Ji Anning was puzzled, "Uncle, why have you brought to a restaurant?"
Weren’t they supposed to be looking for food? Could it be that he wasn’t taking her out to eat?
Without a word, Ji Chicheng walked to the dining table, pulled out a chair, and pressed Ji Anning down into the seat.
"Sit."
After calling out to Ji Anning, he turned and entered the kitchen.
Ji Anning, curious, stood up and followed. She saw Ji Chicheng take an apron from behind the door, skillfully put it on, and then open the refrigerator to rummage through it.
He found so vegetables and ingredients.
So he was going to cook for her. Ji Anning’s lips curved into a smile, and a touch of sweetness rose in her heart.
If he wanted her to sit, then she would wait there.
Ji Anning returned to her seat. From the kitchen ca the crackling sound of stir-frying several tis, yet Ji Chicheng did not co out.
Just the two of them eating, how many dishes had he made?
She stretched her neck, peeking into the dining room. The door was ajar; she couldn’t see the man at all.
After waiting a bit more, her patience wearing thin, she was about to get up and look in the kitchen when the kitchen door opened, and Ji Chicheng erged with two plates in his hands.
With an apron around him, he looked every bit the image of a good dostic man.
"What delicious food did you make?" Ji Anning couldn’t wait, getting up to et him. She glanced at the plates and exclaid, "Spaghetti."
What surprised her was not that Ji Chicheng could make spaghetti but that he had made it look so beautiful, adorned with many small garnishes, that she held it in her hands and hardly had the heart to eat it.
Ji Chicheng walked to the dining table, set down the pasta, and, ignoring Ji Anning who was following him, turned back into the kitchen.
Ji Anning followed him to the kitchen door, waiting as he ca out with two more plates, one of crispy shrimp and the other with two servings of borscht.
The presentation was on par with high-end Western restaurants. She looked at the man known for his perpetually cold expression in disbelief, "Uncle, did you make all this?"
Ji Chicheng raised an eyebrow at her, "Was it you who made them?"
"They look really tasty." Ji Anning rubbed her hands, admiringly looking at Ji Chicheng, "Uncle, you’re so amazing; you really know how to cook."
Ji Chicheng halted his steps, looking at Ji Anning with an impassive, sympathetic face, "Actually, I’m even better at making... love."
Ji Anning: "..."
It must be an illusion. The uncle who just dropped a dirty joke couldn’t be the real one.
Not the one she knew, who wouldn’t even bother to pick up a fallen oil bottle, so aloof and detached from worldly concerns.
"Aren’t you coming over to eat?"
Ji Anning was still in a daze when Ji Chicheng had walked over to the dining table, placed down the plates, urged her to join him again, and then took off his apron to sit down.
"Oh."
Ji Anning ca to her senses, pouted, and, while Ji Chicheng was turned away and not looking at her, contemptuously stuck her tongue out at the back of his head.
Then she got up and skipped over to sit beside him.
"Uncle..." Ji Chicheng opened his mouth, but before the word "uncle" could co out, he suddenly picked up a shrimp and brought it to her lips. Instinctively, she bit down.
Happiness had co so swiftly that she began to feel a bit ethereal.
It was at this mont that suddenly, soone arrived.
"Yo, what are uncle and my sister-in-law doing?"
The voice was mocking, and on the petite, delicate face was a smile as sardonically amused as her tone.
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