Chapter Six: Unintentionally Acting Aloof and Proud

As the pure white rice, wrapped with shreds of meat and sprinkled with scallions, entered Zhuang Xiaoyuan’s mouth, she felt the world around her shift violently.

The cramped army dormitory vanished, replaced by a vast, blinding white sea. It was an ocean made entirely of rice porridge, and Zhuang Xiaoyuan found herself soaring through it, gliding forward at an incredible speed. A colossal green serpent emerged from the porridge, its head just beneath her feet. With each undulation of its sinuous body, the serpent carried Zhuang Xiaoyuan swiftly ahead.

Suddenly, rain began to fall from the sky—yellow, white, and green droplets pattering onto the endless sea, dyeing the porridge with splashes of color. The rain fell onto her as well: the yellow tasted faintly bitter, the white was rich and fragrant, while the green imparted a fresh, herbal aroma to the ocean. Images of various ingredients flashed through her mind; she quickly identified the essence of the three-colored rain. The yellow was the bitterness of coptis root, the white the bouquet of rice wine, and the green the freshness of scallions.

The green serpent beneath her feet, the ocean of porridge, and the colorful rain formed the entirety of this strange new landscape—a tapestry of flavors, a dish prepared with heartfelt intention.

With a splash, Zhuang Xiaoyuan tumbled from the serpent’s head and plunged into the sea of porridge. At that moment, the serpent dissolved, transforming into tender shreds of meat that melted into the ocean around her. All the scenery blended together, tightly embracing Zhuang Xiaoyuan, just as Uncle Feng’s care had always enveloped her, and a profound sense of comfort washed over her. She sank deeper and deeper into the porridge, drifting far from the surface.

She opened her eyes lightly, a shimmer still lingering in their depths, her cheeks tinged with a rosy hue, and her cherry lips exhaled delicate clouds of white breath. The thick, savory aroma that had just filled her mouth drifted outward. Returning from her fantastical vision, she found the clay pot before her completely emptied—not a single grain of rice or drop of broth remained.

“How do you feel? Did your so-called ‘God’s Tongue’ really let you see the essence of this dish?” From Feng Guoqing’s perspective, he had only seen Zhuang Xiaoyuan—transformed now into an orange-haired girl—take a single bite of the rice porridge, then, with eyes closed and cheeks flushed in blissful enjoyment, devour every last bit, not even sparing a drop of soup. She’d eaten it all with her eyes closed—how she’d managed to find her mouth remained an unsolved mystery.

“Not bad, but to be honest, this dish… is completely unqualified.” Transformed into Erina Nakiri, Zhuang Xiaoyuan couldn’t help but be influenced by Erina’s personality. Though she was still Zhuang Xiaoyuan, with her own memories, certain habits and traits inevitably crept in from the persona she had assumed.

Faced with Feng Guoqing’s hopeful gaze, Zhuang Xiaoyuan averted her eyes, crossed her arms, and, without meeting his gaze, habitually delivered a merciless critique: “You didn’t add enough rice wine, so the fishy taste of the snake meat wasn’t fully removed. There’s too much coptis; the bitterness still lingers in my mouth, and it wasn’t necessary in the first place. You were heavy-handed with the scallions too—they nearly overwhelmed the natural aroma of the rice. And the porridge itself is a failure; the broth isn’t evenly absorbed, so the flavor varies completely from one spoonful to the next.”

She darted a glance at Feng Guoqing from the corner of her eye and, seeing that he wasn’t the least bit upset by her criticism but instead smiled as always, she pouted slightly, her cheeks flushing deeper as she continued, “But… well… the intent behind the cooking is very good. It’s warm. Let’s say you pass, then. Don’t get the wrong idea—it’s just the heart behind the dish that’s acceptable. The cooking itself is still a complete failure.” After all, both coptis and rice wine have detoxifying effects, and while Zhuang Xiaoyuan’s snake venom had been neutralized, one could never be too cautious.

“Yes, yes, my little gourmet. Next time, Uncle Feng will work even harder to improve his skills and strive to make something you’re truly satisfied with.” Feng Guoqing’s face softened with affection. He reached out to pat Zhuang Xiaoyuan’s head, then began to gather the bowls and chopsticks.

“Hmph. Ahem. Uncle Feng, let me do it myself.” With a soft huff, Zhuang Xiaoyuan made her displeasure known at being treated like a child, yet she also felt herself acting a bit childish. She coughed to mask her embarrassment, quickly picked up the chopsticks and pot before Feng Guoqing could, covered the pot, and carried everything away herself.

The influence of her transformation on her behavior and habits was relative. Because Zhuang Xiaoyuan’s own abilities were still weak, she was more susceptible to the personalities of those she transformed into at this stage. Now, as Erina Nakiri, she couldn’t help but pick up a bit of her sharp tongue and haughty, queenly demeanor. Still, because Erina wasn’t especially abnormal, the effects were minor—she would just display flashes of tsundere behavior from time to time.

If she transformed into a more powerful figure, the influence could be much stronger. For instance, if she became Tsunade from the world of Naruto, she might acquire an uncontrollable gambling habit—and always lose. If she became Saeko Busujima, she’d develop a thirst for blood, wanting to see blood blossom with every swing of her sword. And so on.

But as Zhuang Xiaoyuan’s own power grew, these influences would gradually weaken. Take Tsunade again: at her current “Devotion” level, the gambling compulsion would be strong and she’d always lose. At the “Prayer” level, perhaps nothing would change. But by the time she reached “Divine Descent,” the urge would be greatly diminished, and she might even start to win. At the “Divine Blessing” level, Tsunade’s traits would barely affect her at all.

Thus, the influence of transformation was always relative. As Zhuang Xiaoyuan grew stronger, the quirks of weaker personas ceased to affect her, and she might even absorb some positive traits—such as a character’s exceptional composure in crisis. Of course, if the persona was especially powerful, there would always be some lingering influence.

“Is your body all right now?” Seeing Zhuang Xiaoyuan clear the table herself, Feng Guoqing asked with concern. He knew the toxins had been neutralized, and the bowl of porridge had also helped detoxify her. Still, looking at Zhuang Xiaoyuan—who was like a daughter to him—he couldn’t help but worry.