The hall was lit only by a dim, warm yellow lamp, its light cascading down onto Shu Qianzhi’s loosely scattered hair, shimmering with a golden glow that made her smile even sweeter.
She looked up at Ji Zechen with clear, bright eyes like pristine spring water, yet possessing an irresistibly addictive charm.
Ji Zechen’s pupils showed little emotion. “Why wait for me to come back?”
“Because I missed you, brother.” Still appearing innocent, Shu Qianzhi gently swung Ji Zechen’s arm. “You didn’t reply to my message, and I couldn’t see you, but I really missed you so much.”
In the evening, she had sent him a text asking when he’d return, but received no response, so she had waited until now.
So foolishly, so persistently.
Ji Zechen paused.
“Didn’t see it,” he said indifferently, his tone flat and clearly unconcerned. “Probably got filtered as a junk message.”
Shu Qianzhi: …
She had even attached a selfie to that message. If that could be mistaken for a junk message, then the system must have automatically categorized her as…
That kind of person, right?
She let out a soft “hmph” and gave Ji Zechen’s arm a light pinch to express her displeasure.
But soon she was smiling again and quickly asked, “Then can I add you on WeChat? That way you won’t miss my messages.”
Ji Zechen’s dark eyes fixed on her, devoid of excessive emotion yet carrying a faint, pressing intensity.
“What makes you think I’d want to receive your messages?” he retorted.
Chilled by his response, Shu Qianzhi shrunk her neck slightly, blinking her eyes with grievance. “You’re so mean, brother.”
Ji Zechen: …
Suddenly found it hard to maintain his harshness.
He raised a hand to adjust his tie, straightened up, and withdrew his other arm from Shu Qianzhi’s grasp, preventing her from holding it further.
“Go back to your bedroom,” he said, toning down his sharpness. “Since you’re scared, go to sleep early. Don’t wait for me.”
“But now that you’re here, I’m not scared anymore.” Shu Qianzhi immediately responded, noticing Ji Zechen preparing to go upstairs. She quickly rose from the sofa and circled in front of him, continuing to coax. “Have you eaten dinner, brother? Let me cook something to fill your stomach.”
Her expression was undoubtedly sincere—so sincere that doubting her motives felt almost criminal.
Ji Zechen remained impassive. “No need.”
“Are you really not hungry, brother?” Shu Qianzhi persisted. “The butler and Aunt Li both told me you often work too busy to eat. So let me cook for you, okay?”
As she spoke, she noticed Ji Zechen’s slightly softened expression and promptly pulled him toward the dining area.
Ji Zechen could clearly have refused, but evidently, he didn’t.
Though his words said no, his body was quite honest. Ji Zechen simply took the seat at the head of the dining table, his eyes following Shu Qianzhi’s movements as he lightly tapped the tabletop with his fingertips, like a supervisor inspecting work.
“You know how to cook?” he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly in skepticism.
Shu Qianzhi tied on an apron, flawless in her demeanor. “I can learn.”
She opened the refrigerator door, where Aunt Li had prepared plenty of ribs that afternoon knowing she liked them—perfect for making congee. To maintain her act, she even opened a cookbook and meticulously pretended to follow every step.
“A spoonful of sesame oil, a pinch of MSG, and then salt…” Shu Qianzhi picked up two containers, looking at Ji Zechen with perfectly feigned curiosity, “Brother, which one is salt and which is sugar?”
Ji Zechen: …
With skills like this, was she really capable of cooking for him?
He stood up, walked over to her, quickly identified the salt container, “You can’t even tell these apart?”
Shu Qianzhi secretly smiled, deliberately rising slightly on her toes to lean closer to him. She reached out to take the container from his palm, then swiftly stepped back to maintain distance, tilting her head with a smile, “Of course I know, but I just wanted you to get it for me.”
Flirting without being obvious.
“Hmm…” Ji Zechen didn’t respond, instead standing to the side observing her every move.
Soon enough, a steaming bowl of porridge was ready. Shu Qianzhi carefully carried it to the dining table, served him a bowl, then sat beside Ji Zechen propping her chin in her hands, watching him eat.
“Try it quickly, brother. Is it good?”
Ji Zechen glanced at her, then at the decent-looking bowl of porridge, his expression revealing suspicion. But he said nothing, leaving Shu Qianzhi feeling uncertain.
Unsure whether he would notice something amiss, Shu Qianzhi decided to take the initiative, “Hurry and eat while it’s hot, brother. Do you need me to feed you?”
Ji Zechen rubbed his temple, temporarily setting aside certain thoughts.
Under Shu Qianzhi’s watchful gaze, he took a taste. The warm porridge traveled down his throat to his stomach, instantly filling his taste buds.
Just like its appearance suggested, this spare rib porridge tasted even sweeter and more fragrant than he had imagined. The cooking time was perfect, the flavor neither too salty nor too bland – completely unlike something made by a beginner.
“How is it? Delicious, right?” Shu Qianzhi’s expectant eyes appeared before Ji Zechen again, waiting for words of praise.
Instead of complying with her wishes, Ji Zechen put down his spoon, placed his hand on the table edge, and questioned her with some severity, “Are you really unable to cook?”
Here we go again…
He was so quick to get stern with her, even though he’d been fine just moments before, now turning cold in an instant.
Such an unpredictable man.
“I don’t know,” Shu Qianzhi replied calmly, finding amnesia to be a convenient excuse. “But I felt really natural while cooking just now. Brother, do you think I might have a natural talent for cooking?”