Chapter 294: Cooking

Chapter 294 Cooking

Jiang Qi was pulled back three steps, away from the stove. The heavy clouds in his mind dissipated as he suddenly came to his senses, reverting to his usual obedient manner. Lowering his gaze, he said, "Sorry, sir. I spaced out for a second. Please give me another chance."

"Stop calling me 'sir,'" Ye Wang coughed twice from the smoke, turning off the flame and rescuing the pan. "Are you trying to burn us both alive? Back up—you’ll get hit by oil."

Jiang Qi retreated another two steps but responded to his earlier remark, "...Sorry, *sir*."

Ye Wang: "..."

The commander got goosebumps.

Ye Wang had intended to mess with Jiang Qi, hoping to provoke some frustration or irritation by repeatedly calling him "wife" in an over-the-top teasing tone. He hadn’t actually meant to become the "Star of the Empire’s" *sir*. Yet Jiang Qi accepted it with creepy calmness, addressing him as "sir" as naturally as he would a superior officer—as if Ye Wang were inherently meant to be his "sir." There was no room for protest.

The commander broke out in goosebumps. Coughing twice to mask his discomfort, he preemptively jumped to deflect blame. "...If you didn’t know how to use it, you could’ve just told me. Who forced you? The whole place almost went up in flames! Forget it—go sit at the table. I’ll handle it."

Ye Wang usually ate fitness meals and wasn’t much of a cook, but he could manage basic home-style dishes.

Jiang Qi obediently walked to the dining area, moving like a robot following commands. "Understood, sir."

He sat in the chair and didn’t move again.

Ye Wang: "..."

The commander felt weirded out, as if something was fundamentally *off*. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Ye Wang opened the fridge. "What do you want to eat?"

Jiang Qi: "Anything is fine, sir."

Ye Wang: "."

Defeated, he relented. "Stir-fried pork with peppers? And maybe sugar-coated tomatoes?"

These were among the few dishes Ye Wang could reliably make without disaster.

Jiang Qi naturally had no objections.

The sugar-coated tomatoes were quick, but the stir-fry required some time. Ye Wang scowled at the sizzling peppers in the pan, baffled at how things had turned out this way.

He’d come here to mess with someone, yet here he was—the Federation commander, dressed in Imperial formalwear, wielding a spatula by the stove—while his mortal enemy, the "Star of the Empire" Jiang Qi, sat peacefully at the table in an apron.

This wasn’t right. *None* of this was right.

A strange feeling gnawed at Ye Wang. With a final flick of the spatula, he scooped the oil-drenched peppers onto a porcelain plate and unceremoniously slammed it in front of Jiang Qi. "Make do with this."

Ye Wang’s cooking skills were, frankly, absolute trash—some parts stuck to the pan, others were slightly burnt. Jiang Qi picked up a slice of meat but didn’t eat it immediately, just staring at it.

Ye Wang snorted. "Don’t like it? Tough. This is as good as I get. If you don’t like it, make your own."

He wasn’t being sarcastic. Ye Wang knew his cooking was subpar. When subordinates hesitated during field missions where they took turns cooking, he’d say the same thing.

The "Star of the Empire" was a golden boy, after all. It made sense if his tastes were picky.

Jiang Qi paused, then ate the meat along with the peppers before replying, "I wouldn’t dream of it, sir."

Ye Wang: "..."

He regretted starting this conversation.

Fortunately, even poorly made stir-fried peppers and sugar-coated tomatoes were edible. Before switching to fitness meals, Ye Wang had preferred spicy food, so the generous use of peppers made the meal weirdly decent. By the time they loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, it was nearly dark.

The villa's ground floor serves as the living space, the second floor is the training room, complete with a sauna and small pool, while the third floor consists of the bedrooms—several spacious suites, each with an independent shower.

Ye Wang glanced at his communicator's display: "I'm going for a run on the second floor. You can look around the house, watch TV or feed the fish. If you're tired, go upstairs and sleep."

The Star of the Empire, medically discharged due to injury, probably needed plenty of rest.

Jiang Qi snapped his head up.

From the moment Ye Wang met him, Jiang Qi had kept his gaze lowered, seeming docile and unassuming. Only this brief moment allowed Ye Wang to catch a glimpse of that piercing intensity.

Ye Wang thought, "Now this is interesting."

This was the Jiang Qi he knew.

But the next second, the man reverted to his docile, unassuming demeanor: "Yes, sir. The master bedroom?"

Ye Wang: "..."

The commander belatedly realized that he and Jiang Qi were legally married—of course, they were supposed to sleep together.

He fumbled his response: "No, of course not. There are multiple guest rooms on the third floor—pick whichever you like."

He hurried upstairs.

Behind him, Jiang Qi let out a barely audible exhale.

*

The commander went to the second floor, ran through two basic workout sets, and soon felt his arms sore and unable to move.

Upon closer inspection, much of the equipment in the training room was covered in a layer of dust, with only the most basic ones showing signs of use.

He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, briefly examining the muscles of his waist and abdomen, then shook his head slightly and clicked his tongue.

This body was nowhere near as capable as Ye Wang's former physique.

Ye Wang was also partly desk-bound—commanders didn’t fight on the front lines. His training regimen was far from the most intense in the Federation, and his physique leaned toward the lean but defined build among officers—the kind that was deceptively fit under the uniform. Even so, it surpassed that of most Imperial major generals.

Ye Wang caught his breath, then spent some time in the sauna and took a shower. Dressed in just boxers and barefoot, he stepped out to drink some water when his communicator rang three times—Pei Ming was calling.

66 promptly appeared: "This is the uncle of this body—one of the Empire's veteran officers."

Ye Wang: "I know him."

Imperial official positions heavily relied on bloodline inheritance. The Pei family was a prestigious old clan, with nearly all its descendants holding military ranks. Beyond that, the Empire's largest genetic pharmaceutical company was also a Pei family enterprise. Pei Ming was one of the core figures of the contemporary Pei family. During earlier negotiations between the Empire and the Federation, Ye Wang had seen him from afar.

Ye Wang answered the call.

In such prominent families, relationships were purely transactional—hardly warm or intimate. After a few pleasantries, Pei Ming mentioned that a cousin from their clan had graduated from military academy this year and needed to be placed under Ye Wang’s care for the time being. When the right opportunity arose, he would be transferred to a suitable position.

Ye Wang responded with noncommittal agreements, switching gears smoothly as he laughed: "No need to worry, Uncle. Pei Qi, right? Family looks after family—of course I’ll take care of him. I'll see he's properly placed."

As he spoke, he brought up a search screen to look up Pei Qi.

"Of course I know him—how could I not? We met when that cousin was little—we shared many meals. Later, under your suggestion, his family was transferred to the Fourth Military District, wasn’t it? After that, we drifted apart."

"How about this, Uncle—I’ll set up a dinner soon. Yes, sounds good."

He hung up.

66 was gaping in disbelief.

He called him "Uncle" smoothly; his acting was flawless, without a trace of hesitation.

Ye Wang put away his communicator and smiled, "Why the surprise? Just standard spy training—nothing special."

He noted in his memo: "Arrange dinner with Pei Qi," then slipped on his coat and went upstairs to bed.

At the third-floor landing, Ye Wang hesitated.

Pei Gu’s villa was large, with six identical doors lining both sides of the hallway, their doorframes identical, making them indistinguishable.

He’d told Jiang Qi earlier to take any spare room, but now Ye Wang couldn’t tell which one was the master bedroom.

"..."

"Whatever," Ye Wang thought. "I need to sleep. I’ll open any door—if Jiang Qi’s there, I’ll just back out."

He reached out, grasped the nearest handle, and pushed gently. The door wasn’t locked, and it opened a crack with the slightest motion.

The room was dark, appearing empty, but the moment the door moved, Ye Wang caught a stifled, pained moan.

He had once been stationed at a federal field hospital, where injured soldiers muffled their pain to avoid waking others at night. This sound was just like that—raw with pain but choked back, buried deep in the throat, barely noticeable unless you focused.

Having heard it many times before, Ye Wang stopped short. But when he strained to listen, the sound cut off abruptly, lost in the dark.

Only the faint sound of running water broke the silence.

"..."

Ye Wang stared at the partially open door. The hallway light illuminated a small patch inside, showing a thin figure curled under the covers, still visibly fragile.

This wasn’t a fellow soldier—this was Jiang Qi, the Empire’s Star.

Ye Wang stepped back and closed the door.

He walked a few paces down the corridor, his footsteps echoing down the hall. He paused for a long moment outside the master bedroom, then suddenly turned back and knocked on the slightly ajar door.

He knocked three times—firm but polite. "Jiang Qi, are you alright? You didn’t sound well."

They were enemies by duty, not by hate. Off the battlefield, if Jiang Qi was in trouble, Ye Wang would offer appropriate assistance.

After a pause, Jiang Qi’s calm, composed voice replied, "I’m fine, sir. I just woke up. There’s no issue."

"..."

The muffled sound might’ve been his imagination.

Ye Wang frowned slightly. "Alright, rest well then."

As he turned to leave, he hesitated again.

Something was still off.

Jiang Qi’s voice had been steady—too steady.

No one waking up would sound that calm.

Unless he was deliberately masking pain—so well that even the seasoned Ye Wang had nearly missed it.

Ye Wang raised his hand and knocked again. "Jiang Qi, may I come in? There’s something I’d like to discuss."

Another few seconds of silence passed.

After a moment, Jiang Qi's composed voice sounded again: "Understood, sir. But I'm in my pajamas—it's rather improper. Please allow me three minutes to freshen up."

Ye Wang replied calmly, "Alright."

Though he verbally agreed, his left hand immediately pushed open the door while his right found the wall switch. With a crisp *click*, 800-lumen overhead lights flooded the room, exposing everything in stark white illumination.

Ye Wang silently studied Jiang Qi.

Blinded by the sudden brightness, Jiang Qi instinctively raised a hand to shield his eyes while keeping the other beneath the covers. He remained half-seated on the bed, posture rigidly upright with an expression of forced calm. Yet upon closer inspection—his face was ashen-faced, lips bloodless, forehead drenched with sweat that matted his disheveled hair. Though he strained to keep his torso straight like a proper subordinate before a superior, his abdomen curved slightly inward, and his lips trembled faintly against clenched teeth, as if suppressing extreme discomfort.

"My apologies, sir," Jiang Qi managed a wan smile. "Receiving you at this hour while improperly dressed makes it improper for me to get up. What matter requires your attention?"

Ye Wang strode forward and pulled back the edge of the blanket, revealing Jiang Qi's hand pressed tightly against his stomach—clearly in severe pain.

Jiang Qi's face fell as he tried to withdraw his hand and speak, but Ye Wang sighed softly, his tone gentling: "Jiang Qi... are you in pain? Stomach ache?"

Author's note:

Ye Wang: "Should've said so earlier. I wouldn't have added the chili peppers if I'd known."