His physiological preference

Yang Zhiyan paused for a moment while washing the cherries.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Jiang Siya's voice rose. "I ran into him in the hallway when I came up. The man was standing at the door, wearing dark pajamas. He was very tall and quite handsome."

She paused, as if recalling that scene.

"But that look in her eyes, oh my god," she patted her chest, making an exaggerated "I was terrified" expression, "I almost peed my pants."

Yang Zhiyan turned to look at her.

Jiang Siya was not a naive person. Her father was a businessman, and he had taken her to many social events, where the people sitting at the dinner table were all prominent figures.

"Is it really that bad?" Yang Zhiyan put the cherries in her hand into the fruit plate and wiped her hands on her apron.

"Why not?" Jiang Siya followed her into the living room, sat down on the sofa, and sank into the soft cushions.

"The way he looked at me was like I was stealing from his doorstep. Before I could even react, he slammed the door shut."

Yang Zhiyan imagined the scene in her mind: Qin Yuzheng standing at the door, dressed in dark pajamas, looking at Jiang Siya expressionlessly, then turning around and closing the door. She didn't know why, but she found it a little funny.

"He probably... after all prefers quiet," Yang Zhiyan said.

Jiang Siya glanced at her, her gaze filled with scrutiny.

She had known Yang Zhiyan for six years and knew that she was not someone who would speak up for strangers.

"Are you very familiar with him?" Jiang Siya asked.

"Not really," Yang Zhiyan squatted down across from the coffee table and placed the fruit plate on it. "He's my landlord's grandson, he lives across the street. He came over a few days ago and had a bowl of ginger tea, and then he caught a cold."

Jiang Siya raised an eyebrow.

The curve of her lips was small, but meaningful. She said nothing, picked up a cherry, put it in her mouth, chewed slowly, and kept her gaze fixed on Yang Zhiyan's face.

"Your landlord's grandson," she repeated, as if pondering whether there was any hidden meaning in the sentence, "How old?"

"I don't know, maybe around thirty."

Are you married?

Yang Zhiyan was taken aback by her question, then shook her head and finally said, "Grandma Qin said it's not married yet."

"You're so old," Jiang Siya spat the cherry pit into her hand and threw it into the trash can, "Won't there be something wrong with you not being married?"

"He's Grandma Qin's grandson," Yang Zhiyan said, her tone carrying an air of "What's wrong with that?"

"Grandma Qin rented the house to me so cheaply, and she had a cold, so I made her a bowl of ginger tea. Isn't this just normal social interaction?"

Jiang Siya looked at her without saying a word.

Yang Zhiyan felt a little uncomfortable under her gaze, so she stood up, said, "I'll go cook," and turned to go into the kitchen.

Soon, the sound of chopping vegetables filled the kitchen. The knife landed on the cutting board with a quick, steady, resonant thud.

Jiang Siya sat on the sofa, placed the fruit plate on her lap, and ate cherries while looking towards the kitchen.

The kitchen door was open, and she could see Yang Zhiyan's back. She was wearing a shirt, blue wide-leg pants, and a light gray apron tied around her waist with a bow at the back. The two ends of the bow hung down and swayed gently as she chopped vegetables.

She chopped scallions, ginger, and garlic; blanched the pork ribs; and peeled and cut the lotus root into chunks.

Once the water in the clay pot had boiled, she put the pork ribs and lotus root in together, added a few slices of ginger, covered the pot, and simmered it over low heat.

Next, she started preparing the chicken wings, making two cuts on the back of each wing to help them absorb the marinade. She put them in a bowl, added cooking wine, light soy sauce, oyster sauce, and honey, mixed them well with her hands, and marinated them.

Then came the prawns. The whiskers were trimmed, the veins were removed, and they were rinsed clean and arranged on a plate in circles, like a flower.

Every step was crisp and decisive, without any hesitation, as if it had been done countless times.

Jiang Siya leaned back on the sofa, watching that busy figure, and suddenly felt a pang of heartache.

Such excellent cooking skills were honed in that home from a young age.

"Zhiyan," she called from the living room, "after you moved out, didn't your family cause any trouble?"

The sound of chopping vegetables in the kitchen stopped for a moment, then started again.

"This is outrageous." Yang Zhiyan's voice came from the kitchen, not loud but very clear, "My mother is demanding alimony from me."

"What?!" Jiang Siya sat bolt upright on the sofa, nearly knocking over the fruit plate. "Your mother's only in her early fifties, and she wants you to pay alimony? She might as well rob us!"

Yang Zhiyan peeked out from the kitchen doorway, holding a kitchen knife in her hand, with a faint smile on her face.

That smile carried a mixture of helplessness and relief.

"So I moved out," she said, then shrank back in to continue chopping vegetables.

Jiang Siya placed the fruit plate on the coffee table, stood up, walked to the kitchen doorway, leaned against the doorframe, and watched Yang Zhiyan slice tomatoes. The tomatoes were sliced ​​very thinly and evenly, each slice being roughly the same thickness.

"Zhiyan, let me tell you," Jiang Siya's voice was lower and more serious than before, "you did the right thing. That kind of family should have ended long ago."

Yang Zhiyan scooped the chopped tomatoes into a bowl, put down the knife, and rinsed her hands under the tap. Water droplets dripped from her fingertips and fell into the stainless steel sink, making a soft sound.

"It's not that it's broken," she turned off the tap, turned around and looked at Jiang Siya, "it means you're no longer tied up."

Jiang Siya looked at her, and her nose suddenly stung with tears. She walked over and hugged Yang Zhiyan from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder.

"You'll definitely have a good life from now on," Jiang Siya said, her voice muffled in the crook of her shoulder.

Yang Zhiyan patted the hand that was wrapped around her waist, but didn't say anything.

The soup in the casserole was bubbling away, and white steam escaped from the gaps in the lid, spreading throughout the kitchen.

The aroma of pork ribs and lotus root mingled together, warm and comforting, like an invisible quilt enveloping the entire room.

opposite.

Qin Yuzheng sat on the sofa, with several documents spread out on the coffee table in front of him.

He didn't go out today. He received two phone calls in the morning, handled some work-related matters, and then nothing else happened.

Weekends are not much different from weekdays for him, except that he deliberately brought work home today.

He had been sitting on this sofa for over an hour, flipping through the document three times, but hadn't absorbed a single word.

Because he had been listening to the sounds coming from outside the door across the street.

So he deliberately left the door a crack, sat on the shoe-changing stool in the entryway, and pretended to tie his shoelaces. After about ten minutes, the elevator rang, and a woman stepped out.

He stood up and opened the door.

The woman saw him and paused, startled. He glanced at her; round face, red lips, wearing a pale yellow dress, carrying something in her hand. It wasn't her.

He didn't say anything and closed the door.

Then he cursed himself inwardly, "What are you doing, Qin Yuzheng? You're a secretary, squatting by the door peeking to see if anyone's coming, and then deliberately opening the door... and..."

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples with the heel of his hand.

No ambition.

When those three words popped into his head, he found it funny.

Lately, he's been calling himself "useless" more and more often, to the point that it's almost become his catchphrase.

He thought for a moment, picked up his phone, scrolled to "Liu Minlan" in his contacts, and dialed the number.

"Ah Zheng, you're such a busy person, how come you have time to call me?" Liu Minlan's voice came from the other end of the line, with a lazy smile. In the background, there were sounds of children running around, so she was probably at home with her kids.

Qin Yuzheng cleared his throat.

Liu Minlan heard the throat-clearing sound and roughly guessed what had happened, because he had distracted the child in the background noise. He heard Liu Minlan say, "Baby, go find your mother," and then the environment became quiet.

"I have a friend," Qin Yuzheng said awkwardly, "who has a crush on the girl who lives across the street. What's the best way to pursue her?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Liu Minlan laughed.

"Holy crap," Liu Minlan's voice rose a half-octave, "you bought the house across the street from her so quickly?"

"It wasn't me," Qin Yuzheng's voice was flat, but his ears were already burning. "It was my friend."