Luo Binghe

By the mansion's calendar, it has now been about six months since that first time Luo Binghe cooked for Shen Yuan. He had been terrified then, desperate to be with Shen Yuan but entirely unable to read what he was thinking. They barely knew each other—Luo Binghe had only just found out his beloved's name—but already, the glimpses he'd stolen of what was underneath Shen Yuan's easily-flustered façade had him frantic with the need to know more.

That intensity has barely dimmed. Now he knows Shen Yuan much better, between what Shen Yuan has told him, what Luo Binghe has guessed from his expressions, and what they've shared through dreams. Yet his greed remains ravenous. He needs to fill his eyes with Shen Yuan every day, to hear his words, to kiss him until they're both gasping for air. He needs to know what troubles him, what delights him, what Luo Binghe might do to keep him interested and affectionate. He has long split his obsessions between power, marriage and revenge. Now all his focus is narrowed to one target, like a beam of sunlight concentrated to a pinpoint hot enough to burn.

And now that Dark is over, he can once again channel some of that focus into cooking. Even though he cooks for Shen Yuan daily, he has put no less effort into this meal than that first one back in the month of Idas. Since they are celebrating the end of Dark, he has made longevity noodles with prawns. To accompany them is stir-fried amaranth greens with ginger and minced tofu, pork jiaozi with a black vinegar dipping sauce, fried mushooms, tea-pickled lotus root, and for dessert, almond jelly with slices of ripe persimmon. To the side, he places a jar of warmed green plum wine.