Conan: When Shinjiu and Maolilan swap bodies

This word is completely different from Qingze.

She pursed her lips, suppressing the urge to laugh, and gently traced his eyebrows and eyes through the air.

The sleeping person suddenly stirred, and the hand that was tracing in the air was caught.

Qingze didn't open his eyes, but his voice came out lazily from his throat:

"Are you not sleeping because you want to do something else?"

Ran Mouri's face flushed bright red instantly. She quickly pulled her hand back and covered her face with the blanket.

"You're still awake?"

"You woke me up."

"I'm not moving anymore, you should go to sleep."

"I can't sleep." Qingze reached out, took her hand, and gently pulled it down.

Ran Mouri struggled under the covers for a moment, her voice rising several octaves: "I'm really going to hit you!"

"Go ahead and hit me, hit me all you want."

"Ah! You shameless bastard!"

"Scolding me more, I love to hear it."

"what--"

Ran Mouri threw off the covers, her face flushed red, and tried to run away while supporting herself on the bed.

Before I could even sit up, a hand pressed me back down.

Qingze tucked her back into bed, wrapped his arms tightly around her, and rested his chin on the top of her head.

"I'm not teasing you anymore." His voice softened, with a sleepy nasal tone. "Go to sleep."

He closed his eyes, and his breathing quickly calmed down.

Ran Mouri froze in his arms, her heart pounding, and it took her a long time to calm down.

After a long while, she muttered something under her breath:

"I just love to tease people."

Qingze slept until evening.

When I woke up, the bed was empty, and there was only a faint warmth left in the blankets.

He lay on the bed staring blankly at the ceiling, his eyelids still heavy, but his nose twitched—the aroma of food wafted up.

He closed his eyes and smelled it again.

It tastes like curry.

He threw off the covers, got out of bed, threw on a coat, and went downstairs in his slippers.

Footsteps echoed softly on the stairs, and the fragrance grew stronger the further down you went.

In the kitchen, Ran Mouri was standing in front of the stove wearing an apron.

The pot was bubbling and steaming, and she gently stirred it with a spoon, her profile bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun.

The range hood was humming, and she didn't hear the footsteps behind her.

Qingze leaned against the door and watched for a while.

The air from the range hood made her stray hairs bounce; she tucked them behind her ear and continued stirring the curry in the pot.

He looked at it for a while before walking over.

He reached out from behind and gently wrapped his arms around her waist. He rested his chin on the top of her head, nuzzled her, and smelled the scent of shampoo mixed with the aroma of curry.

"What are you doing?" His voice still carried the languor of someone who had just woken up.

Ran Mouri paused for a moment with her spoon, then continued stirring, a smile curving her lips.

"curry."

Qingze's gaze passed over her shoulder and landed on the pot.

The potatoes and carrots were stewed until soft and tender, and the curry sauce was thick and bubbling just right.

"It's rare for me to eat curry," he said, with a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Hmm,” Ran Mouri sprinkled a little black pepper into the pot, “I want to eat this.”

Qingze didn't say anything.

He rested his chin on the top of her head again, tightened his arms around her, and held her even closer.

The setting sun slanted in through the window, casting long, overlapping shadows of the two people.

How much longer?

"Almost done." Ran Mouri scooped up a little with a spoon, blew on it, and held it to his lips. "Try it."

Qingze lowered his head and took a sip from her hand.

He smacked his lips.

"good to eat."

Ran Mouri turned her head to look at him, trying to discern the truthfulness of his words. "Is it too bland? Should we add some more salt?"

"No need, just follow your own taste. Too salty and it won't taste good."

"Then let's set the table!"

Qingze chuckled, let go of her hand, and turned to open the cupboard.

The curry is plated, the rice is served, and two sets of bowls and chopsticks are placed facing each other on the small dining table.

Ran Mouri took off her apron, hung it up, and sat down opposite Aozawa. The sky outside the window had already darkened, and the warm yellow light enveloped this small space, with the aroma of curry wafting in the air.

"I'm starting," she said softly, her hands clasped together.

Qingze rested his chin on his hand and watched her without touching his chopsticks.

Ran Mouri picked up a piece of potato and looked up to meet his gaze.

"If you're not going to eat, why are you looking at me?"

Qingze continued to look at her intently, his gaze seemingly trying to penetrate her eyes and see into the depths of her being.

“I’m wondering,” he said, his voice barely audible, “is this a dream or reality?”

Ran Mouri paused for a moment with her chopsticks.

The potato on the tip of my chopsticks was still steaming, hanging in mid-air, and I forgot to put it in my mouth.

She looked into his eyes, and those eyes stared intently at her, filled with a rare, almost fragile earnestness.

My heart suddenly ached.

"That's certainly true. I'm sitting right next to you."

She put down her chopsticks, reached out, and took his hand that was resting on the table.

Her palms were warm, and she enveloped his fingers, squeezing them tightly.

“Look,” she looked up at him, her eyes smiling, “my hands are warm.”

Qingze lowered his head and looked at the hand that was covering the back of his hand.

Delicate, warm, real.

He slowly closed his fingers, clenching the hand tightly.

"Ah."

He nodded, his voice low.

This is a warm and happy reality.

It's not a dream. It's not an illusion.

"Eat." Ran Mouri pulled her hand back and scooped a full spoonful of curry into his bowl.

She lowered her head and ate a couple of mouthfuls of rice, then suddenly remembered something.

"By the way, Kuroba agreed and said he'll come over for dinner tomorrow."

Qingze nodded, picked up his chopsticks, and began to eat.

What do you want to eat tomorrow night?

Ran Mouri's eyes lit up, and she chewed her food while thinking for a moment.

"Hot pot, I guess," she swallowed, her tone tinged with anticipation. "Lamb hot pot looks delicious."

Qingze looked into her bright eyes and smiled.

"Then let's have hot pot."

Chapter 570 Eating hot pot is lively with many people

Kaito Kuroba arrived in Beika Town earlier than the agreed time.

Since his overconfidence and subsequent disastrous defeat, he hasn't been to this area much.

With Shinichi Kudo "dead" and Conan Edogawa, Kaito Kid's "nemesis," hospitalized, he has no plans to steal jewels for the time being, so there's really no need for him to come to Beika Town.

Passing by Poirot Cafe, he peeked inside through the glass.

The blonde shop assistant with the special status was not there; only one person was busy.

The sign for the Mouri Detective Agency upstairs remained unchanged, and everything seemed normal.

But Koniac's invitation could not have been without reason.

Just because things look calm doesn't mean nothing has happened.

For some reason, he felt inexplicably heavy-hearted.

It felt like a hand was gently pressing on his chest, making his breathing slow down. The intuition that something was about to be revealed was inexplicable yet impossible to shake off.

He found the house according to the address.

There was no nameplate hanging at the door, and warm yellow light shone from inside the house.

He paused outside the door for two seconds, then reached out and rang the doorbell.

In the room.

Qingze, wearing an apron, was standing in front of the stove cooking the bottom of the mutton hot pot.

Steam rose from the pot, filling the room with a delicious aroma. Ran Mouri was chopping vegetables nearby, the knife making a rhythmic thud as it hit the cutting board.

The doorbell rang.

Qingze raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"Looks like we have guests." He turned off the stove. "Perfect, they can be served now."

He placed the electric cooker on the dining table, wiped his hands, and then slowly walked towards the door.

Kaito Kuroba stared intently at the door from outside.

Footsteps approached from afar, and the door was opened.

A tall figure walked out against the light, the indoor light shining through from behind him, casting a soft outline around the edge of his figure.

Kaito Kuroba's heart inexplicably jumped.

Unlike the Koniak I saw in the parking lot last time—the person who came out of the house was no different from the "Aozawa" played by Ran Mouri that day.

The apron she wore inexplicably added to the homey atmosphere; her eyebrows and eyes were peaceful, and her whole aura was as calm as a glass of warm water.

If he didn't know the truth, he would probably subconsciously mistake the person in front of him for a different person than Koniak.

He couldn't understand how the same person could have such a different temperament.

Qingze's gaze lingered on his face for several seconds before a slow smile curved his lips.

"welcome."