Chapter 28: Cooking

Hearing Ming Can’s follow-up statement, Chi Xiao’s grip on the steering wheel tightened instinctively, and his heart gave an unruly, heavy thump.

At the same time, his sharp rational intuition reminded him that Ming Can’s behavior seemed a bit off.

Using just a bit of common sense, it was clear that a proud and pampered young lady like her would never personally cook to thank him.

However, perhaps because the car’s heater was blasting and the air hadn’t been refreshed for too long, lowering the oxygen levels, Chi Xiao’s brain wasn’t functioning at full capacity. Emotions overrode reason, and a smile unconsciously crept onto his lips. Feeling both flustered and undeserving, he asked, “Wouldn’t that be inconvenient?”

His question was purely out of politeness. After all, Ming Can’s home was only shared with Miaomiao, and no matter how you looked at it, Chi Xiao was an outsider. Moreover, he had never visited a member of the opposite sex’s home alone before, and he instinctively felt that it might disturb her, leaving him a bit at a loss.

Unfortunately, Ming Can happened to glance at the rearview mirror and caught him smiling.

Smiling while asking if it would be inconvenient?

What was he thinking?

It was only then that Ming Can realized that inviting a not-so-familiar guy to her home for a meal and claiming she would personally cook for him did indeed come off as overly intimate.

Even if they were going to co-parent in the future, they would each handle their own responsibilities. It was fine for him to come over to take care of Miaomiao, but his personal life had no place intruding into her domain.

Ming Can: “It’s just a meal. If it’s inconvenient for you, senior, then forget it.”

Chi Xiao: …

It was a blatant case of turning the tables. He had clearly been concerned about whether she would feel inconvenienced, but she deliberately twisted it to make it seem like he was the one who felt inconvenienced.

Miss Ming’s thoughts were ever-changing, leaving people utterly confused and hard to decipher.

Both of them had been speaking in low voices, and as the conversation came to an end, the atmosphere in the car grew increasingly tense. Miaomiao, lying on the back seat, turned over, and the sound of his smacking lips became unusually clear.

Ming Can’s residential complex wasn’t far from the ring road. After exiting the elevated highway, it was just a few hundred meters to the entrance of the neighborhood.

The car sped along the empty elevated highway, the desolate night scenery flashing by outside the window. They were approaching the exit ramp.

Nearly ten minutes had passed since Ming Can had spoken her last line.

Chi Xiao, gripping the steering wheel, pursed his lips as if finally breaking through a layer of restraint and hesitation. He glanced at Ming Can through the rearview mirror and said in a low, cool voice:

“I’m not inconvenienced.”

Ming Can, with one hand gently stroking Miaomiao’s chubby cheek, raised an eyebrow at him. “Alright then.”

…

In the end, the one who had offered to treat him to a meal now held the upper hand, while the one who had been invited was left humbly pleading to come over for dinner.

A few minutes later, the car stopped at the entrance of the building.

Ming Can patted Miaomiao’s shoulder, helping him sit up from her lap. Chi Xiao opened the door on the other side, took hold of Miaomiao’s arm, and gave it a gentle tug. “Wake up, we’re home.”

This kid really loved sleeping in the car. Chi Xiao couldn’t help but think of his own younger siblings, who were about the same age as Miaomiao. Those two were always bursting with energy, and even the usually calm and steady family driver had once complained to Chi Xiao during a ride home, wondering how children from the same father could be so different. He had even joked that there were times when the noise from the little master and miss made him want to jump out of the car.

Miaomiao’s legs dangled out of the car door, and he finally opened his eyes. Seeing Chi Xiao, he mumbled sleepily, “Dad-brother?”

What kind of address was that…

Chi Xiao couldn’t help but chuckle. It suddenly occurred to him that his father had a five-year-old child, and now he had one too—possibly even older than his father’s child. What a mess.

The cold wind blew, snapping Miaomiao out of his drowsiness. His little feet thudded onto the ground.

Chi Xiao stood in front of him, shielding him from the wind, and naturally took his hand.

At this moment, Ming Can had already entered the building and was holding the glass door open, urging them to hurry inside.

Once inside, Miaomiao noticed that Chi Xiao was still by his side and even planning to take the elevator with him and his mom.

He asked in surprise, “Dad, are you coming back to our place too?”

Chi Xiao still felt a bit awkward hearing Miaomiao call him “Dad.” Among guys, it was common to jokingly call each other “Dad” as a way of teasing, but when a little child looked up at you earnestly and called you “Dad,” the feeling was strange and surreal. It was both a bit overwhelming and heartwarming, as if something intangible had filled his chest.

Chi Xiao let out a soft breath to relax and replied, “I’m just going to your place for a meal.”

Chi Xiao: [Your mom is going to cook for me herself.]

Miaomiao: “Oh… huh?”

What?!

Miaomiao’s eyes widened in shock as he was led into the elevator by the adults, his mouth forming a perfect “O.”

Mom? Cooking?

Miaomiao couldn’t even begin to imagine these two completely opposite concepts coming together.

Could Mom even cook?

Miaomiao racked his brain trying to recall if he had ever eaten anything his mom had made. After thinking for a while, he finally remembered two instances that could barely count as “Mom making something”—

1. Mom had used a juicer to make juice for him.

2. Mom had used the microwave to heat up meals prepared by the nanny.

Other than that, there was nothing.

Mom was always elegant, noble, and commanding. Miaomiao tried his hardest to picture Mom standing in front of the stove cooking, but his mind kept conjuring up an image of her crossing her arms, arrogantly ordering the iron pot, “I command you to prepare five dishes and two soups within half an hour,” before turning and walking away.

The elevator arrived, and Ming Can walked out first. She opened the door to their home, swiftly took off her coat, and then turned to help Miaomiao out of his clothes. As she led him into the living room, she said, “I’ll be cooking today. You two just wait outside.”

Upon hearing this, Miaomiao inexplicably shivered. Ming Can bent down and touched his shoulder, asking, “Why are you shivering? Is it too cold at home?”

“No, no,” Miaomiao said. “Mom, are you really going to cook?”

“Of course,” Ming Can replied, glancing at the tall figure standing awkwardly in the entryway, his presence making the space feel cramped. He seemed unsure whether to stuff his coat into someone else’s closet. She raised her voice slightly, “Cooking for your child is a parent’s responsibility. Auntie Zhang isn’t here today, so if I don’t cook, who will?”

After saying this, she wasn’t sure if Chi Xiao had heard her. Seeing him fidgeting like it was his first time visiting a girl’s home, Ming Can sighed, strode over, took the coat from his hands, and decisively stuffed it into the closet. She then led him to the living room, where he sat down next to Miaomiao.

“You two chat,” Ming Can said. “Dinner should be ready in… about an hour?”

She wasn’t sure how long it would take, so she just threw out a random estimate.

Ming Can turned on the large LCD TV in the living room and switched it to a children’s channel.

Chi Xiao had never been to a girl’s house before, and she had never hosted a male guest of her age at home either. Pouring him a glass of water was the extent of her hospitality. Soon, she left the two of them—one big, one small—alone and headed into the kitchen.

On the TV, two pink pigs that looked like hairdryers oinked and squealed while speaking English. Miaomiao squirmed on the sofa, as if he didn’t like the cartoon or as if the sofa had grown thorns beneath him. He was clearly restless.

“Dad,” Miaomiao finally couldn’t hold back. He peeked his little head toward the kitchen, making sure Mom was far away, before leaning close to Chi Xiao, hugging his arm, and whining, “I want to eat the black truffle pizza from Dada’s. Can you order delivery for me?”

Chi Xiao shook his head. “No, your mom is cooking.”

“Oh,” Miaomiao said, a bit dejected. Then he pointed to the tall built-in cabinet next to the TV stand and said to Chi Xiao, “The top shelf has chocolates and egg rolls. I’m hungry and want to eat them, but I can’t reach. Can you get them down for me?”

Chi Xiao still shook his head. “No snacks before dinner.”

At the same time, Miaomiao heard his dad’s thoughts: [Your mom is working hard in the kitchen. You have to save your appetite for what she’s making.]

Miaomiao flopped back onto the sofa, defeated.

Mom had never cooked before. Even a five-year-old like him knew that whatever Mom made today would probably be… unusual. He had wanted to sneak in some snacks because he was afraid of eating Mom’s cooking, but his young dad didn’t seem to grasp that at all. Instead, he insisted that Miaomiao save his appetite for Mom’s meal.

Miaomiao stared blankly at the ceiling, silently comforting himself. Maybe Mom actually had some hidden culinary skills he didn’t know about. Maybe what she made wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Yes, he shouldn’t judge Mom with prejudice. He should trust her firmly, just like Dad, and cherish her!

Just then, the sliding glass door to the kitchen suddenly opened. Ming Can walked out holding a giant red apple and sat down next to Miaomiao. She said gently, “Sweetie, you must be starving, right? Let me peel an apple for you to tide you over.”

Ming Can: [Hey, Chi Xiao, I’m about to peel an apple for your son. Pay attention… Wait, is this the blade side?]

Miaomiao: “…”

Chi Xiao’s attention had already been drawn to her.

He didn’t understand why she wanted to give Miaomiao such a big apple before dinner. Wouldn’t that mean he wouldn’t have much appetite left for the meal?

In the next moment, he watched as Ming Can brought the fruit knife down on the apple with a startling thud—the knife got stuck in the flesh, neither able to push through nor pull out. She had to twist it, scraping off a huge chunk of the apple. Chi Xiao’s eyelid twitched, and he couldn’t help but ask, “Why not use a peeler?”

Ming Can: “I’ve seen the nanny use a fruit knife. It’s faster and better.”

That’s because she’s skilled. Using a fruit knife works smoothly for her.

Chi Xiao didn’t dare to comment further, nor could he look away. His gaze remained fixed on her delicate hands, which clearly had never touched a kitchen utensil before. He watched as she peeled off chunk after chunk of skin and flesh, the large apple quickly reduced to three-quarters of its original size.

Suddenly, Ming Can twisted the apple in her left hand, her thumb positioned too far forward. Her right hand, gripping the knife, was about to slice toward her left thumb. Chi Xiao’s heart skipped a beat. He immediately reached over Miaomiao, his right hand clasping Ming Can’s hand that held the knife.

Her hand was cold and slightly damp, its texture like smooth jade, impossibly soft.

Chi Xiao’s large, calloused hand completely covered the back of hers, his rough fingertips pressing against her slender, pale wrist. He held it for two seconds, leaving behind an inexplicable warmth.

“Let me do it,” he said, taking the fruit knife from Ming Can’s hand. His voice was low. “Don’t touch the knife anymore. Be careful not to cut yourself.”

Ming Can nodded blankly, not expecting him to suddenly lunge over and grab her hand. She had only wanted to show off how terrible her knife skills were, never thinking she might actually hurt herself.

The sudden closeness between the two of them left Miaomiao, sandwiched in the middle, feeling dizzy. His mind was filled with his dad’s thoughts: [How could she be so careless? Her hand is so soft… It feels so nice to hold… Sorry, sorry, I overstepped…]

The apple now in Chi Xiao’s hands, he skillfully peeled it, the thin, unbroken strip of skin curling down in one long piece.

From the kitchen came the sizzling sound of boiling water spilling over the pot and onto the stove. Ming Can hurriedly stood up and rushed toward the kitchen. Chi Xiao, having just finished peeling the apple, handed it to Miaomiao and followed Ming Can.

“What are you cooking?”

“Blanching,” Ming Can replied, putting on gloves and standing as far away from the boiling pot as possible. She nervously stretched her arm to turn off the heat while explaining to Chi Xiao, “I wanted to make a bone broth, but the bones were frozen when I took them out of the fridge. So, I thought they needed to be blanched, right?”

Wait, no.

Chi Xiao was pretty sure blanching wasn’t the same as thawing.

He stepped closer to the stove, helping Ming Can turn off the heat, and glanced at the grayish bones and meat in the pot. The color alone was enough to kill anyone’s appetite. It looked like something that would make you want to pick your teeth before even taking a bite.

“You…” Chi Xiao stood in front of Ming Can, looking at her beautiful, wide-eyed, innocent face framed by the pink apron she wore. He finally couldn’t hold back his question: “Do you… not know how to cook?”

Ming Can was surprised again. She had just started cooking and hadn’t even produced anything disastrous for him to taste, yet he was already unable to sit still and had come over to stop her from further insulting the kitchen.

What a kitchen guardian! He was exactly the kind of person she needed!

“Yes,” Ming Can admitted, showing a rare moment of embarrassment. Her almond-shaped eyes glistened as she spoke softly. “I’ve never cooked before. Our nanny took leave during the winter break, and there’s no one to cook for Miaomiao. I thought I’d give it a try, but I didn’t realize cooking would be so hard…”

Behind the sliding kitchen door, Miaomiao, clutching half an apple, quietly crept closer, munching as he eavesdropped on his parents’ conversation.

Chi Xiao: “How about we just order takeout?”

“That’s fine, but we can’t order takeout every day, right? Someone has to cook eventually.” Ming Can glanced back at the rice cooker. “I’ve already started the rice. Let’s just eat at home today.”

Chi Xiao: “Okay.”

Ming Can pretended to be troubled and sighed, “Ah, I feel like my cooking skills are just too poor. I should stay far away from the kitchen. Maybe I should just leave… Senior, do you know how to cook?”

Finally, she had asked the question.

Ming Can believed her acting was decent, and her logic was smooth and natural. There was no way Chi Xiao could see through her scheme that had been unfolding all evening.

Earlier, when she saw him peel the apple with such mastery, she figured he must know how to cook.

Chi Xiao looked into Ming Can’s expectant, glistening eyes, his mind filled with the heart-stopping moment when she had almost cut her hand.

He clenched his jaw and nodded. “I can do it.”

Not far behind them, a certain five-year-old eavesdropping by the glass door heard a heartbreaking thought in his mind: [I’ve never cooked a meal in my life.]

What…?

Dad had never cooked before?

Then why did he lie?

What were the three of them going to do for dinner tonight!

“Miaomiao, what are you doing here?” Ming Can walked out of the kitchen with a relaxed expression, taking off her apron as she went and casually hanging it on a chair. “The kitchen’s full of smoke. Don’t stay here.”

With that, she gently pushed Miaomiao toward the living room, then turned around and closed the sliding kitchen door behind her—firmly and without hesitation.

Left alone in the kitchen was a handsome young man, standing there bewildered, unsure of what to do next.

Miaomiao returned to the living room, his mind in chaos. Suddenly, he remembered a very unpleasant memory related to his parents cooking.

The reason he hadn’t thought of it earlier was that the memory was too embarrassing. Miaomiao wished he could completely erase it from his mind and never recall it again.

It was during a school-parent cooking festival event, where parents were required to cook together. The dishes they made would be judged, and the team with the highest score would receive certificates, medals, and the title of “Little Master Chef” for their child.

Miaomiao’s parents had rarely come together for such an event, but they put aside their grudges and worked hard for their son’s glory, striving to cook a dish.

Dad had painstakingly carved the carrots and potatoes provided by the school into beautiful shapes, while Mom studied the recipe and experimented with the sauce. After more than half an hour of collaboration, they finally produced a dish that looked quite presentable.

Miaomiao really wanted to forget the horrifying scene that followed—

The judges, full of enthusiasm, approached the dish prepared by Miaomiao’s parents. Each of them took a big bite, full of anticipation, but before they could even chew twice, everyone spat it out!