BDSMST -Chapter 17 The Special Treatment of a Bowl of Steamed Egg Custard

“Alright.”

Facing Gu Xuan’s perfectly justified demand, Jiang Suisui agreed with unusual promptness.

The meaning of this egg was extraordinary. It was not merely the first egg of the farm—it was the little heir’s first true “trophy,” earned through his own labor.

Nothing could teach him better than this.

She took the egg, still warm from Gu Xuan’s hands, and instructed Chunxing, “Go light the stove. Bring out our best bowl.”

Chunxing answered cheerfully and moved quickly. Seeing the young heir’s proud and eager expression, she felt genuinely happy for him.

Gu Xuan followed Jiang Suisui into the simple kitchen like a little tail, sticking close without leaving her side.

Leaning against the stove, he widened his curious eyes and watched her every movement without blinking.

Jiang Suisui first washed the treasured egg carefully with clean water. Then she picked up a bowl and gently tapped the egg against its rim.

Crack.

A thin fissure split across the shell.

With two nimble fingers, she opened it. The golden yolk and translucent white slid perfectly into the bowl—without a single drop wasted.

Gu Xuan let out a small gasp. He had only ever seen beaten egg mixture before; he had never witnessed the full process of an egg emerging from its shell.

Jiang Suisui picked up a pair of chopsticks and began stirring the egg.

Her movements were unhurried yet rhythmic. The chopsticks tapped lightly against the bowl with crisp sounds. Soon, yolk and white blended into a smooth, golden liquid.

Next, she poured in some water.

Gu Xuan recognized it—the well water she drank every day. Clear and sweet, it tasted better than the spring water boiled over silver charcoal back at the Marquis’ residence.

She added the water in precise proportion to the egg mixture, along with just the slightest pinch of salt.

“Why add water?” Gu Xuan couldn’t help asking. The custard he had eaten in the Marquis’ residence was said to contain milk and rich broth.

“Adding water makes the steamed custard silky and tender, like tofu,” Jiang Suisui explained patiently while stirring. “The salt enhances the freshness—it makes the egg taste richer and more fragrant.”

It was the first time she had taken the initiative to explain the craft of cooking to him.

Gu Xuan only half understood, but he firmly remembered: water makes it smooth; salt makes it fragrant.

Finally, Jiang Suisui covered the bowl of egg mixture with another empty bowl and carefully placed it into a pot of boiling water.

“Now we wait,” she said, covering the lid.

Waiting felt endless.

Gu Xuan darted to the stove, standing on tiptoe to peek through the lid’s crack. Then he ran into the courtyard to look at the sun, estimating the time.

He could hardly sit still. Chunxing watched him with a smile.

Soon, a faint, sweet fragrance drifted from the kitchen.

The aroma was both gentle and commanding, curling into Gu Xuan’s nose and making his heart itch with anticipation.

At last, Jiang Suisui lifted the lid.

A rich wave of egg fragrance burst forth with the rising steam.

Gu Xuan hurried over.

Inside the bowl, the custard had set into perfection. Its surface was smooth as a mirror, without a single bubble. The color was a tender pale yellow, glossy and springy—like a piece of fine jade jelly.

Using a cloth to protect her hands, Jiang Suisui carefully carried the bowl out. From a small jar, she scooped a single drop of clear sesame oil and drizzled it onto the center of the custard.

The oil met the heat and instantly released an even more alluring aroma.

“Here,” she said, placing the exquisite bowl before Gu Xuan on the stone table. “Your ‘trophy.’”

There were no extravagant ingredients, no complex seasonings—yet this bowl of custard carried all the pride and anticipation of a five-year-old child.

Gu Xuan stared at the custard made solely for him. His nose stung slightly.

Back at the Marquis’ residence, his custard would be topped with bird’s nest and dried scallops, served in silver bowls, attended by four or five maids.

But never had it felt as precious as it did today.

He picked up a small spoon and scooped a careful bite.

The custard melted on his tongue before he even needed to chew. A pure, rich egg fragrance filled his mouth, mingling with the subtle saltiness and the mellow aroma of sesame oil.

It was delicious—beyond delicious.

He had never tasted anything so good.

Bite after bite, he ate without lifting his head. Each spoonful carried almost reverent appreciation.

What he swallowed was not just custard, but the sweat of his own labor, the wild joy of discovering the egg at dawn, and the highest reward from the hen he had named “Big Flower.”

Soon, the bowl was empty.

Reluctantly, he scraped every last bit from the sides before finally setting the bowl down with a satisfied burp.

When he looked up, he saw Jiang Suisui and Chunxing smiling at him. Their breakfast remained the same simple wild vegetable porridge and coarse buns.

For the first time, while enjoying something delicious himself, he felt a trace of guilt toward others.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something—perhaps, Why aren’t you eating? or I’ll save some for you tomorrow.

But the words caught in his throat.

Instead, he silently stood, picked up his empty bowl—and Jiang Suisui’s as well—and carried them to the well.

Imitating Chunxing, he fetched water and used a worn cloth to scrub both bowls until they were spotless.

When he finished, he turned back and muttered to Jiang Suisui, “I… I’m going to feed the pigs.”

Without waiting for a reply, he ran toward the pigsty.

Jiang Suisui watched his small figure—his back inexplicably straighter than before—and the smile in her eyes deepened.

She knew that something had already taken root in the child’s heart, quietly sprouting and growing.