The Second Guest

Chen Miemie returned to the shop and placed the six candles and the oil wax properly.

The oddities clinging to him manifested one by one.

Watching the crowded hall filled with oddities, the Forbidden Fruit Codex didn’t even flutter its wings, quietly landing in a corner to keep a low profile.

Even so, Cycle tracked it down and brought it to the couch.

“Is it still too late for me to leave now?” the Forbidden Fruit Codex asked weakly.

“What do you think? You’re just an avatar here. What are you afraid of?” Chen Miemie retorted.

“Given who you are, my main body would be useless no matter where it hides.” As a book oddity, the Forbidden Fruit Codex knew exactly who it was dealing with.

“Forbidden Fruit, snap out of it. I still like your old arrogant attitude better.”

Though the Forbidden Fruit Codex talked tough out of fear, it quickly adapted to the environment here.

It was an oddity itself, restricted within the city. As long as no one provocatively opened it, it was mostly harmless. Soon, it mingled easily with the other oddities in the room.

Time passed quickly as they sorted through the clues gathered today and planned the next steps.

Just as the group was discussing, “Should we have some grilled chicken for a late-night snack?” the sound of the door being pushed open came from the entrance.

The origami wind chimes jingled softly.

Instantly, Blue Flower slipped back into her porcelain vase, Spider leaped onto the ceiling, Pure Water merged into the fish tank, Dullard dropped onto the table and became a doll, and Roast Chicken lay flat on a plate, even reaching out one claw to pull over a lid and cover itself.

The Forbidden Fruit Codex was stunned by everyone’s reactions.

How could they be so practiced?

It didn’t have time to flee far, so it quickly floated over to Chen Miemie, dimmed its light, went silent, and camouflaged itself as an ordinary book.

Cycle stood near the entrance to greet the visitor.

“Welcome, new guest. Well, also an old friend.”

The arrival was the shop’s second customer, and indeed someone Chen Miemie knew well.

A voice—strange to them—called out: “Hello, is this Mr. Chen Miemie’s shop?”

“Yes, I am the shop assistant, Cycle.”

Cycle led Yi Xian to the couch opposite Chen Miemie, invited her to sit, and poured her tea.

As always, the Heartless Teapot never failed; the steaming tea exuded a delicate fragrance.

“Guest, state your purpose,” Chen Miemie said calmly.

“I learned how to get here from my brother. I heard this place can help fulfill wishes.”

Chen Miemie thought for a moment.

The operation guidelines only stated that the shopkeeper couldn’t tell others the method of arrival; they never forbade guests from spreading the word after leaving.

“Yi Xian, did your brother tell you that getting what you want here requires paying a corresponding price?”

“I know. May I ask what wish my brother made and what price he paid?”

“That is his secret alone. I won’t tell you.”

“Alright, then please don’t tell him I was here either.”

“That goes without saying.”

Yi Xian took a while to compose herself before stating her wish.

Chen Miemie initially thought she wanted him to solve her vision problems and was considering refusing—since he didn’t want to collect payment twice for the same matter, as her brother would have already paid the price. But he hadn’t expected Yi Xian’s request to be completely different from his assumption.

“I hope you can help my brother Yi Zhu regain his sense of sweet taste.”

Chen Miemie set down his teacup. “Tell me the specifics.”

Yi Xian organized her words: “My brother and I lost our mother when we were very young.

When we were little, my brother’s favorite dish was our mother’s braised spareribs.

He said that tender, sweet, and savory flavor was a unique, unparalleled delicacy in the world.

Driven by his love for delicious food, my brother’s exploration of mysticism branched into the culinary path.

He wanted to create dishes that made people intoxicated and happy.

His mystical schema took the form of giving his tongue super-taste. With that ability, he could replicate most of any dish he ate and learn many cooking techniques along the way.

From then on, although he was young, his culinary skills improved by leaps and bounds.

The turning point came the year our mother passed away.

We were 12 years old at the time, in school.

When he heard the news, he felt not only grief but also resentment. After that, although his sense of taste and ability remained, he could no longer perceive sweetness.”

Chen Miemie hit the nail on the head: “If your mother’s death caused your brother grief, what did he resent?”

“I don’t know if resentment is the right word—perhaps not that strong, or maybe even stronger. As kids, we didn’t understand much. In truth, our mother’s health had always been poor; she was bedridden for a long time.

Besides the four of us, there was a maidservant who had been taking care of our mother for years.

After our mother died, our father quickly married that maidservant.

My brother said our father had been tolerating our mother all along and had already been having an affair with the maidservant. He even suspected whether our mother’s death was natural.

He said even if she wasn’t killed, she was at least angered to death by our father and that woman.

That’s where the resentment came from. Afterward, my brother started boarding at school, seldom came home, and simultaneously lost his ability to taste sweetness.”

“The cause and effect are plausible. Then do you know the exact time Yi Zhu lost his sense of sweet taste? The more precise, the better.”

“I remember that. On the day our mother died, we had lunch at home. He ate his favorite sweet-and-sour spareribs—that was the last time he tasted sweetness.”

“Based on what you’ve said, this sounds like a psychological issue. Could he have developed a mental block due to resentment or longing for your mother, causing him to shut off his perception of sweetness?”

“That’s possible.”

“When I met you and Yi Zhu yesterday, he didn’t seem to show any signs of this problem. Doesn’t he care about it himself?”

“How could he not care? His pursuit of cooking surpasses even his exploration of mysticism. He just doesn’t like talking about his own matters.”

“Alright, I understand the situation. I accept your request. Now, let’s discuss the price you’ll have to pay.”

Cycle escorted Yi Xian out.

Chen Miemie leaned back on the couch.

Blue Flower stepped out of her porcelain vase: “Miemie, do you have any leads?”

Chen Miemie shook his head slightly.

“Psychological problems are harder to handle than mystical ones. Given the current information, Yi Xian’s account includes quite a few speculative conclusions.”

Cycle had returned as well: “That’s right. There’s one obvious issue—if Yi Zhu resented his father and stepmother so much, why didn’t he seek revenge?”

The Forbidden Fruit Codex lit up again: “Who says he didn’t? Maybe he did retaliate, and Yi Xian just didn’t mention it. After all, some family scandals aren’t meant to be aired out.”

Listening to the discussion, Chen Miemie was deep in thought.

“I have a feeling that those braised spareribs might hold the key.”