Shen Zhili’s lips twitched.
How annoying.
She felt that her attitude toward Jiang Xianzhuo was like wetting her pants—everyone could see the embarrassing stain, but only she knew the warmth hidden within.
“I’m not trying to torment you.”
Shen Zhili sighed, crouched down, placed the insulated box on the floor, and reached out to unlatch it.
“The ingredients and seasonings are all inside. Take a look for yourself.”
She spoke earnestly, with no hint of joking in her tone.
As the lid was lifted, the scent of fresh ingredients mixed with cold air instantly wafted out.
Jiang Xianzhuo’s gaze dropped.
He stared at her for a few seconds, but the thick layer of suspicion in his eyes didn’t dissipate; instead, it deepened.
He stuffed the last bottle of iced oolong tea into an empty spot on the shelf, then stood up, looking at her still crouched on the floor.
“Why?”
His voice was low, almost muffled by the hum of the convenience store’s refrigeration units.
Shen Zhili stood up as well, meeting his gaze.
The distance between them was too close.
So close that she could clearly see the slightly curly strands of hair on his forehead and the unhealthy pallor on his face from long-term malnutrition.
Her heart suddenly ached.
“Because…”
You’re my husband.
The five words rushed to the tip of her tongue but were forcefully swallowed back.
Shen Zhili opened her mouth, but her tongue felt stiff.
No.
She couldn’t say that either.
If she did, Jiang Xianzhuo would definitely think she was a patient who had just escaped from a mental hospital.
Her mind raced, scrambling for any usable excuse.
“Because when I woke up, I felt that what I did last time was wrong, and I wanted to make it up to you.”
In the end, she chose the safest and most flimsy reason.
As soon as the words left her mouth, Jiang Xianzhuo let out a soft chuckle.
“Make it up to me?”
He repeated the phrase as if hearing something novel.
Then he turned around and bent down again to unpack another box of mineral water that had just been delivered.
“Not needed.”
“Shen Zhili, just leave.”
His voice came from behind the cardboard box, muffled.
“Don’t get in the way here.”
Shen Zhili: “…”
At that moment, she even felt the urge to smash the heavy insulated box directly against the back of his head.
In her entire life, Jiang Xianzhuo was the only man she had ever genuinely tried to serve.
Now, she had taken the initiative to come to him, humbled herself to cook for him, and he still dared to call her an inconvenience?
Damn it.
She’d endure it.
A gentleman’s revenge is never too late—after marriage.
Shen Zhili took a deep breath, bent down to pick up the insulated box again, and walked over to the checkout counter.
The middle-aged woman was engrossed in scrolling through short videos and was startled when Shen Zhili suddenly approached.
“What?”
The woman looked up, her eyes filled with annoyance at being disturbed.
“Auntie, do you have a kitchen here?”
Shen Zhili asked directly.
The woman paused for a moment, her gaze instinctively drifting past Shen Zhili toward the back of the store, lingering briefly on Jiang Xianzhuo’s back.
“You’re here for him?”
Shen Zhili nodded.
The annoyance on the woman’s face instantly faded, replaced by a knowing, gossipy expression.
She looked Shen Zhili up and down a few times before suddenly smiling.
“Alright, there’s a small stove in the back break room. You can use it if you want.”
As she spoke, she even called out toward Jiang Xianzhuo.
“Little Jiang, your girlfriend is here, and she brought stuff to cook for you.”
“Treasure her.”
Jiang Xianzhuo paused the box he was unpacking.
He turned his head, his narrow eyes filled with suppressed irritation.
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Oh…”
The woman drew out her tone meaningfully, then winked at Shen Zhili.
“So she’s a pursuer then?”
“Young man, good taste. You’re quite lucky.”
Jiang Xianzhuo didn’t respond further. Expressionlessly, he stomped the empty cardboard box flat, tossed it into the recycling area in the corner, then picked up a rag and began wiping the shelves.
Every movement radiated silent resistance.
Shen Zhili watched his stubborn refusal to communicate, and the anger in her heart actually faded.
She even found it a bit amusing.
Remember this, Jiang.
He’d better not beg her to change positions in the future… she definitely wouldn’t be so accommodating then!
Shen Zhili didn’t delay any longer. Carrying the insulated box, she pushed open the door to the break room under the woman’s guidance of “Go inside, that door right there.”
A musty smell mixed with dampness and accumulated clutter hit her face.
The space was suffocatingly cramped. The break room was piled with some miscellaneous items, with a folding bed and a simple wardrobe in the corner.
Against the wall, there was a single-burner induction cooker, next to a rusty sink.
The conditions here were even more rudimentary than she had imagined.
But Shen Zhili didn’t mind.
She opened the insulated box, carefully taking out the ingredients and seasonings one by one, arranging them on the only usable small table nearby.
Duck meat, fresh pork ribs, beautifully marbled beef, and a bag of lively, jumping shrimp.
Along with the various bottled and jarred seasonings he loved, which she had carefully selected.
Just looking at these things, Shen Zhili felt she could already smell that addictive aroma.
She rolled up the sleeves of her sweatshirt, ready to get to work.
But the next second, she suddenly realized a fatal problem.
She didn’t know how to cook.
To be precise, she had never seriously stepped into a kitchen in her life… because for the first eighteen years, there was Mom Liu at home, and for the following years, there was Jiang Xianzhuo.
She had barely even held a kitchen knife a few times.
Shen Zhili stared at the pile of colorful ingredients, falling silent.
Whatever.
Anyway, today’s goal wasn’t really to prepare a full imperial banquet.
Shen Zhili picked up the kitchen knife that looked very heavy, planning to first cut the duck meat into pieces.
The moment the blade touched the cutting board, she heard a soft sound behind her.
It was the sound of the door being pushed open.
Shen Zhili turned around.
Jiang Xianzhuo was already standing at the doorway, still holding the rag he had used to wipe the shelves earlier.
He leaned against the doorframe, looking at her with icy eyes. “You’re really planning to cook here?”
Shen Zhili raised the kitchen knife in her hand, trying to boost her own courage.
“Otherwise? I brought all this stuff from so far away just to display it?”
Jiang Xianzhuo didn’t speak.
He stared at the kitchen knife she was holding awkwardly, his brow furrowing.
“Aren’t you incapable of cooking?”
Shen Zhili: “…”
She suddenly felt a bit guilty.
But she quickly lifted her chin defiantly.
“I can learn if I don’t know how.”
After hearing this, Jiang Xianzhuo gave another mocking laugh, then walked straight over and took the kitchen knife from her hand.
“Move aside.”
“You’re in the way here.”