His physiological preference

Qin Yuzheng carried two shopping bags, one containing groceries and the other snacks. Yang Zhiyan offered to help, but Qin Yuzheng declined.

Qin Yuzheng joked that making a girl carry heavy objects would damage his gentlemanly conduct.

Yang Zhiyan didn't say anything, but she felt that this big leader was quite approachable and easy to get along with.

Yang Zhiyan opened the door.

"Come in," she said.

Qin Yuzheng followed her inside and changed into slippers.

Qin Yuzheng put on the dark gray slippers, and they fit perfectly. He thought to himself, "Could these have been bought especially for me?" He was so happy.

The living room was quite different from when he last came. There were many more things: a knitted rug on the sofa, a carpet under the coffee table, green plants in the corner, and succulents on the windowsill.

The curtains have been changed. Originally, there was a layer of white gauze, but she added a layer of light beige cotton linen. When the curtains are drawn, they filter out a soft light, like a thin mist covering the whole room.

But the balcony was a bit messy. Parts of the storage rack were scattered on the floor, with wooden boards, screws, and hardware all over the place.

Next to it were piles of disassembled workbench parts, several crossbeams leaning against the wall, and drawer slides scattered to one side, as if an earthquake had just occurred.

When Yang Zhiyan saw the mess on the balcony, her face flushed slightly.

"The house is a bit messy," she said, walking quickly over to cover the old cloth more thoroughly, but the cloth was too small and couldn't cover everything. "Please don't mind."

"It's nothing," Qin Yuzheng said, carrying the shopping bag to the kitchen. As he came out, he passed the balcony, glanced at the pile of parts, squatted down, picked up a piece of wood, flipped it over to examine the holes on the back, and asked, "Are you packing something in there?"

Yang Zhiyan stood behind him, wiping her hands on her apron, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"Hmm, the shelves and the worktable. I'd only installed half of them when I realized I'd done it wrong."

She spoke softly, with a hint of frustration, "I studied the instruction manual for ages, but I still don't quite understand it."

Qin Yuzheng examined the wooden board from both sides twice, then glanced at the other parts on the ground, and had a general idea of ​​what was going on. He stood up and patted the dust off his hands onto his trousers.

"Miss Yang," he said, "you go cook. I'll set up this shelf."

Yang Zhiyan was stunned for a moment.

"Brother Qin, there's no rush. I'll study it myself."

"It was just a small thing." He looked at her, his gaze calm.

"You cook, I'll help with some chores, it's perfectly reasonable." Qin Yuzheng had already rolled up his sleeves and squatted down to start unscrewing the screws she had installed incorrectly.

His hands were steady, his knuckles were distinct when he held the screwdriver, and each screw tightened precisely and powerfully, unlike hers, who kept slipping the screwdriver after a long time and even scratching a mark on the wooden board.

Yang Zhiyan stood beside him and watched him for a few seconds. His back was squatting on the ground, his light blue shirt stretched into two straight creases by the lines of his shoulder blades, his hair at the back of his neck was shaved very short, and his exposed skin was tanned to a light wheat color.

When he tightens screws, the muscles in his forearm bulge slightly, and the veins on the back of his hand stand out.

"Um," she began, her voice a little tense, "I have another worktable, it's only half-installed, but the crossbeam is installed backwards, could you...?"

She stopped mid-sentence and laughed shyly.

"The beam is installed backwards?" Qin Yuzheng turned to look at her, his face showing no displeasure, but rather a hint of interest. The fact that she was willing to trouble him meant their relationship was progressing. "Did you tighten the screws?"

"Twist it."

"Is it tightened?"

"It's very tight."

"We need to take it apart first." He stood up, walked to the pile of parts on the workbench, squatted down to look at them for a while, then picked up a Phillips screwdriver and started tightening the screws.

"Go cook," Qin Yuzheng said without looking up, his screwdriver spinning rapidly. "Leave the shelf to me."

Yang Zhiyan stood in the kitchen, taking out the groceries she had just bought from the supermarket one by one.

The sea bass was to be steamed, so she marinated it first. She made a few cuts on the fish, rubbed it with salt and cooking wine, stuffed a few slices of ginger into the fish's belly, and set it aside to marinate.

I had some spare ribs left over from the last soup, so I'm making sweet and sour spare ribs today.

She noticed he seemed to really like scrambled eggs with tomatoes; the last time he ate noodles, he mixed the sauce from the tomato and egg stir-fry into the noodles and ate them all. Next, a simple stir-fried vegetable dish.

Three dishes and one soup.

As she chopped scallions, ginger, and garlic on the cutting board, she heard the sounds of a screwdriver turning, the clicking of wooden boards being joined together, and the occasional footsteps of him standing up and walking around in the living room.

The sounds blended together like a song without melody—unpleasant to the ear, but reassuring to her.

She peeked out from the kitchen doorway.

Qin Yuzheng was squatting on the balcony, having already installed all six shelves of the shelf and was now fixing them to the wall with expansion bolts.

He was half-squatting, one knee on the ground and the other foot on the ground, his body slightly leaning forward, holding the electric drill in both hands. When the drill bit went into the wall, the muscles in his forearm tensed up and the veins stood out.

The electric drill made a "buzz" sound, and she pulled her head back.

After a while, she peeked out again.

The shelves are already fixed to the wall.

He placed the three succulents on the top shelf, where the sunlight shone perfectly. The leaves of the Peach Egg succulent were a lovely pink, like a shy little girl.

The bear paw prints were placed on the second shelf, next to several books she had just bought: a book on cheongsam tailoring techniques, a selection of Tang and Song dynasty poems, and a cookbook.

She pulled her head back and stood in front of the stove for a while, her ears feeling hot.

He's really captivating when he's actually working.

As the food was almost ready, the living room fell silent. She plated the sweet and sour pork ribs and carried them out, only to see Qin Yuzheng squatting on the balcony floor, with the worktable she had only half-finished in front of him.

He has already removed the crossbeam that she installed incorrectly and is reassembling it.

He placed the instruction manual on the ground and tightened the screws while reading it. He would stop every now and then to compare the distance between the two holes with his hand to make sure it was correct before continuing.

He didn't use his phone to look up guides or watch video tutorials; he just relied on the instruction manual she couldn't understand and a screwdriver to piece together the scattered parts into a large table.

Yang Zhiyan placed the sweet and sour pork ribs on the dining table, walked to the balcony door, leaned against the door frame, and watched him install the last screw.

"All done." The voice was jubilant, like a worker who had completed a project, carrying a simple sense of satisfaction.

He turned around and saw Yang Zhiyan standing at the door, still holding the plate of sweet and sour pork ribs in her hand, her apron still on, stained with soy sauce and oil.

She stood there looking at him, her eyes holding a soft light.

"Let's eat first," Yang Zhiyan said. "We can do it after we eat."

Qin Yuzheng washed the dust off his hands and sat down at the dining table.

Four dishes were placed in front of him: sweet and sour pork ribs, scrambled eggs with tomatoes, stir-fried seasonal vegetables, and steamed sea bass.

The rice was freshly cooked, served in two bowls, white and steaming hot. Chopsticks were placed neatly on either side of the bowls.

He picked up his chopsticks and took a piece of sweet and sour pork ribs.

The ribs were fried until crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, coated with a sweet and sour sauce that was both tangy and delicious. With each bite, the meat separated naturally from the bone, requiring no force to tear.

I picked up another piece, and then another.

"Is it delicious?" Yang Zhiyan asked.

"Delicious," he said, his voice muffled as he still had the rib in his mouth.

Yang Zhiyan smiled and placed a piece of green vegetable in his bowl.

"Try this."

Yang Zhiyan was stunned after finishing picking up the food. She thought she was having dinner with Jiang Siting. What was she doing? Could the big boss be a germaphobe?

Qin Yuzheng looked at the green vegetables in his bowl. They were green and glossy, and against the white rice, they looked like a piece of jade fallen on the snow.

Seeing his reaction, Yang Zhiyan thought, "Oh no, I really want to pull it back, but I don't dare."