Tao Fengche initially intended to heat the milk himself. Given that it involved Sui Yuesheng, he was reluctant to let others handle it.

As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, the chefs were a bit surprised but assumed he was just early from school and eager for dinner. However, Tao Fengche immediately asked them to clear a free stove for him.

“Huh? Sure, young master,” they exchanged glances, not knowing what he intended to do but quickly made space for him.

Next, the highly-paid chefs from all over watched in astonishment as Tao Fengche picked up a pot.

The chefs were dumbfounded, their expressions as if they’d encountered something monstrous. What is he here for? They knew the young master couldn’t cook, silently exchanging looks of confusion.

Indeed, Tao Fengche couldn’t cook. This was his first time in the kitchen. Although he had only read the recipe in advance and had no practical experience, he was inexplicably confident.

After all, heating milk seemed simple enough. Moreover, he used to drink it often as a child.

It had been so long that many childhood memories were like a hazy veil, faintly remembered. But often, they just needed a clue, and with the right trigger, the sealed memories would resurface.

Earlier in the afternoon, as soon as Yan Yi mentioned “heated milk,” Tao Fengche remembered. As a child, to grow taller, Tao Zhixing would have the kitchen bring him a cup of hot milk every night. This continued until he reached middle school when the milk gradually stopped.

In Tao Fengche’s memory, there was indeed a saying that children who drank milk slept more soundly.

Following Tao Zhixing’s instructions, after Sui Yuesheng arrived at the Tao household, everything was arranged to Tao Fengche’s standards, including the nightly cup of milk. To differentiate, Xu Song even found two different colored cups.

With this train of thought, Tao Fengche recalled a small incident from mid-December that year.

Children always think others’ food tastes better. To Tao Fengche, Sui Yuesheng’s milk was like a rare delicacy.

Out of curiosity, one night, Tao Fengche sneaked into the kitchen, taking a sip of Sui Yuesheng’s milk while the chefs were changing shifts.

He felt guilty, sneaking in, grabbing a white porcelain spoon from the sterilizer, and carefully taking a sip. As soon as it touched his tongue, he spat it out.

—It was too sweet, the cloying sweetness stung his throat, like eating a bowl of maple syrup. It made him nauseous.

This was nothing like he imagined!

Tao Fengche was almost brought to tears by how awful it tasted. He never knew “sweet” could be such a potent weapon. Crying, he ran to Xu Song, asking if he intended to poison his brother.

“Is it because we have no money since brother came? I can eat less.” The little crybaby, eyes brimming with tears, asked.

Xu Song, amused, squatted to eye level with him and explained, “Young master, you misunderstand. Young master Sui likes sweet things. I’ve observed the amount of sugar he adds at breakfast. This is truly his preferred taste.”

“Different people have different tastes. Each has their preferences.”

Tao Fengche, somewhat understanding, recalled that during breakfast, his brother indeed added a lot of sugar to his bread and milk. When he once asked Sui Yuesheng if he wanted coffee beans, his brother’s face showed utter disinterest.

Accepting Xu Song’s explanation reluctantly, he later asked Tao Zhixing, who explained, “Sugar is expensive in your brother’s country. It wasn’t a necessity, and his family couldn’t afford it often.”

But his brother was so generous, Tao Fengche thought, puzzled. At home, snacks were always shared equally between him and Sui Yuesheng, although Tao Zhixing believed too many snacks were unhealthy and limited their amount.

Every time he finished his share and eyed Sui Yuesheng’s, his brother would always share.

…Though his brother would roll his eyes.

Compared to his primary school classmates, who only had him buy snacks to play with them for a while and never shared their food, his brother was far more generous.

How could such a generous brother have a poor family? Little Tao Fengche thought his father was lying.

Since then, he never again sneaked a sip of Sui Yuesheng’s milk.

In hindsight, it was clear his brother had been accommodating him, never holding a grudge. Smiling, Tao Fengche shook his head as he emerged from his memories.

It wasn’t even 5 PM when Tao Fengche arrived home, and the kitchen hadn’t started cooking yet. The chefs stood by silently, watching him in deep thought.

The pot had been on the stove for a while, now emitting white smoke.

Tao Fengche snapped back to reality, instinctively reaching for the oil can and pouring it in.

Hot pot, cold oil. As soon as they met, the oil splattered, causing several chefs to gasp and step back, while Tao Fengche remained unmoved.

The head chef, unable to hold back, gathered his courage to ask, “Young master, are you cooking?”

“Huh?” Tao Fengche was puzzled, “No, I’m heating milk.”

The chefs gasped louder.

A cold sweat dripped from the pastry chef’s forehead as he trembled, “Young master, maybe I should do it…?”

Tao Fengche looked at the pot, then the pastry chef, confused, “Isn’t this the right way? What did I do wrong?”

“You picked the wrong pot,” a weak voice from the crowd said, “That’s a clay pot for soup.”

Tao Fengche: “…”

He paused, put the oil can on the table, and subtly hid it behind him.

The stove finally returned to its rightful owner, and Tao Fengche swore he heard several sighs of relief.

The milk at home had been delivered fresh from the farm that morning. Under Tao Fengche’s watch, the pastry chef took it from the fridge, poured it into a milk pot, and warmed it on low heat until bubbles appeared.

“Young master, it’s ready.”

Tao Fengche stared at the bubbling milk pot, lost in thought, “Add a few spoons of sugar.”

The chef complied, adding two or three spoons, but Tao Fengche frowned, “Not enough.”

So the chef added two more.

“Still not enough.”

“Young master, this…” The chef hesitated. Tao Fengche waved him aside, taking the sugar jar himself.

He poured in sugar generously, the chefs watching in horror. Fearing he didn’t understand the quantities, one chef cautiously spoke up, “Young master, won’t it be too sweet?”

“Will it?” Tao Fengche tilted his head, tasting a spoonful, finding it similar to his memory. Finally satisfied, he stopped.

Turning, he saw the chefs’ complex expressions and chuckled, “Why are you looking at me like that? He likes sweets.”

He explained, and the chefs nodded, not daring to ask who “he” was.

Not getting a response, Tao Fengche realized the staff had changed, so he said no more.

“Keep the milk warm,” he instructed.

Unknowingly, it was nearly 6 PM. In about an hour, Sui Yuesheng would be home. Tao Fengche ordered the chefs to start cooking and left the kitchen to find Xu Song.

“Uncle Xu!” He called Xu Song, hesitating inexplicably, “I… I made a cup of milk for my brother in the kitchen. Can you take it to him before he goes to bed?”

“Should I tell the young master that you prepared it for him?”

“…No, just give it to him directly.” Tao Fengche shook his head.

What a stubborn kid, Xu Song thought to himself, nodding with a smile.

Around midnight, Xu Song went to the kitchen to get the milk. He declined the help of the servants and personally brought it to Sui Yuesheng’s room.

“Knock, knock, knock.”

At the sound of the knocking, Sui Yuesheng looked up, “Come in.”

He had rare free time today, so after washing up, he got into bed and started reading some parenting books he had specifically bought.

Seeing Xu Song enter the room, he was visibly surprised, “Uncle Xu? What’s the matter?”

He had thought it might be Tao Fengche, who had finally learned to knock, coming to explore his room… Sui Yuesheng felt a subtle disappointment.

“I brought you some milk,” Xu Song approached and handed him the cup.

“What made you think of this suddenly?” Sui Yuesheng laughed. He was already an adult; why was he being treated like a child?

Xu Song smiled without saying a word.

Seeing the expression on Xu Song’s face, Sui Yuesheng suddenly had a bold guess. He decisively reached out and took the cup, drinking a sip.

The milk was warm, and it tasted overly sweet, as if sugar had been added liberally.

Actually, he wasn’t as fond of sweets as he had been in his youth. But he still slowly drank all the milk and then held the cup tightly in his hands.

“It was Xiao Che who asked you to bring this, right?” Though it was phrased as a question, he spoke with certainty.

Xu Song nodded, a bit helpless, “Yes, he was watching in the kitchen for a long time, and he added a lot of sugar.”

“Only he would put granulated sugar in milk,” Sui Yuesheng couldn’t hold back a comment, then handed the cup back to Xu Song.

“Shall I leave now?” the latter asked.

Sui Yuesheng nodded, and Xu Song quietly left, gently closing the door behind him.

Sui Yuesheng sat quietly for a while. After the cloying sweetness in his mouth had dissipated, he went to the bathroom to rinse his mouth. Passing by the cabinet to take some melatonin, he paused for a moment and eventually withdrew his hand.

He turned off the lights and went to bed, having a rare good dream.

In his dream, he returned to ten years ago, with a young Tao Fengche holding a giant cotton candy, saying he wanted to share it with him.

He crouched down, took the candy, and kissed Tao Fengche on the cheek.

It was hard to say which felt better, the little crybaby or the cotton candy. It was also hard to say if the milk was what helped him sleep, but that night Sui Yuesheng fell asleep quickly. When he woke at dawn, the smile on his lips lingered for a long time.