Volume 1 Chapter 8: The Devoted Believer

She wanted to take a bite.

This thought suddenly surfaced in Qin Ya’s mind.

Before Qin Ya could react, Shi Jianchuan took a step back, avoiding contact with her.

He averted his gaze from Qin Ya.

His voice was hoarser than before as he said, “Let me do it. You’ve never been in the kitchen before and don’t know how to use these things.”

Qin Ya responded weakly, “Oh.”

She stepped back, making room for Shi Jianchuan.

Shi Jianchuan’s face returned to its usual cold and distant expression.

As Qin Ya watched, her mind was filled with one thought: So aloof, and she loved it.

Buttoned up so high—was he afraid she’d do something?  

That was just too formal.  

They were practically an old married couple already. Why stand on ceremony?  

She really wanted to undo that button, to tear away that cold and distant facade and see if he was just as icy deep down.  

But after all that thinking, Qin Ya only dared to stand obediently in the corner without moving.  

Last time, it was her forceful advances that led them to divorce. This time, she absolutely couldn’t repeat the same mistake.  

She wiped away her drool instead. She’d have to try the “boiling a frog in warm water” approach.  

Qin Ya stayed quiet for a while.  

Shi Jianchuan’s eyelashes flickered slightly. “I’m not blaming you. You didn’t know these things before. We have a housekeeper—you don’t need to do this.”  

This was the longest sentence Shi Jianchuan had spoken to Qin Ya since her amnesia.  

Qin Ya leaned in again. “I don’t know how, but you can teach me. I’m so smart, I’ll definitely learn.”  

“Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll become a master chef, the kind who cooks really well.”  

Shi Jianchuan neither agreed nor refused.  

But he took out another bundle of noodles and lit the stove.  

Qin Ya volunteered to wash the vegetables, only to discard half the edible leaves.  

Then she volunteered to chop them, at least managing not to cut her own fingers.  

But the tomatoes she sliced ended up in wildly uneven pieces—some huge, others tiny.  

She even wanted to fry the eggs herself, but when the oil in the pan sizzled and a drop splashed out, she jumped back in fright.  

Qin Ya’s culinary journey ended before it even properly began.  

After bustling around the kitchen, she finally watched as Shi Jianchuan cooked a perfect bowl of tomato and egg noodles, fragrant and appetizing.  

Like a little shadow, she followed him in and out.  

When Shi Jianchuan carried the bowl out, she hovered protectively beside him, as if afraid he might drop it.  

When he turned back to the kitchen, she followed.  

Shi Jianchuan brought out the dishes left by the housekeeper.  

Qin Ya reached out at the right moment, but he didn’t hand them to her, carrying them out himself instead.  

She trailed after him.  

Once everything was laid out on the table, Qin Ya let out a long sigh.  

“Cooking is really not easy. It’s exhausting.”  

A faint, deeply ingrained tenderness flickered in Shi Jianchuan’s eyes.  

He pushed the bowl of tomato and egg noodles toward Qin Ya. “Eat.”  

“This is for me?”  

Qin Ya’s doe eyes widened, round and adorable.  

Only then did she realize she was a little hungry.  

She’d been so absorbed in painting that afternoon that she’d only eaten a little, and now her stomach was protesting.  

The aroma made her even hungrier.  

As she pulled the bowl toward herself, she feigned reluctance. “This is so embarrassing. What will you eat?”  

Shi Jianchuan placed the reheated dishes in front of himself, answering her question with action.

The food prepared by the aunt was delicious too, but Qin Ya wasn’t sure if it was because she’d eaten too much of this style before or something else.  

Compared to those fancy grilled steaks, she still preferred this bowl of noodles cooked by Shi Jianchuan.  

The moment she took a bite, Qin Ya was instantly moved to tears.  

Her eyes narrowed in satisfaction.  

“Shi Jianchuan, you’re really amazing! Even noodles can be made this delicious!”  

Shi Jianchuan ate quietly, not picky at all—he ate everything, unlike Qin Ya, who wouldn’t even touch things she disliked.  

“Considering this bowl of noodles, I’ve decided to forgive you for not picking me up from the hospital today.”  

Shi Jianchuan: “I was in a meeting. A bit busy.”  

“But didn’t you even notice I was angry? I didn’t message you for four whole hours!”  

Well, actually, she had been too absorbed in drawing to pull herself away, but she didn’t mind pinning the blame on Shi Jianchuan.  

Qin Ya’s eyes curved into crescents. “I’m magnanimous and won’t hold it against you. Just remember to reply to my messages in the future.”  

Qin Ya was talkative—the dining table was filled almost entirely with her voice, occasionally punctuated by a word or two from Shi Jianchuan.  

The noodles had been cooked a little too much. After eating half, Qin Ya couldn’t finish the rest.  

She wanted to put down her chopsticks but felt a little guilty about wasting Shi Jianchuan’s effort—and her own.  

She ate slower and slower, her delicate little face showing a hint of resignation.  

After finishing his own portion, Shi Jianchuan naturally took Qin Ya’s bowl and continued eating without a word.  

Qin Ya’s face flushed slightly. “That’s the part I already ate.”  

Shi Jianchuan: “When I was little, we were poor. We only got to eat like this during the New Year. Even if food fell on the ground, we’d wash it off and eat it.”  

He sat there, calmly recounting those hardships.  

Qin Ya knew he’d had a difficult childhood, but she hadn’t realized it was this bad.  

Her heart ached a little for him.  

After holding it in for a moment, she finally managed to say, “Now you can eat whatever you want. If it’s not enough, I’ll buy more for you.”  

Qin Ya wasn’t sure how much money she had, but she probably wasn’t short on funds, right?  

Just watching Shi Jianchuan eat was a pleasure in itself.  

From this angle, Qin Ya could clearly see the small mole on the side of his nose bridge.  

It swayed slightly with his movements.  

Dazzlingly alluring.  

His profile was just as striking—his tall, straight nose and sharply defined jawline, every contour as if meticulously carved by the gods.  

His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.  

His fingers were long too.  

Damn it! What was the difference between this and a eunuch visiting a brothel?  

He wouldn’t even let her touch him, keeping his distance as if afraid she’d contaminate him. Why not just draw a line around himself? There was an outfit she’d seen earlier that would suit him perfectly for going out.  

Qin Ya flared up in anger—then flared right back down.  

She stood up, smiling brightly. “Do you want blueberries or grapes? There are also cherries in the fridge—want some?”  

Shi Jianchuan: “Either is fine.”  

Only after Qin Ya had skipped away cheerfully did the light in Shi Jianchuan’s eyes soften layer by layer, lingering on her retreating figure, unwilling to let go for even a second.  

But soon, as if remembering something, his gaze turned cold again.  

His lips pressed against the rim of the bowl where Qin Ya had just touched, sealing perfectly against it.  

He didn’t want to miss even a trace of her presence.  

Beneath his long, curled lashes, turbulent emotions churned.  

Like the most devoted believer, he followed the traces Qin Ya had left behind, covering them one by one.

Even with amnesia, she still liked this type.  

Shi Jianchuan felt a chill deep in his bones.  

So what if she liked the facade he had crafted?  

The prey had fallen into his hands—this time, he would never let go.