Weijie carefully poured the water, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.
He looked so out of place kneeling over a small cooking pot, his massive frame casting a shadow that reached all the way to the back of the cave.
"Now the fun part " Ningning said, pulling the wild ginger and mountain onions from her hide satchel. "Smash these in the mortar. You have to be gentle, Weijie. Don't turn them into dust; just bruise them so the flavor comes out."
Weijie took the stone pestle.
He looked at the tiny, fragrant ginger root as if it were a delicate insect.
He gave it a "gentle" tap.
CRACK.
The ginger didn't just bruise; it practically vaporized under the pressure, and a piece of it flew up, hitting Weijie square in the forehead.
He blinked, stunned, as the pungent scent of ginger filled the air.
"I... I think I used too much force." he muttered, looking sheepishly at the mortar.
