Back at Liu Qianxiu’s place, she checked on the kittens. While he mixed milk powder, Mu Wan slipped away into the kitchen.
Liu Qianxiu carried the bags in. He set the ingredients by the sink under the kitchen window.
Mu Wan walked over, tied her long hair into a low ponytail, and started washing vegetables.
Two vegetarian dishes: tomato and egg, and stir-fried lotus root.
One meat dish: braised fish.
The fish had already been cleaned at the store. She laid it on a plate, washed the tomatoes and lotus root, and arranged them neatly on separate plates.
Red tomatoes. Pale, tender lotus root. A single fish. Lined up on the counter like an intention.
Mu Wan surveyed everything, then pulled out her phone.
After feeding the three little ones, Liu Qianxiu came into the kitchen.
Mu Wan had prepped, at least in the most basic sense: the produce was clean.
Now she was holding a pale white lotus root and hacking it into slices.
A few pieces were already on the board, uneven in thickness, jagged at the edges. The knife came down with a heavy thud, like Mu Wan was chopping bones.
Mu Wan’s back was slim and long. Liu Qianxiu stared at the bright blade in her hand, then at the still-large chunk of lotus root remaining. His mouth tightened.
He walked in.
Her next chop didn’t land.
A faint breeze at her back. A quiet, almost helpless sigh.
Mu Wan’s gaze shifted. She turned her head. Coolness brushed the back of her hand as the knife was taken from her grip.
Behind her, within the edge of her vision, Liu Qianxiu lowered his lids. His voice was low, like spring water lifted from the depths of a dream.
“I’ll do it.”
So he wasn’t made entirely of cold.
At the very least, when he stood behind her, when he spoke, his breath skimmed the curve of her ear like a night wind crossing a wide field. Warm. Gentle. Clean. And somehow, it left a soft numbness behind.
Mu Wan kept looking at him and didn’t move away right away.
He sensed something off. His gaze lifted from the cutting board and swept over Mu Wan, light and casual.
Just one glance.
It felt like his fingers closed around her heart.
Something unfamiliar began to grow, soundless and persistent, in the quiet space between them.
Mu Wan stepped aside.
Liu Qianxiu pinned the lotus root with his hand. His fingers were long, joints defined, the pale cool of his skin nearly the same shade as the lotus root itself.
The knife rose and fell in a smooth rhythm.
Even slices blossomed under the blade. The board made small, crisp cutting sounds, quick and neat.
Like Mu Wan’s heartbeat now.
She wasn’t watching him cut.
She was watching him.
Six o’clock sunlight was at its best. Not sharp, not oppressive, just a soft, steady warmth that seemed to exist for the sole purpose of accompanying you, calming you.
The light and he merged into one.
He was the six o’clock sun.
Liu Qianxiu picked up the tomatoes and cut them into chunks. The knife tapped lightly. He placed them into a bowl and asked, “All prepped. Are you cooking now?”
Mu Wan blinked as if waking from sleep and looked at him. “Cooking what?”
She’d actually forgotten that today was supposed to be her cooking.
Liu Qianxiu pressed his lips together, but he didn’t remind her. He glanced at the fish, already cleaned, and asked instead, “How do you want the fish?”
He ate lightly by habit. His food wouldn’t suit most people’s tastes. Mu Wan had bought a fish, which meant she wanted something more.
She really did find his food a little too plain. Her eyes fell on the fish. Thinking of his preferences, she started, “Light…”
“Braised,” Liu Qianxiu said.
Mu Wan’s eyes lit up like a lamp in a long night.
Liu Qianxiu looked at her expression, the bright, unhidden happiness. She wasn’t a fox spirit at all. That “danger” she projected was only a shadow on the wall, bluff and bravado.
Her true form was just a kitten who could be delighted by a single fish.
He turned his gaze back to the plate, and the corner of his mouth lifted.
Mu Wan froze.
It was the first time she’d seen him smile.
For a second, she wasn’t sure she’d imagined it. She leaned lightly against the counter, studying the side of Liu Qianxiu’s face in the sunset glow.
But by the time she leaned in, he’d already returned to his usual cool, restrained expression.
Mu Wan said softly, “You looked really good when you smiled just now.”
Liu Qianxiu lifted his eyes. “How good?”
Mu Wan thought for a moment.
Then she answered, honest and calm, “Good enough to make my heart flutter.”
The author has something to say:Mu Wan: What do you do?Liu Daochang: What do you mean?
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