Yu Wanlai had tugged at his sweater a few times but couldn’t get it free from Yu Qingyue’s grip, so he just let him be. However, the sweater already had a wide neckline, and with Qingyue pulling on it, half of his shoulder was left barely exposed.

Now, as Wanlai turned around, that half-exposed shoulder fully slipped out. He reached up to pull his sweater back into place.

“What exactly are you trying to do? If you’re tired and don’t want to clean up, I can do it myself,” Wanlai said.

Qingyue shook his head. “No, we still need to make tangyuan.”

Wanlai: ………

‘Is he really that desperate to make something for the female lead?‘ If he didn’t want to do it, why was he forcing himself? For some reason, Wanlai felt both a bit irritated and slightly sour. Shouldn’t he be feeling something more like “my little brother is growing up” instead?

“…It’s fine. I can handle this too. You can go rest,” Wanlai added.

Qingyue clicked his tongue softly, feeling a little wronged. ‘Why does it feel like Wanlai hasn’t been paying much attention to me lately?’ He took a deep breath and said, “My hands are cold.”

With that, he tilted his head up, eyes full of anticipation as he stared directly at Wanlai.

Wanlai, feeling a bit off himself, didn’t catch the hint. “Oh… then why don’t you go upstairs and warm up?”

Qingyue nearly exploded. ‘Is he doing this on purpose?!’

Clenching his teeth, he retorted, “No need. I still have to make tangyuan. You warm me up.”

Normally, or anywhere else, Qingyue might have directly tucked his hands against Wanlai’s waist to warm them up. But they were in the dining room, and he was worried their parents might suddenly walk in. So, it was enough if Wanlai just held his hands for a bit—he wasn’t actually that cold.

At the mention of tangyuan, Wanlai couldn’t help but think of the female lead again, which irritated him even more. But seeing Qingyue standing there, not blinking and clearly expecting something, he sighed. Like always, he reached out and took both of Qingyue’s hands in his, gently rubbing them and blowing warm air onto them from time to time.

Qingyue, satisfied, let the corners of his lips curl slightly. But when Wanlai looked over, he quickly averted his gaze as if nothing had happened.

After warming his hands, Wanlai habitually reached up to touch Qingyue’s face. To his surprise, Qingyue tilted his head away, dodging his touch.

A faint sense of disappointment rose in Wanlai’s chest, though it disappeared so quickly he barely registered it.

Qingyue brushed his hand against his own cheek to check. Since he had been wearing Wanlai’s mask all along, his face wasn’t cold at all.

He reached up and adjusted Wanlai’s sweater collar, which had been tugged loose earlier. His hand hovered briefly near Wanlai’s face but hesitated to make contact. In the end, he withdrew, flustered, grabbing the remaining bags of fruit from the table.

“…Uh, what should I do with these?”

Wanlai noticed how Qingyue’s ears had turned bright red and, curious, reached out to touch them. Lately, it seemed like he was seeing Qingyue’s ears, neck, and cheeks flush red more often.

“Weren’t you cold earlier? Why are you this warm now?”

His voice was softer, almost hesitant, as his fingers gently pinched Qingyue’s earlobe.

Qingyue stiffened involuntarily, but as he calmed his breathing, his body slowly relaxed. After a moment, he couldn’t take it anymore and yanked Wanlai’s hand away, his gaze flickering nervously.

“…I’m just warm, okay?”

Wanlai nodded, thinking, ‘He really is warm.’

As Qingyue let go of his hand, Wanlai shifted his focus back to the table, picking out a few fruits for the tangyuan while leaving the rest for snacking.

With that settled, the two of them headed to the kitchen together.

After washing the fruit, Yu Qingyue saw Yu Wanlai rummaging through the cabinets, clearly searching for something. Unable to hold back, he asked, “What are you looking for?”

Half-squatting on the floor with his head hidden behind an open cabinet door, Wanlai responded with a soft “Mm,” before speaking with slight embarrassment, “I forgot to buy glutinous rice flour and sugar. I’m checking if we have any at home.”

Qingyue’s lips twitched, and he walked over to pull Wanlai up. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? I’ll ask Aunt Wang. Besides, we still haven’t given out red envelopes for the New Year this year.”

They had spent the entire New Year in the hospital together.

Wanlai nodded. “Alright.” He had thought about asking earlier, but since Aunt Wang was on leave, he didn’t want to bother her.

Fortunately, they did have glutinous rice flour, though it wasn’t stored with the frequently used items. Sugar was also available. After finding both, Wanlai let out a breath of relief, thinking he had narrowly avoided another trip to the supermarket, which was quite far away.

The two of them each took a cutting board and began slicing the fruit into simple chunks.

Initially, Wanlai had planned to cut everything himself, thinking Qingyue probably hadn’t spent much time in the kitchen and might hurt himself with the knife. However, Qingyue shot him an annoyed look.

“I’m not an idiot. Why would I cut myself? I’ve cut fruit before, you know!”

Qingyue didn’t understand why Wanlai seemed to think he was completely incapable, as if he couldn’t even manage slicing fruit.

Scratching his nose, Wanlai thought Qingyue looked a bit like a puffed-up cat and reluctantly handed over half the fruit.

“Alright, you can cut it then. Just keep the pieces big. We’ll be blending them later.”

Qingyue nodded and turned around to focus on slicing the oranges seriously.

After a short while, Wanlai drifted over again.

Sensing his presence behind him, Qingyue assumed Wanlai was still worried. His tone turned slightly defensive, “What now? I can handle this.”

Wanlai hummed, smoothing things over, “I know. I saw. You’re doing well. I just wanted to say—don’t throw away the orange peels.”

Qingyue paused, his hand hovering over the trash can, then turned to face Wanlai, holding up the orange peels. “What do you need these for?”

Wanlai reached out to take them, but Qingyue suddenly pulled back. Wanlai had to stretch his arm and step closer to grab the peels.

Annoyed, he pinched Qingyue’s cheek firmly.

“…Stop messing around.”

Qingyue immediately swatted his hand away.

“Hey—don’t pinch! It hurts~”

Hearing him complain, Wanlai instantly let go, feeling a bit guilty despite thinking he hadn’t used much force. This young master had always been delicate, after all.

Seeing the faint red mark left on Qingyue’s cheek, Wanlai averted his gaze, feeling a twinge of guilt.

Qingyue touched his face, glanced at the closed kitchen door, and then stepped half a pace closer, closing the already narrow gap between them. He wrapped his arms around Wanlai’s waist, his clear eyes gazing up at him.

“Ge~ You really hurt me just now…”

Wanlai, predictably, gave in.

“…Should I rub it better for you?”

Qingyue’s eyes sparkled as he nodded, though his voice carried a hint of reluctant pride.

“…Fine, I guess.”

Just then, a set of light footsteps approached from outside, and the kitchen door suddenly opened.

Qin Shuang entered, holding a cookbook. As she walked in, she asked, “It’s almost noon. How’s the tangyuan coming along?”

Startled, Qingyue immediately pushed Wanlai away—so abruptly that Wanlai nearly stumbled.

Qin Shuang noticed Qingyue’s flustered expression and the redness on his face, a strange suspicion rising within her again.

Wanlai, steadying himself, glanced at the visibly panicked Qingyue before turning to Qin Shuang and explaining awkwardly, “Ah… I was just messing around with my brother. I accidentally pinched his face too hard, and he got mad and pushed me. It’s nothing serious.”

Qin Shuang: …………

‘That didn’t feel like just messing around, but what else could it be?‘

Noticing the faint red mark on Qingyue’s cheek, her expression softened slightly.

“Yuanyuan, don’t fight with your brother.”

Qingyue finally met her gaze.

“Oh… We weren’t fighting.”

Yu Wanlai squeezed the orange peel in his hand and added cautiously, “I won’t bully him anymore.”

Hearing this, Yu Qingyue frowned slightly, and so did Qin Shuang. She had mainly felt something was off with her son. Seeing that the situation had been misunderstood, she clarified, “It’s not that serious. Just normal sibling playfulness—I understand. It’s a good thing you two get along well.”

Yu Wanlai nodded politely. “Got it, Auntie. I understand.”

Noticing the cookbook in Qin Shuang’s hands, Qingyue paused for a moment and asked tentatively, “Mom, the cookbook… are you planning to…?”

Qin Shuang took a few steps forward. “Of course, I’m going to cook.”

Qingyue stepped closer and took the cookbook from her hands. Its title was “Smoke and Fire in the Kitchen: Easy Recipes for Beginners”. The name sounded pleasant enough.

Choosing his words carefully, he asked, “Since when did you know how to cook?”

Qin Shuang ruffled his hair. “I’ve known for a while. Didn’t you eat the food I made when you were both hospitalized?”

Qingyue: ………
Wanlai: ………

No wonder, Wanlai thought. *That explained why some of the dishes had a strange mix of sweetness and bitterness, and why the vegetable soup always looked murky.*

Qingyue glanced again at the cookbook, especially the bold “BEGINNER” printed on it.

Feeling this wasn’t ideal, he shot a pleading look at Wanlai.

Meeting Qingyue’s gaze, Wanlai inexplicably felt a pang of sympathy. Reluctantly, he spoke up, “Auntie, maybe… we should handle the cooking instead? You’re talking about the ingredients you and Uncle bought earlier, right?”

Qin Shuang had been hoping to hand over the task anyway, so she replied, “I can’t just leave it all to you, though.”

Wanlai patted Qingyue’s waist, signaling him to back him up.

“It’s fine, I can handle it. Besides, Qingyue has tried my cooking before, but you and Dad haven’t yet. This is a great chance.”

Qingyue nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, he’s really good. He doesn’t even need a cookbook!” (Much better than you, he thought but didn’t dare say aloud.)

Wanlai coughed awkwardly, his face slightly flushed.

Qin Shuang opened the cookbook to a recipe. “And this salt and pepper shrimp… you can make this too?”

Wanlai glanced at it and nodded. “More or less, yes.”

Qingyue peeked over as well. The shrimp in the picture did look nice and crispy.

With a decisive snap, Qin Shuang closed the cookbook. “Alright then, you two can handle it.”

She took a couple of steps toward the door but then turned back. “Are you sure you don’t need my help? I can cook, you know.”

Qingyue tried to dissuade her. “But… but, your cooking isn’t very good…”

Wanlai immediately patted his back lightly, hoping he’d stop.

But Qingyue doubled down, turning to Wanlai. “Why are you patting me? Go ahead, tell her! Is her cooking good or not?”

Wanlai grimaced. ‘This little troublemaker…’

Qin Shuang narrowed her eyes. “Yes, tell me, Wanlai. My cooking isn’t bad, right?”

Wanlai forced an awkward smile and nodded. “Ah… not bad at all.”

Satisfied, Qin Shuang turned back to Qingyue, scolding, “See? He said it’s not bad.”

Qingyue was momentarily speechless, then blurted out, “He’s lying! Your meat always tastes—”

Before he could finish, Wanlai quickly covered his mouth, preventing him from saying anything further.

Qin Shuang: …………

Seeing her son flustered, she decided to stop teasing him and waved them off. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave it to you two then.”

Honestly, she had only gone to the supermarket on a whim, and after buying the ingredients, she had already started stressing about how to cook them. Now that someone else was willing to take over, she was more than happy to step aside.

Once she left, Qingyue glared at Wanlai and huffed, turning back to continue slicing the fruit.

Thinking he was upset, Wanlai approached and explained, “You were too blunt. What if you hurt her feelings?”

He had only learned later in life that even parents could be hurt by their children’s words. Unfortunately, by the time he realized this, he had missed his chance to apologize.

Qingyue snorted, unconcerned. “I just want her to give up on cooking. If I don’t discourage her a little, how will she stop? People around her always mix truth with lies—if I don’t say it clearly, she’ll keep thinking she’s a great cook.”

However, Qingyue was still annoyed that Wanlai hadn’t backed him up. He narrowed his eyes. “Next time, you better be on my side! Or else—”

Wanlai raised an eyebrow, teasing, “Or else what?”

Qingyue glanced at Wanlai’s lips briefly, then turned away, refusing to speak.