The Art of Disruption

The Frost-Jade Palace was a tomb. It floated miles above the cloud layer, a sprawling complex carved entirely from white jade. There was no dust. There was no noise. There was no life.

Until Chloe decided to fix that.

It had been a week since her summoning. Han had allowed her to leave the spring once her spiritual body had stabilized, giving her a set of plain gray robes and a room that was essentially a walk-in freezer.

She was supposed to be meditating. Instead, she was exploring.

She found the kitchen. It was pristine, stocked with "Spirit Rice" and "Heavenly Dew," but devoid of flavor.

"Unacceptable," Chloe declared.

She found a patch of spicy fire-peppers growing in the ornamental garden—probably meant for alchemy, not consumption. She harvested them all.

Two hours later, High Immortal Han was meditating in the Hall of Tranquility, attempting to perceive the Dao of Silence.

* Sizzle.*

A sharp, pungent aroma drifted through the hall. It smelled of oil, garlic, and capsaicin. It assaulted the nose. It watered the eyes.

Han opened his eyes. The Dao of Silence shattered.

He stood up and glided to the kitchen. He found Chloe standing over a wok (which she had transfigured from a ceremonial shield), tossing vegetables with a manic grin.

"What," Han asked, his voice trembling with suppressed rage, "are you doing?"

"Cooking," Chloe said, not looking up. "You can't expect a girl to run on dew. I need carbs. I need spice. Want some?"

She held up a wooden spoon. It was dripping with red oil.

Han recoiled as if she had offered him poison. "I do not eat. Food creates impurities. I consume the qi of the universe."

"Well, the qi of the universe tastes like air," Chloe said, popping a pepper into her mouth. "And you look anemic. You know, for a god, you have terrible skin tone. Very pale. Iron deficiency?"

Han’s eye twitched. "I am an Immortal. My body is forged from starlight."

"Starlight needs iron," Chloe countered. She grabbed a bowl and shoved it toward him. "Eat. It’s spicy stir-fry. It’ll put some color in your cheeks."

"I took a Vow," Han said icily. "The Vow of Severed Dust. I reject mortal pleasures. Taste is a distraction."

"Everything is a distraction to you," Chloe said, leaning against the counter. "You live in a floating rock, you don't talk to anyone, and you don't eat. That’s not godhood, Han. That’s depression."

Han stared at her. In five hundred years, no one had dared to speak to him with anything less than trembling reverence.

"You are insolent," he whispered.

"I'm a nurse," Chloe corrected. "I possess a high tolerance for difficult patients. Now, move. You're blocking the ventilation."

Han stood there for a long moment, watching her eat with gusto. The smell was... distracting. But for the first time in centuries, the Frost-Jade Palace didn't smell like nothing.

He turned and swept out of the room. But he didn't banish her back to the spring.