If you want to survive after transmigrating, become the male protagonist's new mother.

"Ningning!" Ye Jiyun was startled.

The butler beside him quickly handed him a handkerchief, and Pei Yuening coughed and wiped his mouth, saying, "It's...it's nothing, I just choked."

"...Then be careful." Ye Jiyun patted his chest.

Pei Yuening finally managed to get through dinner.

Each subsequent dish was a new form of torture—the soup tasted like dishwater, the salad greens were bitter and astringent, and the desserts were so sweet they felt like eating icing sugar.

Finally, they served a Stargazing Pie.

Ye Jiyun ate very well, probably because her younger brother, for the first time ever, didn't throw a tantrum at the table or smash his plate and leave.

He even drank an extra bowl of soup, and his expression was much gentler than when Pei Yuening woke up.

"Ningning, why don't you get some rest early tonight?" Ye Jiyun put down her napkin and said gently, "You don't seem to have much energy."

Pei Yuening immediately seized the opportunity: "Yes, brother, I'm a little tired and want to go back to my room first."

"Okay, go ahead. I'll have the kitchen make you something you like tomorrow."

Pei Yuening gave a standard obedient smile, stood up, bowed, and turned to leave the restaurant.

And he maintained the decorum expected of a noble young master, even though it was all an act.

He walked step by step on the thick carpet, through the long corridor filled with oil paintings, past two carved French windows, until he reached his own door.

Push the door open.

Go in.

close the door.

Then he collapsed against the door.

It's so! Hard! To eat!

He mentally cursed every chef in the world.

What imperial nobility, what ducal mansion? The imperial chef's skill level isn't even as good as that Shaxian snack shop downstairs from his former family's house.

At least Shaxian Snacks won't treat his stomach like a garbage can!

Pei Yuening threw herself onto the bed and buried her face in the pillow.

The contents of my stomach were still churning, and that salty and fishy taste seemed to be etched onto my tongue, refusing to dissipate.

He lay there for a while, then turned over.

After lying there for a while, I turned over again.

"I'm so hungry..."

To be precise, I was both hungry and nauseous.

No wonder he's so grumpy when he eats!

The original owner of this body was probably poisoned by this kind of food since childhood, and her taste threshold had dropped to an irreversible level, but Pei Yuening is different.

His tongue has a memory; it remembers the sweet and sour aroma of scrambled eggs with tomatoes when they come out of the pan, the melt-in-your-mouth texture of braised pork when it's stewed to perfection, and the rising steam of a bowl of hot soup noodles on a winter's day.

All he has now is a plate of charred steak and a bowl of soup that tastes like dishwater.

Ah, life...

Pei Yuening tossed and turned in bed for half an hour, trying to fight hunger with sleep.

But the cavity in my stomach kept getting bigger and bigger, big enough to fit a whole roasted chicken.

No, roast chicken isn't enough; we also need mashed potatoes and gravy, and an apple pie for dessert.

He sat up abruptly.

No more.

He could accept being transmigrated into a book, accept being cannon fodder, and accept being hanged two months later—but he couldn't accept starving to death.

Pei Yuening glanced out the window.

Night had fallen, and the entire Duke's mansion was silent.

Okay, so he has to go out and find food now.

Otherwise, you wouldn't even have the strength to hang yourself.

Just do it.

Pei Yuening tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack.

The corridor was deserted, the light from the wall lamps flickering slightly in the night breeze; there wasn't a soul in sight.

He immediately slipped out.

The Duke's kitchen was on the east side of the first floor. He had walked there once during the day with the butler and roughly remembered the direction.

Pei Yuening walked barefoot on the cold stone floor, lifting the hem of her bathrobe, moving along the wall like a ghost.

I've never felt this guilty even when I sneaked snacks from my roommate in the middle of the night in my past life.

The kitchen door was unlocked.

Pei Yuening slipped inside, closed the door behind her, and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Moonlight streamed in through the skylight, illuminating the entire kitchen.

He stood there for a few seconds, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light, and then began to look around the space.

It was huge, bigger than any home kitchen he had ever seen in his previous life.

In the center of the kitchen is a huge countertop, with a row of cast iron stoves against the wall, and various sizes of pots and pans and smoked hams and sausages hanging from the ceiling.

On the other side, the shelves were neatly stacked with earthenware pots, spice bottles, and plenty of ingredients.

Pei Yuening's eyes lit up.

He was like a mouse that had fallen into a rice jar, and began rummaging through the kitchen cabinets.

Flour, eggs, milk, butter.

To his even greater surprise, the world actually had sugar, and the quality was quite good.

He also found a small jar of honey in the corner; it was clear and bright in color and had a faint floral fragrance.

Uh. So how do chefs manage to turn these wonderful ingredients into mosaics?

That's enough.

Pei Yuening rolled up the sleeves of her bathrobe, revealing two slender, white wrists.

He cleared a space on the counter and skillfully sifted the flour.

Beat the eggs and melt the butter in a double boiler.

All the movements were performed in one smooth motion, without the slightest mishap.

Finally, he placed the frying pan on the magic furnace and began heating it over a low flame.

The magic stones in this world are amazing, and those in noble homes are even more exquisite, almost exactly like gas stoves in the real world.

Pei Yuening spread a thin layer of butter on the bottom of the pan, then scooped up a spoonful of batter.

With a flick of his wrist, the batter spread evenly across the bottom of the pot.

The sizzling sound was particularly clear in the quiet kitchen.

Fine bubbles began to appear on the surface of the batter, and the edges gradually solidified, turning light brown.

The aroma of butter wafted along the edge of the pan, and Pei Yuening deftly flipped it with a spatula.

The other side of the waffle is exposed to the air, its golden-brown surface smooth and flat.

Then he repeated the above actions, making three in one go.

Finally, he stacked the three waffles together, drizzled them with honey, and garnished them with a small mint leaf on top.

perfect!

Pei Yuening stood by the stove and, while it was still hot, cut off a piece and stuffed it into her mouth.

The moment the pancake melted on her tongue, Pei Yuening almost burst into tears.

Vocal! It's so delicious!

As the warm, soft food, fragrant with butter and eggs, entered his stomach, his nerves, which had been tormented by the world all day like being slowly cut by a dull knife, finally relaxed.

He wolfed down the entire plate, practically licking it clean.

"belch--"

A satisfied burp echoed in the quiet kitchen, and Pei Yuening let out a big sigh of relief.

He crouched down and carefully washed the plates, put them back, and then returned the way he came.

Back in his room, he patted his swollen belly and happily lay back down on the bed.

Being well-fed makes me feel good, and I can sleep soundly too.