In the dimly lit room, a man sat quietly before the stove. A fragrant aroma wafted from a small pot, catching Lily Eastwood's attention as she stood at the doorway.
Sam's soft breathing startled him, and he turned to see the girl who had arrived so late at night. Petite, with a delicate and pretty face, Lily had a slightly chubby appearance and a divine fire mark etched between her eyebrows. Her long eyelashes fluttered slightly with her breath, exuding an endearing presence. However, Sam knew Lily well. Despite her cute appearance, she was a playful little mischief-maker, with a penchant for pranking others.
At Foxfire Mountain Lodge, nearly every disciple had been on the receiving end of her pranks. Of course, Lily's pranks were mostly harmless—like stealing chopsticks while someone ate, or moving a stool before someone sat down. Adorable, delicate, and beautiful, as the Second Miss of the lodge, no one minded her playful antics. This gave her a certain willfulness.
"Lily, why are you here?" Sam asked, surprised. In this world, etiquette was important, and a woman visiting a man's house late at night could lead to gossip. Although Lily was young, she could become the subject of controversy.
Hearing Sam's words and seeing his gaze, Lily felt a sense of panic and turned her head. Realizing this wasn't proper behavior, she quickly raised her chin, revealing her swan-like neck, and walked in with her hands behind her back.
"What? I can't come?" she said defiantly.
Sam smiled but didn't answer.
"Do I need to report my presence to you, a fool?" Lily continued with disdain.
Sam, familiar with her antics, didn't mind. He simply lowered his head and watched the fire on the stove. Seeing him ignore her, Lily puffed out her cheeks, annoyed. This fool, she thought, didn't know how to please her, even though she possessed the powerful Demon-Slaying Divine Fire.
"What a fool," she muttered inwardly, contemplating how to gracefully reject his earlier confession without hurting him too much.
The room fell silent as she mulled over her thoughts. Just as Lily struggled to find the right words, Sam turned to her. His sudden movement made her instinctively puff out her chest.
"I'm so sorry!" Sam began. "I'm sorry about what happened this morning. I didn't think much and just said something thoughtless."
Lily was taken aback. Before she could even think of how to reject him, he began explaining. But his explanation seemed far-fetched.
"No matter how thoughtless you are, you wouldn't say something like that. You're probably explaining because you're afraid of getting me angry. There's nothing wrong with liking someone, so why would you be angry?" she thought, her cheeks puffing up again.
"Please don't take it to heart, Lily..." Sam muttered.
"I don't take it to heart," Lily interrupted him harshly. There were so many who liked her; why would she? "Don't ever say such things to anyone again. No one's as easy to talk to as I am. Be careful, or they'll break your legs." She placed her hands on her hips, looking adorably grown-up.
"Got it," Sam nodded. He knew Lily's strong-willed nature well. Arguing would only encourage her to nag him all day long. "I won't say such things to anyone again," he said softly, uncovering the small pot on the stove. Steam rose, carrying the faint aroma of rice.
Lily sniffed instinctively, her eyes narrowing as she gazed at the steaming pot. Inside was pure white steamed rice, a staple at Foxfire Mountain Lodge. But what caught her attention was a small porcelain bowl placed in the center of the rice, emitting a unique, warm, and alluring aroma.
It was a golden substance, neither completely liquid nor solid, with a perfect texture. Its surface was smooth, mirror-like, flawless, and delicate, resembling the light mist over a dawn lake, as soft and smooth as a baby's skin. She had never seen anything like it before.
"What is this?" Lily asked, her face brimming with curiosity.
"It's an egg," Sam replied nonchalantly.
Lily's mouth opened in disbelief. In her memory, eggs didn't look like this. She'd eaten boiled and scrambled eggs but never seen them like this.
"Is this really an egg?" she asked, reaching out her delicate hand to poke the bowl. The heat made her quickly withdraw her hand, staring at it in disbelief. The surprising springiness was evident from just a touch.
Almost unconsciously, she brought her finger to her lips, the faint aroma of egg flooding her taste buds. As a foodie, nothing was more important than eating, and even a little taste was enough to discern ingredients.
"This...this really is an egg!" she exclaimed, her face filled with disbelief.
Sam, surprised by her exaggerated reaction, understood after a moment. He'd never seen anyone make steamed eggs in this world; people either boiled or scrambled them.
"It's steamed eggs, another way to prepare them," Sam explained softly.
At that moment, Lily seemed oblivious, her large eyes fixed on the steamed egg. Her delicate face brimmed with longing, as if the world had narrowed to just this bowl of steamed eggs.
Seeing her like this, Sam remembered she was also a foodie. "How about trying some, Miss Lily?" he offered.
"Okay, okay," she nodded frantically, like a chicken pecking at rice.
Watching her, Sam sighed helplessly.