Yaxi opened the door and found Chen Ling standing at the entrance, leaning on a cane.
In his hand was a portable hand warmer, his eyebrows curved into a gentle smile. "Dinner's ready. Use this to warm up first."
Instinctively, Yaxi handed him her backpack, slipping effortlessly into the role of the returning husband.
If Chen Ling had asked, "Shall we eat or shower first?" she might have actually untied her tie and carried her wife back to the bedroom for some fiery passion.
The traditional notion of a husband leading the household felt outdated and distasteful—yet there was something oddly charming about how naturally he played the part of a devoted spouse.
Yaxi voiced her thoughts aloud: "You look surprisingly alluring playing the housewife."
From the kitchen, Chen Ling responded in an exaggerated falsetto, "My lord works so hard outside; it is only fitting that this humble servant prepares dinner."
This made Yaxi burst out laughing.
Chen Ling emerged wearing an apron, completely devoid of embarrassment. Of course, he excelled at everything he did—even playful role-reversal came naturally to him.
He knew exactly when to stop teasing without crossing any boundaries.
Confident in his control over the situation, his temporary submission was merely strategic, never humiliating.
On the dining table lay three dishes and a hearty soup, all steaming hot.
Every dish catered to her tastes while being nutritious: braised chicken with mushrooms as the main course, accompanied by stir-fried lotus root, eggplant casserole, and fish-head tofu soup.
Even during the times when Yaxi's parents were still around, meals had never felt this warm and comforting.
The fish soup sat in a large ceramic bowl, its aroma wafting invitingly.
Yet Yaxi noticed no splashes along the edges of the bowl and couldn't help but ask, "This bowl must be heavy. Did you carry it with one hand?"
With effortless grace, Chen Ling placed a drumstick onto her plate. "It's just a bowl of soup. Is it really beyond me to carry it with one hand?"
...
Just a bowl? This wasn't a bowl—it was practically a basin! And Chen Ling wasn't particularly muscular either. Where did he get such strength?
Sensing her disbelief, Chen Ling teased her without missing a beat. "If you doubt my strength, feel free to test me anytime—using this frail frame of mine."
Irritated, Yaxi bit into the chicken leg. When it came to verbal sparring, she could never match Chen Ling.
But before she'd even finished chewing, another thought struck her. "Did you make all this because I mentioned having stomach pain after dinner last night?"
Chen Ling nodded. "I noticed fewer tampons in the bathroom cabinet and figured you must be dealing with menstrual cramps."
Yaxi blinked.
It wasn't like he was the one going through it—why did he have to pay such close attention?
Putting down her chopsticks, Yaxi rubbed her temples.
She suddenly remembered rushing out earlier that morning and forgetting to leave cash in the drawer.
Chen Ling had been living off whatever she provided, since he didn't even have his phone on him.
Normally, she let him take money from the drawer whenever needed.
Without funds, he wouldn't have been able to buy groceries. Someone must have given him money.
"Did you meet someone today?" Her eyes darted suspiciously. "An old acquaintance?"
Her animated curiosity sparkled brightly in front of him.
Setting down his bowl, Chen Ling chuckled softly, his tone laced with indulgence that Yaxi caught immediately. "No wonder you rely on sleeping pills every day. In less than three minutes, you've already asked three questions. Clearly, your mind never stops racing. Don't worry—it wasn't Xu Xiaoyi."
"Who said anything about Xu Xiaoyi? Stop underestimating my intelligence." Yaxi took a sip of the soup. "If you don't want to talk about it, don't bother trying to provoke me."
Chen Ling ladled more fish soup into her bowl. "You're sharp. Yes, I met someone from the past. Someone you've seen before."