Chapter 3

Chi Zhihan became a renowned food video blogger primarily because of her clean and efficient cooking style.

First, she would tie her long hair into a bun, then put on a hat and mask, fasten her apron, and finally wash her hands.

She used different colored disposable gloves for different tasks: red for cutting meat, blue for seafood, green for fruits and vegetables, and white for kneading dough. Her movements were smooth and uninterrupted, and her cutting board and kitchen remained spotlessly clean throughout the process.

After starting to cook, Chi Zhihan never glanced at the camera again. Since Qi Ning was also watching the surveillance feed with Qi Cheng, his symptoms didn’t worsen beyond the cold sweat.

Gradually, he found himself genuinely captivated by Chi Zhihan’s cooking style.

Her first step was surprisingly to prepare roast duck. She took out a duck that had been marinated and air-dried for over twelve hours with a mixture of oyster sauce, Sichuan pepper powder, and five-spice powder. She skillfully mixed a glaze of honey, vinegar, and light soy sauce, evenly coating the duck before placing it into a preheated oven.

Then she switched to white gloves and began kneading dough.

Making hand-pulled noodles with the right texture required strength. After adding the perfect ratio of cold water and eggs, the slender Chi Zhihan stood on her tiptoes and began kneading vigorously.

Qi Cheng shifted uneasily in his recliner.

“She’s working hard to secure this job,” Qi Ning said calmly beside him. “The more challenging your requirements, the more opportunities she has to showcase her skills.”

Qi Ning knew Qi Cheng felt guilty for setting such a difficult task, especially after witnessing the effort Chi Zhihan put into it.

For someone with social anxiety disorder, this scene was akin to torture.

Of course, Qi Ning also knew her words offered little comfort to Qi Cheng. All she could do was pour him a glass of water to prevent dehydration from excessive sweating.

“Do you think we’re being too harsh on you?” Qi Cheng was six years younger than her, practically raised under her watch. When he first developed his condition, she was studying abroad. By the time she returned, her once cheerful and affectionate younger brother had become a psychological recluse who only felt safe sleeping in closets.

She couldn’t help but feel soft-hearted, especially seeing him drenched in sweat yet still insisting on sitting there.

But she wanted him to return to his old self even more—not necessarily as sunny as before, but at least not like this, yearning for human connection yet only able to observe from behind a screen.

“No,” Qi Cheng took a sip of water and forced a bitter smile. “Having a treatment plan is better than despair.”

At least it meant his family hadn’t given up on him.

Though deep down, he still believed he was beyond saving.

…

While the dough rested, Chi Zhihan prepared a vegetarian broth using red and white radishes, sugarcane, corn, cabbage, and bean sprouts. She stood still for a moment, lost in thought.

She had no idea about the interviewer’s taste preferences or dietary restrictions, nor did she fully understand what “Spring noodles that don’t taste like spring noodles” truly meant. Logically, she should prepare something that looked identical to spring noodles but tasted entirely different.

Initially, she had planned to use minced fish paste to make the noodles, making them fundamentally different from the start.

But as she began cooking, she suddenly changed her mind.

After repeating the interviewer’s words dozens of times in her head, she decided to stick with regular noodles as the main component.

A bowl of spring noodles that didn’t taste like spring noodles should still be noodles at its core.

This last-minute change was so radical that she felt uncertain and worried that Lin Jingwu would scold her if he found out.

Regretting her impulsive decision, Chi Zhihan couldn’t help but glance at the camera again.

Neither Qi Cheng nor Qi Ning expected the seemingly confident and methodical Chi Zhihan to suddenly pause and look at the camera. Qi Ning quickly stood up to block the monitor, fearing that Chi Zhihan’s unexpected action might cause Qi Cheng to completely withdraw.

But surprisingly, Qi Cheng sat up straight, staring at the screen with a strange light in his eyes.

…

Qi Ning felt uneasy about Qi Cheng’s unusual reaction, even considering for the first time whether she should back out. Perhaps following their older brother’s advice and sending Qi Cheng back to Dr. Zhao for treatment would be the safer option.

“Her expression just now…” Qi Cheng looked up at Qi Ning, his voice urgent with excitement, “is exactly like the protagonist’s expression in my manga.”

In his manga, the protagonist had repeatedly failed in cooking competitions due to sabotage. In the final elimination round, when he made a last-minute decision to abandon his safe choice for a risky strategy, there was a panel with exactly this kind of expression.

He had never been satisfied with that scene, unable to capture the character’s emotions properly, stuck on it for a long time.

He never expected to see it in real life.

Qi Cheng quickly took a screenshot, zooming in on Chi Zhihan’s face with its cap and mask. Her slightly upturned, clear black-and-white round eyes now betrayed both guilt and ambition.

Taking a risky path because of absolute determination to succeed.

It was an enlightening moment, a perfect match.

In his excitement, he even forgot whether he was still sweating.

“I’m going to my studio,” Qi Cheng said, immediately standing up and heading for his art room, his eyes focused on nothing else.

Still processing what had happened, Qi Ning instinctively grabbed his arm. “You’re still in the middle of an interview.”

Early summer had just begun, and the warmth of Qi Ning’s palm quickly spread through Qi Cheng’s thin jacket. Having just begun to relax, his entire body suddenly stiffened.

Even though Qi Ning quickly let go and stepped back to give him safe distance, he still felt the touched area burning as if cut by a knife.

“She’s already passed,” Qi Cheng said through gritted teeth, trying to distract himself from the pain. “I wanted a bowl of spring noodles without its usual taste just because I don’t like lard.”

“She used vegetable stock, and worried about bland taste so she made roast duck – duck’s aroma is more dominant than lard. The noodles she’s preparing now completely meet my requirements.”

His arm still throbbed with phantom pain. Qi Cheng forced a bitter smile, hiding his arm that in his hallucination was now mutilated behind his back.

His test yesterday had been a trap.

Most people hearing this request would first think of changing the noodle texture, replacing flour with other ingredients.

So the moment Chi Zhihan started normally kneading dough, he knew she had passed.

“Sign the contract with her, same as the previous private chef contract, for one month,” he said. Because of that expression, and because just his cousin’s brief touch on his arm had caused him to hallucinate, he felt an urgent need for redemption.

The sweet-looking girl next door had surprised him and given him inspiration from the moment she appeared.

He didn’t expect her to redeem him, but her cooking style could become material for his manga, that expression perfectly matching his protagonist’s character.

And when immersed in his manga, he was at his most normal.

Redemption, even if temporary, he desperately needed it.

In the studio where portraits of girls with twisted smiles still covered an entire wall, Qi Cheng sat behind the door after giving his instructions, staring at his arm.

It still clearly appeared mutilated, the pain feeling real.

Even though he knew perfectly well it was a hallucination. Mental illness was like this—knowing what was real, yet the brain would clearly create opposite illusions. Living in this inverted world for long periods slowly led to losing oneself.

Dr. Zhao’s prescribed medication seemed to be losing its effectiveness again.

Qi Cheng covered his face, his already pale complexion looking even more ghastly from the pain.

He sat helplessly, in this studio full of his nightmares, almost self-torturing.

…

Chi Zhihan didn’t know she had already passed the interview.

Right as four hours were up, Qi Ning walked in very punctually, just as Chi Zhihan had finished arranging all the garnishes on an elegant plate.

Green cucumber strips, yellow egg strips, red chili strips, and neatly cut roast duck breast.

In another bowl was the vegetable stock spring noodles.

Having already deviated from convention, she went all out and didn’t even add scallions, instead cutting cucumber to look like scallions and sprinkling them on top, with a golden-brown fried egg on the side.

Qi Ning’s expression remained neutral, revealing nothing.

As Chi Zhihan watched Qi Ning put the noodles in a food container and pick up the colorful plate of garnishes, she abandoned Lin Jingwu’s principle of less talk more action, and spoke up.

“These noodles are best eaten after three minutes for optimal temperature and texture. Those who prefer mild flavors can start with the egg and cucumber strips; those who like spicy food can add the chili strips first; those unused to plain flavors can start with the roast duck.” After explaining each detail, seemingly remembering she probably wouldn’t pass anyway, she gave a faint smile, “I put a lot of effort into this bowl of noodles. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

“If it were you, which would you try first?” Qi Ning suddenly stopped and asked.

…

If it were her, she’d rather eat instant noodles than spend four hours on a single bowl.

But of course she couldn’t say that.

After a moment’s hesitation, Chi Zhihan replied, “If it were me, I would take off the gloves while kneading the dough. The human touch makes the dough taste better.”

Then both fell silent.

Qi Ning probably hadn’t expected such an answer. Her hand paused while closing the food container, and she gave Chi Zhihan a look.

Chi Zhihan, equally surprised by her own audacity under pressure, simply stood still, accepting whatever came next.

The air froze for a moment.

Qi Ning smiled and extended her right hand. “Congratulations, you’ve passed the interview.”

…

…

“Because of my answer?” Chi Zhihan was stunned – hadn’t they said they weren’t hiring female private chefs?

Was this good news?

But they hadn’t even tasted the noodles yet… she spent four hours on them…

「Author’s Note」Old Ying, the hole-digger: This time the male lead has social anxiety disorder plus gynophobia and hallucinations, rubbing hands excitedly!

Chi Zhihan: What did I do to deserve this?

Old Ying: I gained five pounds researching recipes for writing about you…

Chi Zhihan: ……