Chu Jinhan stared at her intently, showing no intention of helping.
Song Yunfei carried the groceries in herself, placing them on the table and fanning herself with her hand.
“It’s so hot outside,” she muttered as she turned on the fan and sat down to let it blow on her.
Noticing Chu Jinhan’s gaze, she looked up. “Why are you staring at me?”
He quickly averted his eyes, glancing at the groceries on the table. “I’ll be heading out to deliver food soon. There’s no time to cook—let’s just order takeout.”
It was the dinner rush—the busiest time for deliveries. Normally, Chu Jinhan went straight out after work without even stopping by the apartment.
He’d come back today only because Song Yunfei’s presence created a contrast he couldn’t ignore—he feared she might have done something drastic while he was gone.
Realizing that he actually thought she bought the groceries for him to cook, Song Yunfei let out a helpless laugh. “I bought these so I could cook later. You’d be back from deliveries by then and could eat.”
“But since you’re back today, just rest. I’ll cook,” Chu Jinhan said.
Song Yunfei didn’t want takeout; Chu Jinhan wasn’t cooking anymore, so she had no choice but to do it herself.
He looked at her strangely.
In the past six months, she’d cooked fewer than five times, three of which were instant noodles. Mostly, it was takeout—or Chu Jinhan cooking himself.
And he didn’t just cook—he even washed the dishes.
Now she brought home all these ingredients and planned to cook herself. It wasn’t strange he suspected something was up.
Chu Jinhan said nothing, just nodded, then walked over to the sofa and started scrolling on his phone.
The room was silent except for the hum of the fan—so quiet it felt almost eerie, tinged with awkwardness.
Song Yunfei stole a glance at him.
He wore a white shirt, collar open, sleeves rolled up, revealing tanned arms.
Head down, long fingers scrolling across his phone.
He’d been quite pale before, but now seemed a little sun-kissed. It didn’t harm his aura—in fact, he looked steadier, more grounded.
A sheen of sweat covered his forehead, showing he was hot too. Yet he refused to sit beside her and share the fan.
Song Yunfei sighed inwardly. Over the past six months, the original Song Yunfei must have truly worn down the little guilt he had in his heart.
Chu Jinhan was still checking stocks, though he had no money to invest—his salary card was with Song Yunfei, and she forbade him from trading.
She claimed she was saving for a house for them, but in reality, she couldn’t resist online shopping whenever she had a moment.
The “house” was just an excuse. With Chu Jinhan’s status, why would he need to buy one? She just feared that if he had cash, someone could trace him back to Haishi City, and there’d be a 50% chance he’d be recognized.
The two stocks he was watching had risen—just as he expected.
Deep in concentration, a warm breeze suddenly blew across him.
Looking up, he realized a fan had appeared out of nowhere.
Turning toward it, he saw Song Yunfei squatting on the floor, plugging it into the wall.
His gaze dropped to the nape of her neck—stray hairs clinging, T-shirt tight against her back, exposing pale skin above her jeans.
For some reason, last night’s images and sensations flashed in his mind.
Song Yunfei finished plugging in the fan and stood up. “All set. I’ll cook now so you can stay cool.”
She turned and walked into the kitchen.
The kitchen was tiny and extremely basic, with only two countertops, no gas line, no range hood.
Cooking was done with a gas canister, relying on the window and a small wall-mounted fan to vent the smoke.
Still, the window and fan were spotless, free of grime—Chu Jinhan’s handiwork. Every time he cooked, he cleaned meticulously afterward.
Even Song Yunfei couldn’t maintain that level of cleanliness daily. He probably had mild OCD.
Shaking her head, she set the groceries down and began washing vegetables.
Chu Jinhan watched the blurred silhouette through the frosted glass, suspicion deepening.
Soon, Song Yunfei emerged with the dishes: three main courses and a soup—stir-fried green peppers with shredded pork, cucumber with ham, spicy-sour shredded potatoes, and a tomato egg soup.
Not extravagant, but appetizing.
She grabbed a couple of napkins to wipe the sweat from her face and said, “Eat quickly. You’ll still have time to deliver after.”
In the original Song Yunfei’s memory, she could cook, though only a few simple dishes. What Song Yunfei made now was the same—basic home cooking—so she shouldn’t blow her cover.
She was still a bit afraid of revealing she wasn’t the original. Chu Jinhan had no real feelings for the original, only guilt. If he knew she wasn’t her, that guilt might vanish entirely.
She feared that if he left, he might seek revenge—sending her off, or worse, putting her in prison just for deceiving him.
After a pause, Chu Jinhan picked up his chopsticks and started eating.
Song Yunfei dug in too. After running around all afternoon, she was starving.
She had applied for a job that morning and got called for an interview in the afternoon.
Thinking of this, she looked up at him. “Oh, by the way, I found a job today. I’ll start tomorrow.”
Chu Jinhan blinked in surprise. “Why suddenly decide to work?”
She shrugged. “Being at home is boring. Eat, sleep, sleep, eat—you see? I’ve gained weight.”
She straightened her back and touched her stomach.
Chu Jinhan’s gaze flicked downward—first to her stomach, then subconsciously to her pale legs.
After she cleaned up, the previous sense of dirtiness was gone.
He glanced briefly and replied casually, “Not fat.”
Seeing him brush her off, Song Yunfei recalled how the original would react if he spoke honestly about her weight—instant rage, asking if he found her fat.
She sighed and kept eating.
After a while, she couldn’t help but ask, “How’s the food?”
Chu Jinhan: “Good.”
Still indifferent. She fell silent, unwilling to embarrass herself further.
No wonder the original had grown increasingly possessive—afraid he’d be taken by someone else outside, yet also fearing he’d regain his memory. Living on edge like that every day—no wonder she hadn’t gone crazy sooner.
Of course, it was her own fault; if she hadn’t dragged him into this mess, none of it would have happened.
After finishing, Chu Jinhan took the initiative to wash the dishes.
Song Yunfei clicked her tongue in disbelief. Look at how conscientious he was… then compare it to the original Song Yunfei.
Even a dog would shake its head at that.