It's just a toy, why would you care if it breaks?

That evening, Nan Yan arrived home after 10 p.m.

He gently opened the door with his key and heard the sound of ping-pong balls coming from the kitchen.

Nan Yan paused, then walked over with some confusion.

Wei Xun's tall figure was seen blocking the stove, wearing a khaki cat paw apron—the one Nan Yan usually wore, which looked a bit tight on Wei Xun.

He was frantically trying to deal with the sizzling stuff in the pan with a spatula.

The range hood roared, drowning out Nan Yan's footsteps.

Nan Yan hesitated for a moment before speaking softly, "Sir, I'm back."

Wei Xun's back visibly stiffened, and then he turned around.

He had beads of sweat on his forehead, a few strands of black hair were damp, and his expression was unusually embarrassed. He was still holding a pot lid in his left hand.

"You're back?" Wei Xun cleared his throat. "Nan Yan, wait a moment, I'm cooking noodles. It'll be ready soon."

Nan Yan looked at the messy kitchen counter: flour was spilled out, eggshells were piled up on one side, and there were chopped green onions of varying sizes in a bowl.

He instinctively stepped forward and said, "Sir, let me do it."

"No need," Wei Xun stopped him, his tone firm. "Just sit down and wait to eat."

Nan Yan was gently pushed to the kitchen doorway and had no choice but to stop.

He watched as Wei Xun turned back, turned off the stove, took a bowl, and then frowned at the pot, carefully and forcefully scraping something with a spatula.

Ten minutes later, Wei Xun came out carrying a bowl and placed it on the dining table.

There are noodles in the bowl.

To be precise, it was a few noodles—most of them were stuck to the bottom of the pot and hadn't been served. There was very little soup, a few scallions floating on top, and a fried egg on top, with some burnt edges.

Wei Xun pulled out a chair for Nan Yan to sit down, then stood to the side, staring at the bowl of noodles, his expression slowly shifting from anticipation to frustration.

"I guess you're hungry," he said in a lower voice, "but these noodles are cooked like this... never mind, I'll order you takeout."

He reached for his phone as he spoke.

Nan Yan's gaze, however, fell on the trash can by the kitchen door.

Through the semi-transparent garbage bag, you could see several burnt, charred fried eggs and a lump of mushy dough lying inside.

He looked away and picked up his chopsticks.

"I'd like to eat this bowl, thank you, sir." Nan Yan picked up a few noodles and put them in her mouth.

The noodles were overcooked, mushy and lacking chewiness, and too much salt was added.

He ate quietly, then picked up the fried egg.

The egg was overcooked; the edges were black and it tasted a bit bitter.

Wei Xun stood beside him, watching him eat, his Adam's apple bobbing, but he didn't say anything.

Nan Yan finished her meal quickly, even drinking the soup.

He put down his chopsticks, looked up, and smiled: "Delicious. Thank you, sir."

Wei Xun's eyes lit up for a moment, but then dimmed again: "Liar."

"Really," Nan Yan said earnestly. "Sister Dan said that the taste of food lies in the intention."

"You sensed my feelings through your taste?"

"Yes, sir, I am very grateful."

Wei Xun pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down, looking at Nan Yan across the dining table.

The restaurant's overhead light cast a shadow on his face, and he remained silent for a while before speaking.

"Nan Yan, I apologize again for what happened last night. Please forgive me, okay?"

Nan Yan's hand, which was resting on her lap, curled slightly.

"Okay," he said.

It's a very simple word.

A look of relief mixed with disbelief instantly spread across Wei Xun's face.

He stood up almost immediately, walked around the dining table, and reached out to hug Nan Yan.

Nan Yan stood up first and took his outstretched hand.

It's not about holding it, but about gently lifting it up.

Wei Xun was taken aback.

Nan Yan looked down at the obvious red marks on his left index and middle fingers.

It's a burn.

"Does it hurt?" Nan Yan asked softly.

Wei Xun then felt the burning sensation in that area.

I was so focused on cooking noodles that I didn't even notice when I burned myself. But now that Nan Yan is holding my hand and asking me this, the pain has suddenly become clear, and it's even a little numb.

He wanted to say it didn't hurt; what was a little injury to a grown man like him?

But as the words were about to come out, looking at Nan Yan's drooping eyelashes and her focused, distressed expression, Wei Xun's Adam's apple bobbed, and he changed his mind.

"It hurts so much." He lowered his voice, sounding a little aggrieved. "A kiss from you will make it hurt less."

Nan Yan's ears turned red instantly.

He didn't respond to that, but simply blew gently on the reddened area.

The warm breath brushed against his skin, and Wei Xun's fingers curled slightly.

"Sir," Nan Yan released his hand and looked up at him, "if you want to learn how to cook noodles, I can teach you."

Wei Xun stared at his flushed cheeks, then suddenly curled his lips into a mischievous grin: "Oh? Today you're not teaching baking, but instead teaching me how to handle some... long, thin objects?"

Nan Yan was taken aback at first, then her entire face flushed red, even her neck turned pink: "Sir, what are you talking about! It's boiled noodles! It's proper boiled noodles!"

He stammered, his eyes unsure where to look: "When you went to Beijing on your business trip a few days ago, I already learned it from Aunt Chen. It's very simple, I can teach you..."

Seeing his helpless expression, Wei Xun chuckled softly, and the bitterness and unease in his heart finally dissipated.

"Okay." A smile lingered in his eyes. "Then I'll start by learning how to knead dough."

[Attention, cooking begins]

"Nanyan, may I take a look at the ingredients?"

Nan Yan nodded shyly.

So, on the kitchen counter, Wei Xun slowly opened the flour bag.

"Nanyan, this flour looks so good. I... can I take the next step?"

Nan Yan replied softly, "Let's start with kneading the dough. Pour the flour into a bowl, and slowly add water..."

Wei Xun did as he was told, but deliberately added more and more water, so that flour stuck to his hands.

"Sir, stop it from leaking any more water..." Nan Yan gritted her teeth, grabbed Wei Xun's wrist, and stopped him from continuing to knead the dough.

Wei Xun looked at Nan Yan's profile, which was so close to his own: "You've added enough water, so what?"

Nan Yan's fingers trembled slightly as she released his wrist, her voice even softer: "Then... knead it into a ball. Knead it hard, until it's smooth."

Wei Xun reached into the basin and began kneading the sticky, wet substance.

His movements were clumsy, but he was very strong, kneading the dough with a loud slapping sound.

"Like this?" he asked.

Seeing his rough movements, Nan Yan couldn't help but reach out and place her hand on the back of his hand: "Be gentle...like this, use the heel of your palm, push forward, and then pull back..."

He placed his hand on top of Wei Xun's and gently massaged it.

Wei Xun's hands were large, with distinct knuckles, and completely enveloped Nan Yan's hands.

Their fingers were covered in wet flour and stuck together stickily.

The kitchen was quiet, with only the muffled sound of dough rubbing against the bottom of the bowl and the low rumble of the range hood.

"That's enough... I'm done massaging..." Nan Yan felt she had reached her limit and wanted to pull her hand away.

Wei Xun, however, grabbed his hand in return.

His hands were still covered in paste, which stickily enveloped Nan Yan's fingers.

"And then?" Wei Xun asked, staring at him intently, without letting go.

Nan Yan was speechless.

"Nan Yan..." he called his name, his voice hoarse, "Teach me the next step."

Nan Yan's eyelashes trembled as she closed her eyes.

"Sir... wait! The noodles... the noodles aren't fully awake yet..."

"Never mind that, I can't wait to make noodles," Wei Xun said, then took a bite.

The basin on the countertop was knocked over and rolled to the ground with a clatter, spilling out and spreading out on the floor tiles.

"Is it okay?" Wei Xun asked, his breathing heavy.

Nan Yan looked at him, at this man who had cooked noodles for her that had burned his fingers, and who was now in a disheveled yet anxious state.

There was a clear fishing net in his eyes, as well as a careful restraint.

Nan Yan reached out and gently wiped away a bit of flour from the tip of Wei Xun's nose with the back of her relatively clean hand.

Then he tilted his head back and kissed Wei Xun's lips.

It was a very light kiss, yet it felt like pressing a switch.

Wei Xun's hands eagerly explored further.

The flour sack was knocked over completely, spilling some white powder that landed at their feet and on Nan Yan's dangling legs, like a thin layer of snow.

Step 1 for making noodles (delete).

Nan Yan felt like she was... (deleted).

The line of sight is (deleted).

The fine dust in the flour is indescribable.

Nan Yan raised her head, her neck forming a fragile arc.

Soon, even the traces of flour could not be described.

The noodles in the pot were boiling with the water; this scene is best left undescribed.

(delete).

"Nan Yan..." Wei Xun called his name.

Nan Yan (deleted) could only let the noodles boil and rot.

I don't know how much time passed...

The kitchen was a complete mess.

The dough was spread out on the ground, flour was scattered everywhere, and pots and pans were a mess.

The bowl of leftover noodles was still on the table, long since cold, with oil condensed on the soup.

But the smell in the air wasn't just the smell of failed food.

Wei Xun gently lifted Nan Yan off the table.

Nan Yan's legs were too weak to stand, so Wei Xun carried him to the living room sofa and wrapped him in a blanket.

"Wait for me." Wei Xun kissed his sweaty forehead.

He returned quickly, holding a damp towel, and carefully wiped the kitchen for Nan Yan.

(delete)

After wiping himself cleaned up, Wei Xun sat on the sofa and hugged Nan Yan, blanket and all, into his arms.

Wei Xun lowered his head and gently kissed Nan Yan's forehead.

Goodnight, my little dumpling.