. She smiled with a slight curve of her eyes.

She took a bigger bowl and filled it full, then brought it to Pei Yuan.

Thinking that Pei Yuan hadn’t eaten a warm meal all day, Bao Ning put down the bowl again, heated more oil, and fried an egg to place on top of the soup.

Standing by Pei Yuan’s door with the bowl in hand, Bao Ning hesitated for a moment. She recalled Pei Yuan’s terrifying expression just now, her heart pounding wildly.

Taking a deep breath, Bao Ning carefully knocked twice: “Fourth Prince, may I come in?”

There was silence inside for a moment. Pei Yuan’s hoarse voice said: “Come in.”

Bao Ning breathed out and pushed the door open. The room was very dark. Pei Yuan sat leaning against the wall. In front of him was a small kang table with calligraphy supplies—brush, ink, paper, and inkstone—all set out. A small candle was lit, the faint light the only brightness in the room.

Pei Yuan lowered his head, seemingly writing something.

Bao Ning placed the bowl on Pei Yuan’s table, not looking at his paper, softly said, “Fourth Prince, it’s time to eat.”

Pei Yuan glanced at the soup before him, surprise flashing in his eyes. He had already smelled the cooking from the west wing but hadn’t expected Bao Ning to bring food to him. With his earlier harsh attitude, he thought Bao Ning would resent him. Even if not resentment, at least disgust, just like Cuifu, who was first sent to serve him.

Thinking this, Pei Yuan raised his head and looked at Bao Ning. She wore a light blue common dress, her makeup untouched, delicate and pretty, but still youthful, biting her nails with downcast eyes.

Bao Ning’s fingers were burned by the bowl; they hurt sharply. She instinctively put her fingers into her mouth, then noticed Pei Yuan looking at her.

Feeling embarrassed, Bao Ning quickly put her hand down and turned to leave: “Fourth Prince, please eat slowly, I’ll go now…”

Pei Yuan said, “Let’s talk.”

Bao Ning stopped in her tracks, looking at Pei Yuan’s indifferent expression, feeling strange inside. She didn’t know what he wanted to say, but her intuition told her it wasn’t good.

Bao Ning said, “Okay.”

Pei Yuan put down his brush, rested his wrist on the edge of the table, expressionless, and looked at her:

“Were you forced to marry me?”

Bao Ning was stunned for a moment, thought it over, and shook her head.

It was indeed a coincidental opportunity, but in her heart, she felt no resentment—she was not forced.

Pei Yuan frowned, suspiciously asking, “You’re willing?”

Bao Ning nodded.

Pei Yuan’s mouth twitched, saying, “Ridiculous.”

Bao Ning was speechless.

“How old are you?”

Bao Ning replied, “Fifteen.” Actually, she wasn’t quite fifteen yet—just a month shy of coming of age—but the marriage was hurried, so she concealed her real age. However, such small details seemed unnecessary to explain to Pei Yuan.

Pei Yuan sneered coldly, “Naive.”

His fingers tapped on the table, a trace of sarcasm flashing in his eyes, then he said, “Do you know what marrying me means? Let me be clear—I have nothing you can use. The title ‘Prince’ is just an empty shell. If you think you can use me to climb up, better forget it. I’ve already written the divorce papers. Given your status as the daughter of the Rongguo Duke, remarriage isn’t difficult. You can go wherever you want, as soon as tomorrow morning. Just don’t bother me here!”

After speaking, Pei Yuan pulled out a piece of paper hidden under the inkstone and threw it in front of Bao Ning, squinting, “Get out.”

Bao Ning lowered her eyes and didn’t take it. She flicked her skirt softly and quietly said, “You eat first, or it will get cold,” then left.

Pei Yuan had imagined many possible reactions—perhaps ecstatic joy, or pretending to shed a few tears while pleading to save face before leaving, or storming off in anger.

But he never expected Bao Ning to act as if nothing had happened, simply saying lightly “eat first” with no tears, no smiles, as if it was none of her business.

The bowl of noodle dumpling soup emitted a fragrant aroma. Even though his heart was still chaotic, his hungry stomach was drawn out.

Pei Yuan couldn’t resist, picked up the bowl, took a bite of the fried egg, and drank a spoonful of soup.

Unexpectedly delicious.

It was clear she had cooked with care, even considering his health and appetite.

This long-lost tender care stirred an unusual feeling in Pei Yuan’s heart. He looked at the bowl with complicated eyes but quickly pushed that feeling aside.

If this care was destined to disappear sooner or later, he wouldn’t want it from the start—to avoid the painful difficulty of letting go in the end.

Pei Yuan quickly finished the soup, tidied up the bedding, blew out the lamp, and lay down.

…

Bao Ning finished eating, cleaned the stove, tidied up the room, and sat by the kang, lost in thought.

Pei Yuan’s attitude made her feel a little sad and discouraged.

She could persuade herself to forgive him and not take it to heart, but still, it hurt.

She blinked, encouraging herself: she was living in someone else’s yard, drinking their water—how could she be so bothered by a few words? Besides, it was thanks to Pei Yuan’s influence that she got out of the Duke’s mansion. Compared to Ji Jiaying’s secret schemes and the Duke’s wife’s passive-aggressive attitude, Pei Yuan’s straightforward nature wasn’t so bad.

Thinking this, the sour sting in her heart lessened a lot.

There was little here except plenty of firewood—no stinginess when making fire, and the kang was always warm and cozy, very comfortable.

Bao Ning blew out the candle, crawled under the quilt, and yawned. After a tiring day, she was also exhausted. As her head touched the pillow, she quickly fell asleep.

The next morning, Bao Ning woke early, feeling energetic. She washed up, prepared breakfast, and went to knock on Pei Yuan’s door.

Pei Yuan was already awake, leaning against the wall reading a book. Hearing the knock, he was somewhat surprised, “Come in.”

Bao Ning opened the door, revealing her little face.

Without makeup, her skin was white and translucent, smooth as egg whites. Her dimples looked soft and sweet.

Pei Yuan stared, stunned.

Bao Ning smiled brightly and asked, “Fourth Prince, I made some buns and boiled hot water. After you eat, would you like to take a bath?”

Author’s note: Welcome to the large-scale costume romance educational series — How to Gently Tame a Jerk, part three.

Don’t be fooled by the male lead’s cold and tsundere attitude now—later, he’ll be the one washing feet 🙂

Sansukini: Hail to the girl who always see the bright side of things.