Xia Jiao assessed the situation and, after weighing the pros and cons, decided she definitely couldn’t add any more meals.

She quickly dashed off to find the first aid kit at home. Band-aids, cotton swabs, antiseptic iodine—everything was well-stocked. She hopped over and gestured for Wen Chongyue to extend his hand.

Perhaps due to their age difference, Wen Chongyue thought of his wife as quite young. As the only son in his family, he was the oldest among his peers and naturally took on the responsibilities of an older brother. Xia Jiao was much younger than him, and subconsciously, Wen Chongyue viewed her as someone who needed care and attention.

When Xia Jiao brought the first aid kit over, Wen Chongyue instinctively extended his hand, saying, “I’ll do it.”

“No,” Xia Jiao decisively refused. She leaned closer, grasping Wen Chongyue’s wrist and pulling it toward her. “Your hand is bleeding!”

Most girls from Jiangnan, like Xia Jiao, were petite, with small faces and delicate hands and feet.

Wen Chongyue watched as she dipped a cotton swab in iodine and, biting her lip in concentration, carefully cleaned the cut on his finger and applied a band-aid.

It was just a minor injury, but Xia Jiao treated it as if it were something serious.

Seeing her being so cautious made Wen Chongyue unable to help but smile as he reassured her, “It’s fine, it’ll heal on its own soon.”

“Not necessarily,” Xia Jiao shook her head. “What if it gets infected?”

“The chances are very low.”

“No, no.”

As she fretted, Xia Jiao couldn’t help but glance toward the kitchen. An idea struck her: “I’ll cook lunch today, and you will give me the direction. With your injury, you shouldn’t be handling any of this, especially the meat. There could be a lot of bacteria…”

Wen Chongyue was both amused and exasperated. “It’s just a small cut, not an amputation.”

“You should rest,” Xia Jiao said as she stood up and tidied the first aid kit. “I’m a very cautious person.”

Wen Chongyue chuckled. “It seems I need to buy myself a hefty medical insurance policy. Otherwise, it’s hard to put my wife at ease.”

Xia Jiao scoffed, seriously warning him, “Teacher Wen, don’t joke around.”

She insisted on not letting Wen Chongyue lift a finger and took the lead in making steamed roasted meat under his guidance.

Fortunately, Wen Chongyue had already taken out and washed the necessary utensils, and all the ingredients were prepared. All he had to do was instruct her step by step while she handled the cooking.

According to the traditional method of steaming roasted meat, it needed to be steamed immediately after the surface began to bubble to maximize the moisture returned to the dehydrated roasted meat. Unfortunately, that step could no longer be followed. Wen Chongyue told her the method: “Cut the roasted meat into lengths of about 15 centimeters—”

Xia Jiao looked confused. “How big is 15 cm?”

Wen Chongyue thought for a moment and replied, “About the same size as the toy you unboxed yesterday.”

Xia Jiao corrected him, “That was my paper cutout of an old—”

Wen Chongyue, wearing a light gray T-shirt that did nothing to diminish his elegant demeanor, asked with a smirk, “Old what?”

Xia Jiao quickly changed her wording. “—my old male god’s cotton doll.”

With a swift motion, Xia Jiao skillfully sliced the meat and placed it in the steamer to begin steaming. It would take at least an hour. Wen Chongyue set the timer and was about to speak when his phone rang again.

Xia Jiao turned sideways and asked seriously, “Don’t you need to answer it?”

She never asked who was calling.

“It’s a family member I don’t want to see,” Wen Chongyue replied.

Xia Jiao fell silent as she turned on the faucet, washing her hands under the rushing water.

The ringing stopped abruptly.

Still thinking about the fresh shepherd’s purse she had, Xia Jiao grabbed an egg just as Wen Chongyue said, “The cat shelter’s BR just contacted me.”

“Really?” Xia Jiao, with her hands still wet, suddenly remembered, “Is it the Persian cat?”

She loved white long-haired cats, and two days ago, Wen Chongyue had paid a deposit for a Persian cat at the shelter. They were expecting to bring it home this winter.

“A customer canceled their order due to family changes,” Wen Chongyue explained.

He brought his phone closer, bending down to show Xia Jiao. When she saw the cat, her eyes sparkled. It had green eyes, with lovely dark eyeliner framing its round face and a fluffy coat.

“It’s so beautiful!” she exclaimed.

Wen Chongyue asked for her opinion, “If you want this one, we can bring it home next week.”

Xia Jiao eagerly nodded.

Xia Mi had finished its canned food and nudged Xia Jiao’s foot with its head. Its fluffy little tail curled up, soft as a dragonfly’s tail skimming the water’s surface.

Xia Jiao pondered, “Since Xia Mi takes my surname, should this cat take yours? Is it male or female?”

“It can,” Wen Chongyue typed on his phone, and after a moment, told her, “It’s male.”

“Then if it takes your surname, it’s a male…” Xia Jiao thought aloud, “How about we name it ‘Wen Quandan’? I love eating soft-boiled eggs!”

Wen Chongyue smiled approvingly, “Perfect. But I should remind you that, technically, the cat is a neutered male.”

Neutered male.

No balls.

Xia Jiao, holding the egg, went blank for a moment.

There was a brief silence.

With a crack, she broke the egg and tentatively asked, “So we can call it… Wen Quan?”

Wen Chongyue paused for a second, then replied without missing a beat, “Very fitting.”

With the head chef injured, lunch wasn’t as plentiful as usual. Xia Jiao had limited skills, and Wen Chongyue didn’t want her to learn too much; it was enough to have one person who could cook at home.

Xia Jiao wasn’t lying, she could make egg pancakes.

The egg mixture, kissed by the hot olive oil, turned golden brown, adorned with bright green shepherd’s purse—the freshest wild vegetable of spring, each bite bursting with fragrant essence.

The meat, roasted over a fire, slowly absorbed moisture in the steamer. The fat and lean parts blended perfectly, crispy yet tender, rich without being greasy.

The steaming pot held tender yellow-heart cabbage, layered on a white porcelain plate. The meat was cut into neat slices, arranged beautifully alongside chive flowers, shredded green onions, and fermented tofu—the chopping was still done by Wen Chongyue, as Xia Jiao’s skills weren’t quite there yet.

In addition, there was a tofu and sweet wormwood hotpot, a dish Xia Jiao had invented in college: slices of old tofu, tender sweet wormwood stalks, fragrant mushrooms, and konjac flour simmered with soy sauce, sugar, and water in a small pot.

At dinner, Xia Jiao anxiously awaited Wen Chongyue, her eyes sparkling as she watched him.

Wen Chongyue took a bite, and she leaned over the table, repeatedly asking, “Is it good?”

With a smile, he replied, “It’s great.”

Xia Jiao sighed with relief, plopping back into her seat, propping her chin in her hands, her eyes bright, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders.

“That’s good to hear,” she said.

Wen Chongyue paused with his chopsticks.

Xia Jiao eagerly dug into the hotpot, egg pancake, and steamed meat.

This was her first time tasting this method of preparing the meat, and she couldn’t stop praising it. Yet, Wen Chongyue realized something.

His wife was someone who sought validation through the eyes of others.

She did well, but she still hesitated, carefully confirming her success through others’ evaluations.

Wen Chongyue said nothing, maintaining a calm expression as he chatted with Xia Jiao about work and future plans.

After finishing the konjac flour, Xia Jiao lowered her head, thinking, “In a couple of days, I’ll try submitting my resume.”

Although she had a bit of procrastination, she hadn’t delayed this task and quickly finished her resume. That night, after Xia Jiao had fallen asleep on the bed, Wen Chongyue used his tablet to review it, making a few simple edits and polishing some sections.

It was now ten o’clock at night. Wen Chongyue had gone to the bathroom outside, sat quietly on the balcony for a while, and noticed Xia Mi had already curled up and fallen asleep. The little tabby cat didn’t like the nests Xia Jiao had carefully prepared. It preferred to snuggle in a corner of the sofa.

After thinking for a while, Wen Chongyue opened his phone contacts and called Bai Ruolang from the list.

It connected quickly.

“Chongyue,” the woman on the other end didn’t seem surprised by his call at this hour, “What are your thoughts on the blind date with the girl from Uncle Tong’s family?”

Wen Chongyue stood on the balcony.

Through the transparent floor-to-ceiling windows, he could clearly see the lake surface, where the thin ice was gradually melting. The streetlights were quiet, and the winter night was cold, with few pedestrians outside.

In the corner of the balcony, in the most unremarkable spot that didn’t get sunlight, was a small moss bonsai that Xia Jiao had meticulously cared for, a soft patch of green.

This little plant was like her: quietly enjoying itself, not wanting to bask in the sun or be under too much scrutiny.

But moss had its own unique charm.

Though moss flowers were tiny, they still emulated the blooming of peonies.

Wen Chongyue held the phone, speaking calmly, “I’m already married, so you don’t need to worry about me, Mom.”

Inside the Bedroom

Xia Jiao felt as if her entire skeletal structure had been taken apart. Her arms and legs were uncomfortably sore, especially since she couldn’t seem to close them together without discomfort. After trying to sleep on her stomach for a while, she was unfortunately woken up by the noisy ringtone of her phone.

With bleary eyes, Xia Jiao struggled to reach for her phone, a throbbing pain pulsing at her temples, and she felt completely drained of energy.

The pain intensified when she saw the caller ID on the screen.

It was her supervisor.

Xia Jiao weakly said, “Hello.”

“Why did you go to bed so early today?” The other person sounded surprised. “It’s not even ten o’clock yet.”

Xia Jiao lowered her head in disappointment. “The doctor said I have a bit of nervous exhaustion and recommended that I get more sleep.”

She believed the other person would understand the implications of her words, but unfortunately, in the eyes of a leader, as long as an employee didn’t collapse at work, they would be expected to work themselves to the bone. What personal time? After hours, WeChat and phone calls were still impossible to refuse.

Her supervisor said, “That’s fine. I’ll just say a few things, you just listen.”

Xia Jiao replied with a grunt.

“Tomorrow night at eight, we’re still having dinner with President Song. This time—”

Xia Jiao interrupted, “Which President Song?”

“Song Zhaocong, did you forget?”

Xia Jiao was taken aback. “Didn’t we already sign the contract?”

“There’s still a supplementary agreement he hasn’t signed. He’s delayed for a week,” her supervisor explained. “It’s nothing serious, just checking in with him.”

Xia Jiao remained silent. She placed her phone back on the bed and kept her position, listening on her stomach.

After waiting for a minute, her supervisor sighed. “Xiao Xia, do you remember when you first joined the company? You hadn’t even graduated from college yet. You were an intern and made a lot of mistakes. I was the one who covered for you.”

Xia Jiao didn’t respond.

It wasn’t that she didn’t feel grateful, but did being grateful mean she had to constantly go along with things she didn’t like?

Her supervisor continued, “Why did I do it? It was because I believed in you. Now is the best time—”

Suddenly, a pair of long hands reached for the phone on the bed.

Xia Jiao looked up and saw Wen Chongyue standing there in his pajamas.

Only two soft bedside lamps were turned on in the bedroom, casting a warm yellow glow across the floor.

Wen Chongyue stood by the bed, holding the phone, and spoke gently into it. “Sorry, Xia Jiao isn’t feeling well. She needs to rest.”

Xia Jiao heard her supervisor’s puzzled voice coming from the phone. “Who are you?”

Xia Jiao pushed herself up on her hands and said, “Don’t worry about who he is.”

“Supervisor,” she said loudly for the first time during the call, “I’m quitting!”