Yan Xi’s body was truly delicate, weaker than even Lin Daiyu.

After nearly drowning and being frightened, she had finally come down with a fever.

Luckily, Shu Yue had brought her some cold medicine. After taking a dose, Yan Xi skipped dinner and collapsed into bed, falling into a deep, restless sleep.

Her dreams were fragmented and unsettling:

One moment, she dreamt of Lu Huaichen laughing triumphantly, throwing a wild dance party on her grave.

Next, she saw the original owner of her body, Cheng Yanxi, blaming her. “You borrowed my identity and promised to take care of Gu Qinghan for me, yet you’ve done nothing.”

Finally, she dreamt of the child she never had the chance to meet. The chubby little figure waved at her, smiling brightly. “Mommy, you have to be happy. In the next life, I’ll still be your child.”

Yan Xi woke up sobbing, her eyes swollen like peaches.

She was the type of person who always put on a strong front, never admitting her pain. Even though she felt like her heart had been shattered into a thousand pieces, she pretended to be indifferent, as if nothing could touch her.

She tried to console herself. It’s better this way. The child has gone to a better family.

But deep down, she was in agony. If only she could turn back time, she would do anything to save that child.

After crying herself out, Yan Xi felt slightly better and began to analyze her dreams.

The first dream? She didn’t even want to think about it.

The second dream… Well, it did make her feel a little guilty. After all, she had borrowed someone else’s identity; she owed them something in return. Yan Xi decided she should try to repay that debt—perhaps by being a little nicer to Gu Qinghan.

As for the third dream—

No. She couldn’t bear to dwell on it. The pain was too much.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she went to the bathroom to wash her face, trying to reduce the swelling. That’s when her stomach growled loudly.

She was starving.

Only then did she remember that she hadn’t eaten lunch or dinner. Her stomach was empty, and now it was cramping and churning with acid.

Food. I need food!

Although it was already midnight, her hunger could not be ignored.

The Gu household was silent, everyone fast asleep. Yan Xi had no choice but to sneak into the kitchen herself.

After searching high and low, she couldn’t find any ready-to-eat food—not even milk.

With no other options, she decided to cook something.

Yan Xi, as a pampered socialite, rarely set foot in the kitchen. Before marrying Lu Huaichen, she hadn’t even known how to turn on a stove.

After their marriage, she had been eager to learn how to cook, thinking she could make soups to show her care.

But every time she made something, Lu Huaichen refused to even take a sip.

She still remembered the scene vividly: the man standing by the window, dressed in a crisp white shirt, his gentle features glowing in the sunlight. He looked so warm and approachable, but the words he spoke were ice-cold:

“Su Yanxi, you don’t need to do these things for me. Not only does it fail to move me, but it also feels burdensome.”

How ironic. Her affection was a burden to him.

If someone doesn’t like you, nothing you do will ever change their mind.

After that, Yan Xi never stepped into a kitchen again.

But now, things were different. She was no longer the beloved Mrs. Lu, but a neglected outsider in Gu Qinghan’s home. She couldn’t boss the staff around, so she had to rely on herself.

Using her phone, she looked up a tutorial and followed the steps to make herself a bowl of instant noodles with tomatoes, eggs, and some leafy greens.

It smells amazing!

Yan Xi was practically drooling. To her, this was the best bowl of noodles in the world.

She was just about to dig in when she noticed the faint light coming from Gu Qinghan’s study upstairs.

He’s still awake.

The original owner had wanted her to treat Gu Qinghan well. Should she bring him some late-night food?

But there wasn’t much in her bowl, and she was reluctant to share even a single bite.

Gritting her teeth, Yan Xi reluctantly took out a small portion and put it in another bowl.

As she divided the noodles, she comforted herself: There’s no way he’ll eat this. He hates me. In the end, I’ll get to eat it anyway. This is just for show.

Gu Qinghan was in his study, reading over some documents, when he heard a knock at the door.

His eyes immediately darkened, a storm brewing in his gaze.

It’s her again.

Suppressing the irritation rising in his chest, Gu Qinghan closed his eyes briefly to calm himself. He didn’t want to deal with her, but it wasn’t the right time to get rid of her completely.

The woman was testing his patience. He had explicitly said he didn’t want to see her for three months, yet here she was, disturbing him in the middle of the night.

Fine. Let’s see what excuse she has this time.

When he opened the door, what greeted him wasn’t Yan Xi’s usual face. Instead, it was a grotesque mask—one that looked like a demon.

Even Gu Qinghan, who prided himself on his composure, felt his heart skip a beat.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed, his voice icy. If looks could kill, she’d already be dead.

Yan Xi shifted awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, you said you didn’t want to see my face. So I covered it. Do you like this mask? If not, I can change it.”

“Get out,” Gu Qinghan growled, his voice laced with suppressed rage.

“I brought you some late-night snacks,” Yan Xi said, holding up a tiny bowl of instant noodles. “I was worried you’d upset your stomach working late. If you get stomach cancer, that’d be terrible.”

Her tone was so earnest that it bordered on absurd.

“You’re so considerate,” Gu Qinghan said through gritted teeth, his jaw tight.

“No need to thank me. That’s just the kind of person I am.”

Gu Qinghan: “…”

Who’s thanking you?

His sharp eyes flicked to the bowl in her hands. It wasn’t much—just some instant noodles, garnished with a bit of tomato and egg. The portion was pitifully small. Compared to the expensive soups and stews others had brought him in the past, this was laughably meager.

The whole thing reeked of insincerity.

Gu Qinghan’s gaze returned to Yan Xi, studying her carefully.

Was she trying to give up? Had she finally realized that pursuing him was futile?

But as his eyes traveled down, they stopped at her feet.

She was wearing black silk slippers, the delicate fabric contrasting starkly with her pale skin. Her toes were painted a deep crimson, the color vibrant against the black and white.

The combination was striking—pure yet seductive.

For a brief moment, Gu Qinghan’s gaze lingered. Then, just as quickly, his expression turned cold.

Pathetic. She’s still trying to seduce me.

Disgusting.