First, then, love.

The screen is lit up, playing a video tutorial from Xiaohongshu.

In the video, a blogger with a sweet voice is explaining: "Family members, today I'm going to teach you how to stew bird's nest with rock sugar. First, we need to use small tweezers to carefully remove the fine feathers from the soaked bird's nest one by one. You must be patient!"

Hearing the word "family," He Zheng's lips twitched violently.

He placed his phone face down on the table, too lazy to look at it anymore.

I looked down at the white ceramic bowl in front of me.

In the bowl, the bird's nest, which had been soaked for four hours, was crystal clear, but upon closer inspection, it was found to contain countless tiny black downy hairs.

He Zheng took a deep breath.

Extend your right hand.

With this hand, he can hold down a submachine gun with extremely strong recoil with one hand, disassemble a pistol blindly in ten seconds, and precisely cut the red and blue wires of a bomb in the dark.

Rough, strong, covered with calluses and scars.

Now, this hand is holding a small pair of medical tweezers that are only a few centimeters long.

He Zheng bent down slightly, his sharp, hawk-like black eyes fixed on the fine downy hairs in the bowl, which were even finer than a strand of hair.

His brows were furrowed, he held his breath, and his wrists were suspended in the air.

The tweezers tip carefully probed into the water and caught a small black hair.

It flicks upwards.

It slipped and didn't stay in place.

He Zheng gritted his teeth, his jaw muscles tensing.

Again.

Clamp it in place and slowly lift it upwards.

I successfully picked it out and rinsed it in the bowl of water next to me.

"Hold."

He cursed under his breath, a fine layer of sweat beading on his forehead.

This job is absolutely inhuman; it's more tiring than a 5-kilometer armed cross-country run and more mentally taxing than bomb disposal.

Rough fingers gripped the tiny tweezers, and soon their fingers began to stiffen and cramp.

But he didn't stop.

He stood there, bent over, in front of the island counter, patiently picking out each one.

I spent a full forty minutes choosing.

They're practically eye to eye.

Finally, the bowl of bird's nest was cleaned thoroughly, leaving it spotless.

He Zheng let out a long breath and threw the tweezers into the sink with a crisp "clang".

I rubbed my sore neck.

Turn around, take out the pot, and boil water.

Pour the cleaned bird's nest into the white electric slow cooker.

As instructed in the video, I added purified water, a few red dates, a small handful of goji berries, and two pieces of yellow rock sugar.

Put the lid on, plug in the power, and press the "Simmer" button.

After doing all this, he leaned against the edge of the island platform, arms crossed over his chest.

My gaze swept across the spacious living room and landed on the woman standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.

Shu Yao was playing the climax of the piece.

Her body swayed slightly with the music, her slender fingers dancing rapidly across the strings.

Sunlight shone on her fair profile, gilding it with a soft golden edge, making even the fine downy hairs on her face clearly visible.

Quiet, beautiful, exuding a sense of otherworldly elegance.

He Zheng looked at her, his sharp edge completely concealed, leaving only an unyielding, thick, and indulgent aura.

This is He Zheng's home.

There are cats, dogs, a steaming kitchen, and a lovely wife who's always causing trouble.

Forty minutes later.

The electric slow cooker emitted a "beep beep beep" beeping sound.

The bird's nest stew is ready.

He Zheng turned around and lifted the lid.

A sweet aroma of red dates and rock sugar instantly rose with the white steam and filled the kitchen.

It looks pretty good, crystal clear, and the consistency is just right.

He took a small Japanese porcelain bowl with a lid and carefully filled it with a soup spoon.

He placed a heat-resistant mat on his hand, picked up the scalding hot porcelain bowl, and took a small silver spoon from the drawer next to him.

He turned around, walked out of the kitchen, and headed towards the living room.

Shu Yao had just finished playing a piece.

The last note faded away, slowly dissipating into the air.

She let out a long sigh of relief, put the bow aside, and rested the cello against her legs.

He raised his hand and rubbed his aching right wrist; the thin calluses on his fingertips shone slightly white in the sunlight.

Just as I was about to stand up, I heard footsteps behind me.

Calm and composed, yet powerful.

She didn't need to turn around; she knew who it was.

"Finished pooping?"

He Zheng's voice sounded from behind, deep and hoarse, with a hint of laziness.

Shu Yao turned her head away.

I immediately noticed the comical floral apron around his waist.

I couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Eyebrows crooked.

"Captain He, if your team sees you dressed like that, your reputation will be completely ruined."

She was in a good mood and couldn't help but tease him.

He Zheng walked over, accepting her mockery without a second thought, completely disregarding any notion of saving face.

"Sweep the floor if you want, I'm not going to be the team leader at home, I'm going to be a farmhand."

He replied confidently and sat down cross-legged next to her.

His tall figure blocked some of the glaring sunlight, enveloping her in his own shadow.

He handed over the steaming small porcelain bowl in his hand.

"Wife, eat."

Concise and to the point, issuing instructions.

Shu Yao looked down.

Crystal clear bird's nest, red dates, and goji berries.

The presentation was surprisingly good.

"You made this? You can even stew this?" She raised an eyebrow in surprise.

This man usually cooks so roughly that he's like a cook; he cuts ribs like stones and potato shreds like French fries.

Why do I have the patience to prepare such delicate tonics today?

"I learned it by watching my phone. It wasn't difficult, but picking out the flaws was a hassle."

He Zheng spoke in a flat tone, as if he wasn't the one who had just been sweating and bending over in the kitchen, holding tweezers.

"Mom brought this over, saying it's good for replenishing blood, eat it while it's hot."

Shu Yao looked at him, a slight stirring in her heart.

This man, clumsy and rough, always kept in mind every word she and her family said, and then put it into practice with the most direct actions.

She didn't reach out to take the bowl.

Instead, he slightly raised his chin, putting on airs again.

"My hands are sore, I don't have the strength to play the violin anymore."

She leaned back against the sofa, blinked her peach blossom eyes, and a hint of cunning flashed in them.

"You feed me."

To order people around with a sense of entitlement.

If it were anyone else, He Zheng would have slammed the bowl on the coffee table with a cold face and said, "Eat it or don't, it's up to you."

But now, Captain He has been completely tamed.

He raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes filled with affection.

"Your arms are sore? You didn't seem weak at all when you were hugging my neck last night."

He lowered his voice and made lewd jokes without batting an eye.

Shu Yao blushed, glared at him fiercely, and kicked him lightly on the thick cashmere carpet with her toe.

"Shut up! I'm going to throw up if you don't feed me!"

"Feed".

He Zheng chuckled softly.

He held the small porcelain bowl steady and picked up the small silver spoon.

I scooped up a spoonful of bird's nest.

He brought it to his lips, blew on it gently, and held it firmly as a mountain.

He brought it to her lips.

"Open your mouth, my little darling," he said in a low, husky voice, unaware of how much he doted on her.

Shu Yao slightly parted her red lips.

Hold the spoon in your mouth.

The warm and sweet bird's nest glides into your mouth, the rock sugar has just the right amount of sweetness, not greasy at all, and the bird's nest is stewed until it is soft, smooth and melts in your mouth.

It actually tasted really good, even better than what she used to make herself.

"How was it?" He Zheng stared at her face and asked for his evaluation, which was a rare occurrence for him.

"It's alright," Shu Yao swallowed, stubbornly giving herself a barely passing grade.

"It's barely edible."

He Zheng snorted coldly, seeing through her act of saying one thing but meaning another.

I scooped up another spoonful, blew on it to cool it down, and fed it to him.

The sunlight gently shone on the two of them.

Beside it, a sleeping retired military dog ​​and a domineering, arrogant cat.