Re-birth: The Beginning after the End-Chapter 201: BATTLE OF TASTE

Li Hua's gaze lifted to meet Mo Xing's across the table, and in that moment, Little Firefly's words resonated within her own consciousness. This tableau—the four of them gathered in quiet communion—carried an echo of something inevitable.

The realization settled over her with the weight of certainty: this expedition to the Forbidden Zone would alter more than her understanding of this world or her place in it. It would unravel everything she thought she knew about herself, about the path that had led her here, about the man whose presence in her life seemed simultaneously intrusive and essential.

As their spirit beasts continued their quiet exchange, Li Hua felt something shift within the foundations of her carefully constructed world—not crumbling, but realigning into a pattern that felt both utterly new and strangely, profoundly familiar.

"YOU DON'T LIKE SPIRIT-INFUSED PASTRIES?!" Little Firefly's sudden outburst shattered the profound atmosphere, his golden form flaring with such dramatic shock that he nearly doubled in size. He spiraled upward in theatrical despair, leaving a trail of sparkles that rained down on the table. "Next you'll tell me you don't enjoy breathing or existing! INCONCEIVABLE!"

Mian Mian recoiled so violently she nearly somersaulted backward, obsidian wings covering her head like an avian umbrella against Little Firefly's sparkle shower. After regaining her composure with three precise wing flicks, her feathers ruffled outward until she resembled an affronted porcupine more than a bird. "NOT EVERYONE WORSHIPS AT THE ALTAR OF SUGAR!" she shot back with equal intensity, ruby eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. "Some of us have SOPHISTICATED PALATES!"

The obsidian bird settled her feathers with dignified precision, ruby eyes narrowing as her voice dropped to a more measured tone. "Besides," she added with an air of sophisticated reasoning, "I prefer salty treats. Spirit-cured meats, specifically. The textures are far superior."

The abrupt shift from philosophical contemplation of existence to passionate culinary debate left Li Hua momentarily stunned. She glanced at Mo Xing, who appeared to be fighting a losing battle against a smile that threatened to transform his usually composed features.

"Master! Master!" Little Firefly chirped excitedly, his form darting from the table to press against Li Hua's wrist with surprising urgency. "You must share your spirit-infused honey cakes! There's no possible way she could resist them once she tastes the crystallized nectar center! Even the most dedicated salt-lover would be converted!"

In the same moment that Little Firefly appealed to Li Hua, Mian Mian fluttered urgently to Mo Xing's shoulder, her obsidian wings beating with surprising intensity. "Master! The spirit-cured meats! Bring them out immediately!" Her ruby eyes gleamed with competitive determination. "He must experience true culinary perfection!"

Li Hua's eyes met Mo Xing's across the table, and something in the absurdity of the moment—these two spirit beasts engaged in passionate food rivalry after their profound existential conversation—broke through her usual reserve. She laughed, the sound genuine and unguarded, perhaps the first truly unrestrained expression of joy she had allowed herself in his presence.

Mo Xing's own laughter joined hers, deep and resonant, creating a harmony that seemed to brighten the pavilion.

"I guess," Li Hua said, her eyes still holding traces of rare warmth, "it is time to eat." She pulled out a few bamboo baskets from her pocket space. "Though I warn you, Little Firefly's enthusiasm for these honey cakes is not exaggerated."

Mo Xing's golden eyes gleamed with challenge as he produced a small jade box from his own storage space. "Neither is Mian Mian's appreciation for these spirit-cured meats." His voice dropped to a mock whisper. "I've seen immortals trade precious artifacts for less."

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They arranged the impromptu feast between them, their spirit beasts hovered expectantly above the offerings.

Li Hua arranged her honey cakes on a small ceramic plate—delicate spirals of golden pastry infused with essence of sweet nectar, each one crowned with a crystallized drop that caught the light like amber. Their aroma filled the pavilion, subtle yet enticing, carrying notes of summer flowers and morning dew.

Mo Xing selected one with deliberate care, examining its craftsmanship before taking a bite. His usual mask of casual indifference slipped for just a moment as the flavors registered—eyes widening slightly, a small intake of breath that might have gone unnoticed by anyone who hadn't spent days studying his every expression.

"These are..." he paused, searching for words, the uncharacteristic hesitation revealing more than any elaborate praise could have. "Extraordinary." He finished the pastry in a second. "It's perfectly balanced with the flavor. Did you make these?"

Li Hua nodded, unexpected warmth spreading through her at his genuine appreciation. "An old recipe I remembered," she explained. "Though I've modified it to incorporate spiritual essence and honey."

Something in his expression—that rare, unguarded enjoyment—sparked a sudden desire to see more of his authentic reactions. From her storage ring, Li Hua retrieved several bamboo containers. She hadn't planned to share these—personal meals prepared during quiet moments between training sessions, dishes that connected her to her previous life's memories despite their adaptation to this world's ingredients.

"I have a few other things you might enjoy," she said, arranging the containers on the table between them. Each one released a different aroma as she lifted the lids—spicy stir-fried rice, spirit vegetable stew, delicate dumplings filled with mountain herbs and quail.

Mo Xing's golden eyes reflected genuine surprise. "You've been hiding quite the culinary arsenal, Little Tempest." His gaze moved from the food to her face, studying her with renewed interest. "Traditional cooking is considered..." he searched for the right word, "unnecessary."

"Food is more than sustenance," Li Hua replied, watching as he sampled the dumplings with evident appreciation. "Properly prepared, it nourishes both body and spirit. Besides," a small smile curved her lips, "some habits are hard to break."

"And some habits are worth preserving," Mo Xing responded, his voice carrying a depth that suggested he understood more about her statement than she'd intended to reveal. He selected a piece of spirit-cured meat from his own collection, offering it to her between elegant fingers. "Try this. It pairs surprisingly well with your dumplings."

As Li Hua accepted the offering, their fingertips brushed briefly. The contact sent a subtle current of spiritual essence between them—not intrusive or controlling, but resonant, as if their energies recognized each other on a fundamental level.

"The temperature's perfect," Mo Xing observed, sampling another dumpling.

Their spirit beasts feasted alongside them, Mian Mian begrudgingly admitting that the honey cakes were "acceptable," while Little Firefly declared the spirit-cured meats "interesting, though they would benefit from a sweet glaze."

As the night deepened around their pavilion, the four of them settled into a comfortable rhythm of sharing and conversation. The profound mysteries of their connection remained unresolved, yet somehow less urgent in the warm glow of this simple, shared pleasure.

Li Hua found herself studying Mo Xing's expressions as he savored each dish, cataloging the subtle changes—the slight narrowing of his eyes when encountering an unexpected flavor, the almost imperceptible nod of appreciation at perfectly balanced spices. For the first time since his appearance in her life, she found herself deliberately trying to please him, to elicit more of those rare, genuine reactions.