“I know. Come up.”
Wen Jingming urged.
Wen Zhiyu froze for a moment, guessing that Qiao Nianxi had woken up.
The female lead really was the female lead—the embodiment of truth, goodness, and beauty.
Wen Zhiyu greeted Li Mei and went to the door to bring Wen Jingming up.
Wen Jingming’s palm landed on her hair and ruffled it.
“You’ve lost weight.”
Wen Zhiyu’s nose stung with emotion.
She turned her face to the side and mumbled that she hadn’t lost weight.
Wen Jingming’s expression was complicated as he asked where she’d gotten the money to live in such a big apartment.
Wen Zhiyu clenched her fingers—there was no way she’d admit the truth.
They’d finally improved their relationship; she definitely couldn’t expose her lies now.
“A friend helped.”
“What kind of friend—boyfriend or girlfriend?”
Wen Jingming was extremely wary.
He was strict about Wen Zhiyu’s romantic life. His sister was sweet-looking, and whoever she ended up with would be taking advantage of her.
He always felt she was still young and feared she’d get hurt in relationships.
Wen Zhiyu pushed open the door, unsure how to dodge the question.
Da Ju came charging over the moment the door opened, its fur all fluffy.
Li Mei had blow-dried its coat, and Da Ju’s looks had instantly jumped up a notch.
Wen Zhiyu scooped up Da Ju. “Brother…”
She’d barely started when Wen Jingming snatched the cat from her hands in one swift motion.
“Zhizhi, we can forgive you for pushing Nianxi into the water. But you shouldn’t have stolen Nianxi’s cat without saying a word.”
“Nianxi’s cat?”
Wen Zhiyu’s fingers froze mid-air.
Right—everything she’d ever had belonged to Qiao Nianxi.
“You’ve disappointed me.”
Wen Jingming suddenly felt his concern had been completely wasted.
Unwilling to stay a moment longer, he left with the cat in his arms.
Li Mei heard the argument and came over to explain what had happened.
But Wen Jingming had already left too quickly.
The young girl stood rooted to the spot, looking utterly heartbroken. Li Mei helped wipe her tears.
“Who was that? Why was he so harsh with you?”
“My brother.”
Wen Zhiyu answered with downcast eyes.
Forget it. She wouldn’t think about it anymore.
Though returning the cat hadn’t gone the way she’d wanted, at least it was done.
From now on, she’d keep her distance from the Wen family.
Li Mei comforted her a little, then felt a stir of inspiration as she looked at Wen Zhiyu’s face.
“Zhizhi, do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
Li Mei was delighted. When she got back, she sent a message to Li Moyuan.
“Young Master, do you want a girlfriend?”
“No.”
Li Moyuan refused without mercy.
Poor Li Mei—her matchmaking spark had barely flickered to life before it was snuffed out.
Wen Zhiyu was so wonderful—sweet-looking, sweet-spoken, and lived so close by.
Suddenly, a pungent, irritating smell hit her nose. Li Fang checked every room but found nothing unusual.
She opened the door and stepped out—the closer she got to the door across the hall, the stronger the stench became.
She coughed once, covered her nose, and knocked.
After a moment, Wen Zhiyu opened the door, face smudged with soot, and greeted her.
Li Mei walked in and turned off the gas stove.
Thick smoke filled the room like some immortal’s palace. She quickly opened the windows to air it out.
Wen Zhiyu stood off to the side like a child who’d done something wrong.
“Auntie, I was cooking.”
“You’ve never cooked before, have you?”
Li Mei could tell at a glance.
The girl was dressed in fine clothes with fair, delicate hands—not the hands of someone who did housework. She looked like she’d run away from home after a family quarrel.
Wen Zhiyu touched her cheek and gave a small shake of her head, only managing to smear more soot across her face like a little kitten.
Li Mei couldn’t help but laugh, then came over with a tissue to wipe her clean.
Wen Zhiyu stared at her, an idea forming.
Li Mei could cook—and she was good at it.
Several times, Wen Zhiyu had caught the aroma of food drifting over from next door, and sometimes the sweet scent of little cakes.
“Auntie, could you teach me to cook?”
“Of course I can, as long as you’re willing to learn. Cooking isn’t simple work.”
“I’m willing.”
Once the smoke in the kitchen had mostly cleared, Li Mei simply stayed and cooked with Wen Zhiyu from scratch.
Wen Zhiyu helped on the side.
When she reached for a plate, Li Mei noticed the clean, washed-out thermos and her heart tightened.
Vaguely, she remembered Li Moyuan asking her to cook for someone.
“Zhizhi, where did you get this thermos?”
“A friend gave it to me.”
Wen Zhiyu stirred the vegetables in the pan with clumsy movements and asked if it was time to turn off the heat.
Li Mei set down the thermos, picked up a plate, and walked over, pushing aside her jumbled thoughts.
If the young master knew this girl, he could simply have entrusted her to Li Mei’s care.
A simple meal of three dishes and a soup was set on the table.
Wen Zhiyu’s mouth watered—it was the taste of home-cooked food she knew so well.
What made her even happier was the sense of accomplishment from having made the meal herself.
She pulled out her phone, snapped a photo, and sent it straight to Li Moyuan.
Little Fairy: [Brother, I made all of this myself. Aren’t I capable?]
Little Fairy: [Brother, why aren’t you replying to my messages? Have you stopped loving me?]
Little Fairy: [A man’s heart is a needle at the bottom of the sea. For every minute you don’t reply, I’ll sentence you to two minutes of missing me.]
She sent several messages in a row, but Li Moyuan didn’t reply. Wen Zhiyu guessed he was busy.
The CEO of a multinational corporation couldn’t possibly have nothing to do.
Li Mei untied her apron and, noticing Wen Zhiyu’s expression, asked with a smile whether she had gotten herself a boyfriend.
“Not really. I just met some man online.”
Li Mei gasped in shock.
“You can’t trust anything on the internet. Someone in our neighborhood was in an online romance and got cheated out of a lot of money—they even sent nude photos. Zhizhi, you need to be careful. Don’t fall for any scams.”
“Huh?”
Wen Zhiyu genuinely had no idea about this.
There was a banner hung up in the neighborhood warning everyone else.
“Don’t worry, he’s not a scammer.”
The young woman had little life experience and was quite naive.
Li Mei decided to help her screen him. “Has he sent you any photos?”
“No. But I trust him.”
After transmigrating, Wen Zhiyu had directly searched for Li Moyuan’s photos online.
He was every bit as striking as a top celebrity—the small brown mole on his high-bridged nose shimmered with allure, both restrained and indulgent at once.
“Oh dear, what if he’s some ugly monster on the other end?”
Hearing Li Mei’s remark, Wen Zhiyu couldn’t hold back her laughter, laughing until her stomach ached.
She couldn’t speak, patting the table with her small hand.
Li Moyuan definitely had nothing to do with being an ugly monster.
But since he hadn’t replied to her messages for so long, Wen Zhiyu deliberately sent three words over.
There was plenty of food, so Wen Zhiyu kept Li Mei to join her for the meal.
After eating, she cleaned up the dishes and then asked Li Mei to come over whenever she had time in the future.
“My master is away on a business trip and hasn’t returned. When he’s not home, I’ll come over.”
“That’s wonderful.”
From now on, she wouldn’t have to torture herself with cooking.
After seeing Li Mei off, her quiet phone finally got a reply.
LMY: [Very capable. If you can’t cook, you don’t have to. Did you hurt your fingers?]
LMY: [Was just in a meeting.]
LMY: [Alright, thinking of you for two minutes.]
Every message had a corresponding response.
As for the “ugly monster” one, slender fingers with defined knuckles tapped on the screen.
Then he opened the camera, took a photo of himself, and sent it over.
LMY: [Am I an ugly monster?]