Chapter 10 (2/2)
There were no ingredients Liu Qianxiu especially disliked, which gave Mu Wan plenty of room to work with. She picked up several vegetables, and when they passed the seafood section, she added a fish at the last minute.
Once they got back to Liu Qianxiu’s apartment and checked on the kittens, Mu Wan slipped away to the kitchen while he was mixing formula.
He came in afterward carrying the bags and set the ingredients in the sink beneath the kitchen window. Mu Wan stepped up, tied her long hair into a low ponytail, and got to work washing the vegetables.
Two vegetable dishes.
Tomato scrambled eggs.
Stir-fried lotus root.
And one meat dish:
Red-braised fish.
The fish had already been cleaned by the supermarket staff. Mu Wan put it on a plate, washed the tomatoes and lotus root, and arranged them separately.
Red tomatoes.
Tender pale lotus root.
One whole fish.
All laid out in order on the counter.
Mu Wan looked over the ingredients and took out her phone.
By the time Liu Qianxiu came into the kitchen after feeding the three little ones, Mu Wan had already completed the prep work.
Well, at least the ingredients were washed.
At the moment, she was holding a pale, freshly cut lotus root and trying to slice it.
Several pieces already lay on the chopping board. They were uneven, some thick, some thin. Then—
Thunk.
The knife came down through the lotus root and struck the board with a heavy thud, more like chopping through bone than slicing vegetables.
The woman’s back was slim and fine.
Liu Qianxiu looked at the bright knife in her hand, then at the large remaining half of the lotus root. His mouth tightened slightly before he stepped forward.
Mu Wan’s next chop never landed.
A cool current of air brushed up behind her, and she heard a quiet sigh.
Her eyes flickered.
She turned.
The back of her hand cooled as the knife was taken gently from her grip.
Behind her, within her line of sight, Liu Qianxiu’s lashes were lowered, and his voice sounded as though it had just been lifted out of a mountain spring from one of her dreams.
“I’ll do it.”
Not everything about him was cold.
At the very least, standing behind her now, the breath of his words brushed her ear like wind over grassland at night—warm, even, light, and faintly numbing.
Mu Wan kept looking at him, not yet turning away.
He sensed that something was off, and his gaze shifted from the chopping board to her face.
It was only a light, passing look.
And yet it felt as though it had closed around her heart.
Something she had never felt before was beginning to grow, quietly and without warning.
Mu Wan stepped away from the board.
Liu Qianxiu placed one hand against the lotus root, his long fingers bending slightly around it, the joints clean and elegant. The pale coolness of his skin looked nearly the same color as the lotus root itself.
The knife rose and fell.
Even slices bloomed beneath the blade.
The chopping board filled with the fine, rapid rhythm of cutting.
It sounded exactly like Mu Wan’s heartbeat.
She was not watching him cut vegetables.
She was watching him.
The six o’clock sunlight was the loveliest sort.
Not harsh. Not blazing. Never oppressive.
It was the kind of light that existed only to be gentle—falling quietly over the earth, over every place left uncovered, accompanying you, soothing you.
He and the sunlight seemed to become one.
He was the six o’clock sun.
Liu Qianxiu set the chopped tomatoes onto a plate. Then, without turning, he asked, “Everything’s ready. Are you cooking now?”
Mu Wan came back to herself and looked at him blankly.
“Cooking what?”
Clearly, she had already forgotten that tonight was supposed to be her turn to cook.
Liu Qianxiu pressed his lips together once, but did not remind her.
Instead, he looked at the cleaned fish and asked for her opinion.
“How do you want to do the fish?”
He had spent years eating light, restrained food. The things he cooked did not always suit an ordinary palate. Since Mu Wan had chosen a fish tonight, she had obviously wanted to do something with it.
Mu Wan did find very light food a bit hard to get used to, but knowing Liu Qianxiu preferred cleaner flavors, she looked at the fish and began, “Steamed—”
“Let’s braise it,” Liu Qianxiu said.
Mu Wan’s eyes lit instantly, like lamps in the dark.
Liu Qianxiu looked at them.
In those black pupils, delight glowed too openly to hide.
She was not really a fox spirit after all. What she showed the world was just a dark shadow cast on the wall—posturing, nothing more. Her true form was only a small cat who could be made happy by something as simple as a single fish.
Liu Qianxiu looked away again, toward the fish on the plate.
A smile touched the corner of his mouth.
It was the first time Mu Wan had ever seen him smile.
She froze, unsure for a second whether she had imagined it, then leaned one shoulder against the counter and studied the line of his face in the evening light. But by the time she tilted closer, he had already resumed that usual ascetic, restrained expression of his.
“You looked beautiful when you smiled just now,” Mu Wan said.
Liu Qianxiu lifted his eyes and asked, “How beautiful?”
Mu Wan thought about it for a moment.
Then she said,
“Beautiful enough to make my heart move.”
why my heart's fluttering too.. they are so pure and sweet. the chemistry is chef's kiss
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