A leisurely life starting in a bar after being reborn

Fu Yan had actually prepared the ingredients long ago.

The refrigerator was crammed full—ribs, sea bass, broccoli, snow peas, eggs, tofu, scallions, ginger, garlic, and even a bag of flour and a packet of yeast. The seasonings were also complete: oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, cooking wine, oyster sauce, Sichuan peppercorns, star anise, and even Pixian chili bean paste.

This was all thanks to Lin Xiaochen—Fu Yan sent her a text message last night: "Restock the fridge with some vegetables, the kind you can make into everyday dishes, not just yogurt salad." Lin Xiaochen had them delivered early this morning, along with a recipe—a handwritten one, with neat and tidy handwriting.

Xu Wenshu opened the refrigerator and glanced inside, then saw the recipe again. Her lips twitched. "Did you plan this all along?"

"What plan? I just want you to cook me a meal."

"You have a fridge full of groceries and a recipe book, and you're telling me you have no plans?"

"This shows that I am well prepared."

Xu Wenshu snorted, but still took off her coat, rolled up her sleeves, and went into the kitchen.

Fu Yan followed behind, wanting to help, but she chased him out: "Go sit down outside! The kitchen isn't a place for you!"

"Can't I at least wash some vegetables?"

"What are you washing vegetables for? Those hands are for handling money, not for touching vegetables!"

Fu Yan was kicked out of the kitchen and had no choice but to sit in the living room and listen to the commotion.

The kitchen echoed with the sounds of chopping vegetables, sizzling pancakes, and Xu Wenshu's occasional mutterings to herself—"Where's the salt? Where did you put the salt?" "This pot is too heavy!" "The ribs need to be blanched first. Doesn't this person even know how to blanch ribs?"

Fu Yan listened and couldn't stop laughing.

He suddenly remembered something—in his previous life, he lived alone, and the kitchen was basically just for show; he rarely cooked more than three times a year. Occasionally, he would cook a bowl of noodles, which was considered a feast.

Now, a woman is cooking in the kitchen, the clatter of pots and pans filling the air, the aroma of cooking oil and vegetables wafting out, mingling with the dry smell of the heating system, creating a comforting scent.

This is what "home" tastes like.

……

More than an hour later, Xu Wenshu came out of the kitchen carrying dishes.

Four dishes and one soup: sweet and sour pork ribs, steamed sea bass, garlic broccoli, home-style tofu, plus a bowl of tomato and egg drop soup.

It doesn't look particularly appealing, but it smells delicious.

"Just make do with this. Your kitchen knife was so dull, it almost ruined my hand." Xu Wenshu took off her apron, revealing a band-aid on her finger—she had accidentally cut herself while chopping vegetables.

Fu Yan saw the band-aid, frowned slightly, but didn't say anything. He just got up and dimmed the light.

What are you doing?

"A candlelight dinner."

Fu Yan took two candles out of the cabinet, lit them, and placed them in the middle of the table. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows on the two people's faces.

He then took a bottle of red wine from the wine rack—not an expensive one, just an ordinary Bordeaux, but from a good vintage.

"What romantic gesture are you pulling now?"

"This is what you call romantic? This is nothing."

"You..." Xu Wenshu wanted to say something, but the candlelight reflected on Fu Yan's profile, outlining his features softly yet clearly, and her gaze involuntarily paused for a second.

Fu Yan poured her a glass of wine, and then poured one for himself.

"To you."

"What are you going to offer me in respect?"

"To the meal you prepared. From today onwards, you are my first guest and my first chef in this courtyard."

Xu Wenshu was amused by his serious tone: "Why are you talking like you're giving an award?"

"Then I'll present another award—the Best Culinary Skills Award—to Ms. Xu Wenshu."

Stop being so cheeky!

The two clinked glasses, the red wine went down their throats, and the warmth spread across their faces.

-

The two talked a lot during the meal.

Talking about Fu Yan's days in the US—of course, a filtered version, omitting all the frivolous parts and only talking about the serious business of building websites and investing. Talking about Xu Wenshu's work at the Central Bank—when working the early shift, she had to get up at four in the morning to put on makeup, and when working the late shift, she didn't get off work until ten o'clock. Sometimes she worked non-stop and only slept four or five hours a day.

As they chatted, their conversation shifted from the dining table to the sofa, from sitting to leaning against it, and from leaning against it to sitting next to each other.

Xu Wenshu's alcohol tolerance is truly terrible—after one glass of red wine, her face turned bright red, as if she had applied blush. After two glasses, her eyes began to glaze over, and her speech became somewhat slurred.

"Fu Yan... do you know... you're such a nuisance..."

"What am I bothered about?"

"You're clearly so rich... why are you pretending to be low-key... you came to pick me up on an electric scooter... I thought you cared about me..."

"I care about you."

"..." Xu Wenshu was stunned. It took her several seconds to process what she had just said, her mind still reeling from the alcohol.

"What did you say?"

"I said I care about you." Fu Yan's voice was very soft, as if afraid of disturbing something. "Otherwise, why would I ride an electric scooter to pick you up? Wouldn't my Audi A8 be better?"

"You..." Xu Wenshu's lips trembled slightly, the candlelight reflecting in her eyes, making them sparkle. "Didn't you say... we were just friends..."

"When did I say that?"

"You...you didn't say that...but you didn't say anything either..." Her voice grew softer and softer until it was almost inaudible.

Fu Yan looked at her.

In the candlelight, her cheeks were flushed, her eyelashes trembled slightly, and her lips were pursed, as if she were waiting for something, or as if she was afraid of something.

He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead.

"Then I'll tell you now."

Xu Wenshu raised her head and met his gaze.

There was no joking, no perfunctory attitude in those eyes, only a quiet, certainty—as if they had waited a long time and were finally speaking out.

"Xu Wenshu, I like you."

The air stopped.

The candlelight was also turned off.

Then, Xu Wenshu's tears fell.

"Why...why didn't you say so sooner..." Her voice trembled with tears. "Do you know how long I've waited...from America to when I came back to China, and from when I came back until now...you...you're such a nuisance..."

Fu Yan smiled and reached out to wipe away her tears.

"Stop crying, the food's getting cold."

"You're even in charge of the food! I..."

Before he could finish speaking, Fu Yan lowered his head and kissed her.

The kiss was light, like snowflakes falling on flower petals. But Xu Wenshu's reaction was strong—she grabbed his collar, like a drowning person grabbing a piece of driftwood, and pulled him closer.

The candle had been blown out by the wind sometime during the night, and only the sound of water flowing from the radiator remained in the living room.

Moonlight streamed through the gauze curtains, falling on the sofa and on the two people who were pressed close together.

The old locust tree swayed gently in the yard, its branches casting shadows on the window paper like a flowing ink painting.

……

Late at night.

Fu Yan lay on the bed, one arm was being supported by Xu Wenshu, and the other hand was unconsciously playing with her hair.

She was asleep, breathing evenly, her cheek resting against his shoulder, and the corners of her mouth slightly upturned.

Moonlight shone through the gaps in the curtains onto the foot of the bed, like a silvery ribbon.

Fu Yan stared at the ceiling, his mind a jumble of thoughts.

He didn't expect it to happen so quickly.

Or rather, he didn't expect himself to be so unable to control himself.

From the US to his return home, from picking him up at the airport to picking him up after get off work, from hugging to touching his abs to today—the thin veil between him and Xu Wenshu had long been so thin it could be torn at any moment. They were both just pretending, pretending to be "just friends," pretending their "friendship had reached its limit but romance hadn't," pretending nothing had happened.

But feelings are something you can't hide the more you try to fake them.

Just like today—candlelight, red wine, four dishes and a soup, a simple "I like you"—and then nothing more needs to be said.

Fu Yan turned his head to look at Xu Wenshu's sleeping face.

When she's asleep, she's not as sharp as when she's awake. Her eyebrows relax, her lips are slightly parted, and she looks several years younger than usual.

He suddenly remembered what she had said: "I waited from America to return to China, and I've been waiting ever since I returned to China."

He made her wait too long.

Fu Yan tucked the blanket around her and gently kissed her forehead.

"You won't have to wait anymore."

He said in a low voice.

I don't know if I'm saying this to her or to myself.