Chapter 25: Cooking

Pan Yuecheng wrapped his arms around his wife’s thin shoulders.
“Min’er, you really don’t have to feel so pressured. I won’t force you.”

All the color had drained from Jiang Min’s face as her tone turned cold.
“You’re not pressuring me, but won’t your parents? Even some barely literate village women here dare to mock me. When have I, Jiang Min, ever been so humiliated?”

Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes and spilled out.

She and Pan Yuecheng were childhood sweethearts, naturally getting married when they grew up. The first few years were genuinely sweet and happy.
But they hadn’t had children for years, and the pressure started to mount—from parents, relatives, even strangers. Jiang Min was prideful and always told people they weren’t in a rush, but deep down, she was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan. The couple had fought over this a few times.

If she wasn’t so concerned about appearances, she would’ve argued with them yesterday.
That Lian Yuqing, while not the most impressive person, at least lived freely and confidently.

Pan Yuecheng said softly, “Then from now on, I’ll just tell them it’s me who doesn’t want kids yet, how about that?”

Jiang Min silently shed tears as he pulled her into an even tighter embrace.

…

Last night, Lian Yuqing had signed up for the rotation schedule, and Wei Dong agreed—but there was no food at home.

After returning from training in the morning, Wei Dong asked a few of the wives downstairs and bought some vegetables from them.

Since everyone lived in the same compound, they refused to take his money. After all, it was just vegetables, not meat—no one felt right charging him.

Wei Dong kept note of the favor. He knew it would have to be repaid.

After he left, people started gossiping behind his back.

“That woman in his house knows how to cook?”

“He came to get all the vegetables himself, you think she’s the one cooking?”

“That man works hard all day and still has to cook for her after work? She really thinks she’s some kind of pampered rich girl!”

Someone spoke in a sour tone, and another woman said, “Well, if her man’s willing to serve her, what’s it to you?”

“Pfft.”

Wei Dong brought the vegetables home. Lian Yuqing was still in bed. He made himself breakfast, and before leaving, he wrote a note and stuck it right on her forehead to make sure she’d see it.

When Lian Yuqing opened her eyes, the note blocked her vision. She pulled it off and almost laughed out of frustration.

The handwriting was neat, but the content—

“Wash the vegetables before I come home at noon.”

Hmph. She threw the note aside, annoyed.

The clock in the living room struck 11. In another half hour, Wei Dong would be back.

Ten minutes later, she got up reluctantly, went into the kitchen, bent over to dig through the bag, and started putting the vegetables into the sink.

“Wei Dong, you better be a good cook, or else…”

The chili pepper she just snapped the stem off from—that’s what’s going to happen to him.

This time, when Wei Dong opened the door, the house wasn’t quiet. The sound of running water came from the kitchen.

He raised an eyebrow. She was actually washing the vegetables.

“Hey Wei Dong! The veggies are done—come cook!”
Lian Yuqing’s head popped out from the kitchen, her tone leaving no room for refusal.

He strode over in long strides. The leafy greens had been torn and stacked into the enamel basin, water droplets still glistening on them.

Long green and red chilies, de-stemmed, were lined up neatly on a plate—if one ignored the puddle of water on the floor and her soaked clothes.

As soon as Wei Dong entered the kitchen, the space felt cramped, leaving no room to even turn around.

“Peel some garlic.”

He put the pot under the tap to rinse it. But after waiting a while and not hearing a response, he turned to look at her.

Lian Yuqing frowned. “I don’t want to peel garlic. I don’t have gloves, and then my hands will smell like garlic for the rest of the day—it won’t even wash off.”

Forget it. No garlic, then.

“Such a diva.”

Lian Yuqing leaned against the doorframe and shrugged, “So what if I am?”

After a while, Wei Dong said, “Can’t cook.”

“Why not?” Lian Yuqing got anxious. She had washed those vegetables carefully for ages—her back ached, her clothes were soaked, and she was starving.

“No oil.”

They hadn’t cooked at home before, so she’d never thought about buying oil.

“So what now?” she asked.

“Go next door and borrow some.”

“Alright.” She grabbed the oil container and trotted out. Wei Dong grabbed a mop to clean up the water on the floor.

When she reached the door, it suddenly hit her:
Why does he get to order me around?

But eating was more important. She quickly knocked on the neighbor’s door.

She politely and sweetly explained her situation. The neighbor hesitated a bit.

After all, Lian Yuqing had made a name for herself with her “legendary scene” the other night. Everyone in the housing compound knew about it.

“Wei Dong’s going to buy oil in the next few days. We’ll return it the first chance we get,” she explained patiently.

The neighbor finally took her container and filled it.

Before she left, she smiled brightly. “Thank you!”

Just then, she bumped into Cheng Weiwei coming up the stairs.

Cheng was clearly surprised and greeted her as if nothing had happened.
“Sis-in-law, borrowing oil? Just come to my place next time, take as much as you want.”

Lian Yuqing ignored her completely and turned around, slamming the door shut behind her.

She handed the oil to Wei Dong and asked, “Can we cook now?”

“We can.”

This nearly 1.9-meter-tall man squeezed into the kitchen wearing a floral apron—an unexpectedly cute sight.

Lian Yuqing was already seated at the dining table in the living room, waiting. Thankfully, Wei Dong was quick in the kitchen, and the dishes weren’t complicated. In less than twenty minutes, everything was ready.

Smelling the freshly cooked food, Lian Yuqing knew it would be good. She eagerly picked up her chopsticks.

She grabbed a piece of golden-fried egg and put it in her mouth—only to burn her tongue and wince in pain.

Once the food cooled a bit, she buried her head in her bowl. Wei Dong didn’t eat right away; instead, he watched her.

He was a little surprised. These dishes weren’t anything special, aside from the eggs being a bit more precious.
And yet, she was clearly enjoying it.

He had assumed Lian Yuqing only liked meat dishes.

“The chili’s a little spicy, but it tastes great. The greens are cooked perfectly, really crisp—not overcooked at all,” she said after a sip of water. “Didn’t expect you to have some cooking skills.”

Wei Dong wanted to say—these were just basic home-cooked dishes, even ten-year-olds in the village could make them.

Then he asked, “For this month’s grain quota—do you want flour, coarse grain, or rice?”

“Rice. I’m not used to flour-based food.”

He made a mental note. Flour and coarse grains would get them 50 jin, but rice only got them 35. That wouldn’t be enough. He’d have to find someone to trade with later.

The two of them polished off the two dishes, the soup, and all the rice from the lunch box. Wei Dong automatically got up to do the dishes.

There was no way Lian Yuqing would wash them.

After a while, she came over and asked,
“So, can I go out during the day?”

“You can. Just be back before 6 p.m.”

She’d been tagging along with the military for a while now. Sleeping all day might be relaxing, but it was also anxiety-inducing.

She’d promised she was getting divorced. If she didn’t start making money, she’d just end up mooching here forever.

Wei Dong washed the dishes and went back to the bedroom.

They had a two-hour rest break at noon. He was like a robot—never seemed to get tired. She had never seen him nap.

He was reading a book. Curious and a little bored, Lian Yuqing walked over to see what kind of book it was.