Feng Qian was already quite handso, standing at 177 cm with well-proportioned features. If it weren’t for him constantly running around with Feng Shuyan, he’d probably attract won’s attention on the streets.
Now, with a pair of glasses on, he looked even more striking, exuding an intellectual aura—completely different from Liu Changqing’s appearance.
Hearing Liu Changqing’s question, Feng Qian quietly closed the door behind him and responded in a low voice.
"Just a small issue, wearing glasses to cover it up."
"A small issue?"
After hearing this, Liu Changqing finally noticed sothing off—his eye sockets weren’t symtrical. It looked like... his right eye had taken a punch.
Because of the glasses, it wasn’t obvious unless one looked closely.
Realizing this, Liu Changqing suddenly beca interested.
"That’s rare. Did you punch yourself in your sleep during a nightmare, or did you accidentally trip and slam into your own fist?"
"Don’t joke around..."
Feng Qian placed the docunts in his hand onto the table, pulled over a chair, and sat down. Then, as if recalling sothing, he turned halfway around and looked at Liu Changqing.
"Oh, right... Old Liu, I ant to tell you when I ca in—An Yuanyao is here."
"She’s here? And you didn’t say so sooner?!"
The mont he heard those words, Liu Changqing imdiately reacted. After a brief mont of surprise, he strode toward the door.
Watching the door close behind him, Feng Qian shook his head with a small smile. He then reached up, removed his glasses, and lightly pressed on his eye socket—there was a slight sting.
With a wry smile, he sighed inwardly. He hadn’t expected that such a small, slender figure could throw such a powerful punch.
After a mont, he put his glasses back on, flipped open the docunts on the table, and muttered to himself.
"Next ti we et... I’ll explain properly."
—
As soon as Liu Changqing stepped outside, he saw An Yuanyao.
She stood at the entrance, holding a lunchbox.
Lately, An Yuanyao had taken over Liu Changqing’s als. Ever since his foot healed, she rarely let him cook anymore. Given her foundation in cooking, though she initially struggled with the slightly larger knives, she quickly adapted.
Now, she often prepared lunch at ho and brought it to Liu Changqing at the office.
Her als were always elaborate, similar to the insulated lunchboxes people took when visiting hospital patients—three-tiered, with soup at the bottom, rice in the middle, and dishes on the top.
At first, Liu Changqing had been reluctant to let her go through the trouble. After all, most of his coworkers either brought food from ho or went out to nearby restaurants together.
But he couldn’t resist her enthusiasm—or the envious glances from his colleagues. Deep down, he was a little happy about it.
What man could refuse a woman bringing him lunch?
Maybe so could, but he definitely couldn’t.
Liu Changqing quickly approached her, suppressing his joy and pretending to be nonchalant.
"Seriously, the weather’s turning cloudy today. I told you over the phone..."
"I was almost done cooking when you called... The kids are at school, and I can’t finish all this by myself."
"Fine, fine. Just so happens I’m hungry. It’s not quite lunchti yet, but who cares? I’ll eat first."
After a brief exchange, Liu Changqing took the lunchbox from her hands, then grabbed her hand and led her toward their usual little room.
The boss’s happiness was plain for all the employees to see.
As usual, a male employee—glasses-wearing, perpetually listless—witnessed the whole scene. His expression grew increasingly awkward.
He had assud that since the boss’s wife hadn’t been around lately, he’d be spared the heartbreak of seeing their lovey-dovey monts.
But the mont he saw them holding hands and heading toward the room, jealousy twisted his face.
His desk mate, Wu Yu, noticed his expression and asked curiously,
"What’s wrong with you?"
"Don’t you think the boss and his wife are getting more blatant? We’re all still here, but they’re acting all lovey-dovey right in front of us. Today it’s just hand-holding, but the other day—"
Halfway through his sentence, he suddenly covered his face with both hands. The more he spoke, the more bitter he felt.
Why... Why am I the only one without soone who loves ...?
I want soone to cook for too...
"The boss has always been like this. You’ll get used to it."
Wu Yu casually grabbed an apple from his desk and handed it over.
"My girlfriend keeps nagging to eat one apple a day, but I don’t really like them. Here, you take it."
"..."
The man’s hands froze mid-motion. Slowly, he lowered them, staring blankly at the apple in front of him.
Wu Yu’s words echoed in his mind.
Damn it... You too? You won’t let off either?
—
By November, the weather was no longer hot. While it could still get warm at noon, mornings and evenings were noticeably cooler.
Inside the room, the fan wasn’t even necessary—just opening the windows made it comfortably cool.
Liu Changqing pulled up a chair and sat down, watching as An Yuanyao unpacked the lunchbox layer by layer, arranging the food neatly in front of him—rice, soup, and side dishes.
The al was well-balanced and nutritious.
Once everything was ready, An Yuanyao handed him the chopsticks and then folded her hands together, resting them on the table as she bead at him.
Her expectant gaze made Liu Changqing take a sip of the soup first. Then, with an exaggerated thumbs-up, he praised,
"My god, this soup is incredible! It’s so good I could cry!"
"Hehe, stop being so dramatic!"
Despite her words, she was clearly pleased.
What’s a chef’s greatest joy?
Probably hearing endless praise for their cooking and watching people eat every last bite.
An Yuanyao was no exception. She simply sat there, watching him eat with crescent-moon eyes, her face filled with happiness.
Just like the first ti she saw Liu Changqing eat—his bites were big but never ssy. He never smacked his lips or carelessly picked through the dishes with his chopsticks.
All he did was eat in a way that made the food seem irresistible.
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