The blind boss's nanny

After a long silence of several seconds, Lu Tingzhao heard his own emotionless voice, as if he were making an insignificant comment on the feedback from his taste buds:

It's burnt.

It completely failed to achieve the tone he had envisioned, one that carried no condemnation or pressure.

"Huh? Impossible! I was clearly watching the heat..."

Lin Xiaoman instinctively retorted, but then realized her mistake and quickly changed her words.

"Well, I'll be more careful next time!"

She seemed to hear a very soft hum in the air.

Lu Tingzhao turned around, took Yuanbao's hand, and walked into the house, leaving behind only one sentence:

"Lin Xiaoman, come here and serve me food yourself."

"Oh, okay!"

Lin Xiaoman quickly agreed.

Only after his figure disappeared from sight did she breathe a long sigh of relief and pat her chest.

Lu Tingzhao sat in the restaurant, his fingertips touching his lips. The cool touch of her fingers seemed to still linger there.

Yuanbao rubbed against his leg.

He reached out and stroked the dog's head. After a long while, he whispered in a voice only he could hear:

"...There's none for you."

The deliberate coldness in his voice was gone.

Only a slight sense of helplessness and a lingering sweetness remained.

In the days that followed, Lu Tingzhao no longer found time so difficult to pass.

On early winter mornings, Lin Xiaoman always likes to go to the kitchen to see what to eat that day. The scallop porridge is bubbling up fine bubbles in the clay pot, and the orange peel turns into golden snow under the grater.

She hummed an off-key song as she walked down the corridor; the sound of her wool socks crunching on the oak floor was like the first snow falling on pine branches...

Those trivial yet warm sounds that he thought he had lost forever have returned to his world.

Although, she still likes to intentionally or unintentionally replace coffee with milk.

In the study that morning, a spark crackled from the fireplace. Lin Xiaoman pushed open the door, bringing with her the crisp air and the sweet aroma of roasted chestnuts, insisting on adding an extra blanket for Lu Tingzhao.

In the background, amidst the mechanical female voice reading financial news, there's an occasional exclamation of realization: "So that's how stocks work..."

Those dry numbers suddenly came to life, like frost crystals illuminated by sunlight outside the window.

In the afternoon living room, the speed at which the sunlight moved across the carpet became measurable. She flipped through the pages of a book on the corner sofa, sometimes scratching her hair because of the boring English, and occasionally gasping for breath because of the suspenseful plot.

But as soon as Lu Tingzhao makes the slightest sound, she will immediately put down her book and run over... The wind rustling her clothes carries the scent of orange blossoms, and she softly asks him if he needs anything.

As dusk fell, the twilight bathed the windowpanes in a lavender gray hue. She pushed open the balcony door to collect the sheets, and the cool air, carrying the clean scent of laundry detergent, rushed in.

From afar came her laughter as she teased Yuanbao, which rang out crisply against the stone wall.

All of this weaves together the richest soundscape Lu Tingzhao has experienced since losing his sight.

Upon returning this time, Lin Xiaoman had figured out one of Lu Tingzhao's habits:

He would never touch fish with bones or shrimp and crab that require painstaking peeling, even if they were placed in the center of the table and looked delicious.

The reason is quite simple—it's too troublesome to eat, the posture is unseemly, and it requires the assistance of others.

During the two weeks she was away, Lu Tingzhao spent a period of time alone without anyone to take care of him.

Aunt Mei once privately remarked that during that period, the chairman's requirements for quality of life became much more "pragmatic," with ingredients that were easy to eat and required no effort to prepare becoming the first choice.

But Lin Xiaoman still clearly remembers Aunt Mei's words when she first arrived:

The chairman used to be a regular at Black Pearl and Michelin-starred restaurants. He could discern the difference in the cooking time of a fish or the age of a truffle. He had an extremely discerning palate.

The silence and compromise at the dinner table today are just another barrier erected after the loss of sight.

But Lin Xiaoman is no longer afraid of trouble. Her mindset has changed; she is no longer as lazy as before, and even sees this as an important manifestation of her "professional value."

During meals, she could sit quietly beside him, carefully removing the tender white meat from a whole Australian lobster and arranging it on a warm plate, mixing the dipping sauce perfectly.

To dissect the king crab, she specifically watched several professional videos repeatedly, striving to do it quickly and accurately, without wasting a single bit of its sweetness.

Lu Tingzhao always simply said "no need," but Lin Xiaoman could always find an irrefutable reason:

"Chairman, your current health condition requires the supplementation of high-quality protein, and fish and shrimp are the best sources."

Sometimes, when Lu Tingzhao's refusal was a little too forceful, she would lower her voice slightly, as if talking to herself:

"My existence is solely to ensure your quality of life and make you more comfortable..."

At the end of her sentence, her voice would become even softer, almost turning into a muffled murmur:

"...Otherwise, how could I justify the million-dollar annual salary I receive?"

What she didn't say was: she felt even more sorry for Lu Tingzhao's support for Sunshine Home over the years.

Both for her own sake and for public reasons, she now has to do her best to take good care of him.

Lu Tingzhao then fell silent.

He simply listened to the subtle sounds beside him and silently accepted everything she had handled.

Those exquisite pleasures that he once disdained to rely on others for but now had to give up are gradually returning to his quiet life through her fingertips.

Lu Tingzhao had to admit that, aside from the emotional connection, Lin Xiaoman's care for him was also very thoughtful.

It's almost to the point where she knows what he needs without him even saying a word.

Both body and mind achieve a very peaceful and comfortable feeling.

Several times during afternoon tea, Lin Xiaoman would place the tea and snacks next to Lu Tingzhao, her lips would move slightly as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she would just purse her lips and quietly leave.

That unspoken tension, like tiny specks of dust suspended in the air, disturbed the usual tranquility of the study.

That day, when the audio-recorded financial news ended, Lu Tingzhao turned off the device. Almost simultaneously, he heard Lin Xiaoman lightly stepping out, preparing to leave.

"These past few days,"

He suddenly spoke, his voice not loud, but it froze her footsteps in place.

Why do you always go to the bakery?

Lin Xiaoman turned around, her eyes wide, and subconsciously looked around, her face filled with disbelief and suspicion... Could it be that this man had installed a hidden camera on her?

"How did you know?"

She blurted it out, her voice full of surprise.

Lu Tingzhao leaned back in his wide chair, his eyelids slightly closed, as if he were resting, his tone flat and emotionless:

"Every time you come back from there, you smell of sweet butter and a bit of overcooked caramel."

He paused, then added an even more chilling deduction.

"Moreover, the stay was not short."

Lin Xiaoman was stunned. She subconsciously lowered her head and sniffed her sleeve, then a hint of embarrassment flashed across her face. She smiled sheepishly and confessed:

"The previous pastry chef isn't here anymore... I noticed that the variety of pastries at your afternoon tea has decreased, so I thought I'd try making tiramisu myself..."

His voice trailed off, revealing a hint of unease at his inferior skill level.