We took our sweet time strolling leisurely around the bustling merchant district, in no particular hurry. We sometimes stopped by various stalls that caught our attention, mostly at the street food vendors, to buy and sample anything delicious that the merchant district had to offer. The variety was impressive and seemingly endless.
We tried various fried foods, made mostly from rice flour and different grains. The vendors would fry them to golden perfection right in front of us in large woks of bubbling oil. And there were some particularly interesting large pepper cones—hollowed out peppers that were filled with some kind of seasoned meat filling and then grilled slowly over charcoal to absolute perfection. The smell alone was mouthwatering.
It was definitely a bit too spicy for my Northern palate, making my eyes water slightly. But Arvid bit into his pepper cone enthusiastically, like the intense spiciness meant absolutely nothing to him. He seemed completely unaffected, even enjoying the heat.
I had noticed this cultural difference before during my time in the South. The Southerners genuinely loved to make their foods intensely spicy by adding plenty of chili powder and chili flakes liberally on nearly everything they cooked. There was one particular stall where we waited in line to buy some filled buns that smelled incredible. The woman who made them, working efficiently over her cooking station, literally dipped those freshly steamed buns completely in bright red chili oil before serving them to customers. I quickly asked her to skip that particular step for mine, which she complied with, though somewhat reluctantly.
"A little heat would do you good, dear," she said with a knowing smile as she handed over my relatively plain bun to me. "It will make you tough enough to face the sun god himself without flinching."
I thanked her politely for accommodating my request.
Meanwhile, Arvid chomped eagerly into his own bun, which literally dripped bright chili oil down his fingers as he bit into it. He ate with obvious delight, completely unbothered. He didn't turn red in the face or even seem remotely affected by the extreme level of spice that would have destroyed my mouth.
"Is it good?" I asked him curiously before I carefully bit into my own much milder bun.
He nodded vigorously to indicate yes, his mouth too full to speak. After finally swallowing the large bite, he said with genuine delight in his voice, "It's been far too long since I had something like this."
He continued, "No matter how skilled the palace cooks are or how they prepare food, they always tend to make everything mild and refined for imperial tastes. This kind of completely unrestrained, aggressive spice is something you can only get from the street vendors."
He added this with obvious delight and glanced back longingly at the stall we'd just left. He swallowed hard, clearly wanting more.
"Go buy another one if you want," I told him encouragingly as I struggled to manage my own supposedly mild bun. Even without the chili oil, it was still noticeably spicy to me.
"Alright, wait right here for me," he said before he eagerly went back to the stall and ordered another bun. I smiled affectionately as I watched him order the second bun with such boyish enthusiasm, like a child getting a treat.
The seasoned meat filling inside my bun was only lightly spiced with pepper and other aromatics, but still it felt distinctly hot on my tongue, making it tingle. But after some struggle and determination, I was able to finish eating it completely. However, by the time I was done, I was sweating rather profusely, and my face and nose felt uncomfortably hot, like I was burning from the inside. And I was salivating excessively, desperately wanting something to rinse off and reduce the lingering spice coating my mouth.
Then, as if reading my mind, Arvid appeared by my side. In his arm he carried a tall glass of milk, though it was somewhat yellowish in color, like something else had been mixed into it.
"Banana milk," he explained simply, holding it out and signaling for me to take it.
I took the glass greedily from him, bringing it immediately to my lips with relief and delight. I'd had no idea what a banana even was until today. Earlier, when we had walked by a fruit vendor's colorful stall, Arvid had taken the time to introduce me to all kinds of exotic tropical fruits that grew abundantly in the South's warm climate—fruits I'd never seen in the North.
That's when I had first seen the fruit called banana—elongated and curved, with a bright yellow peel that you had to remove. It was a wonderfully fragrant fruit, and after Arvid had bought me one to try, I had decided I liked its unique taste the best among all the various fruits he'd let me sample. The flavor was distinctive—a mix of slight tanginess but wrapped around in natural sweetness. The texture was creamy and soft.
As I started gulping the flavored milk down eagerly, I immediately felt the burning spiciness rinsing away from my mouth and throat. The fragrant milk was absolutely delicious and refreshing. It seemed they had added honey to sweeten it even further, creating a perfect balance.
"Is it good?" Arvid asked with an amused smile after I had finished drinking the entire glass in one go. He took the empty glass back from my hand gently, then reached up and wiped my mouth with his fingers, cleaning away a residue. Then, maintaining eye contact, he brought those fingers to his own mouth and licked them clean like a cat.
"There was some milk on your upper lip," he explained with a widening grin when I looked at him with obvious confusion at his actions.
"Oh," I said, immediately trying to wipe my mouth more thoroughly with the back of my hands, feeling embarrassed.
"It's gone now," Arvid said with a distinctly mischievous grin spreading across his face. Then he bent down until his mouth was right next to my ear. "I should have just sucked it clean directly," he whispered in the most nonchalant, casual voice I'd ever heard from him, as if commenting on the weather.
It did not take even a full minute for my face to turn bright red with embarrassment. Normally, I was always the one who teased him relentlessly until he was red-faced and blushing. Now today, the roles had completely reversed. He straightened back to his full height and looked directly at my face to gauge my reaction, and seeing my obviously red face, he grinned like an absolute gremlin who'd just pulled off a successful prank.
Then he turned and deliberately disappeared into the crowd, weaving between people until he reached the flavored milk vendor's stall. He returned the empty glass to the vendor and chatted with the man for a few minutes—probably complimenting the drink—before finally making his way back to where I stood waiting.
By now, it was almost close to sunset. Our leisurely stroll through the market would soon have to come to an end. I let out an involuntary sigh of regret. Oh, I genuinely didn't want this peaceful time to end. I really didn't. But we weren't some ordinary couple with minimal responsibilities in their lives who could afford to joke around and wander aimlessly with each other whenever they pleased. We had the heavy responsibilities of an entire nation resting on our shoulders, whether we wanted them or not.
When Arvid returned to my side, he followed my gaze upward into the evening sky that was now painted in various beautiful shades of oranges, yellows, and soft pink. The colors were stunning.
"Time flies by so quickly, doesn't it?" he said, letting out a sigh that probably meant he was thinking the same melancholy thoughts as me.
"Can we come back here another day?" I asked him hopefully, turning to peer directly into his eyes. "Just like this?"
He met my eyes and smiled, though there was something bittersweet in his expression. "Sure, why not? Of course we can."
But we both knew, without saying it aloud, that day was probably going to be far, far into the future. A day that might only come after we both successfully navigated through whatever next obstacle fate threw at us. An uncertain day that we could only hope for.
---
We walked back through the now-familiar streets until we found the large, impressive building that I had first entered on my very first day in Arpa—the merchant building where I'd hidden in the silk shipment. The building was as magnificent as ever, its architecture imposing. But for some reason, I noticed that the shops inside the building seemed strangely empty now compared to that busy day. Many stalls appeared closed or abandoned.
Arvid glanced up at the darkening sky, gauging the time. "We have perhaps an hour until the sun sets completely and it gets dark. Let's try to make this visit quick."
I nodded in agreement, though I wasn't entirely sure we could actually accomplish that.