Taking Liu Yifei back to Northeast China for the Chinese New Year has sent the entire internet into

Fang Yu was uncharacteristically stumped.

Amazing, that's some serious acting skill.

His pronunciation was clear and resonant, and he exuded confidence.

If they were to close the door and engage in some role-playing activities in the future, wouldn't they be completely at each other's mercy?

Quickly clear those strange images from your mind.

He cleared his throat, rubbed the tip of his nose, clasped his hands in front of him, and adopted a posture of being ready to die.

"Alright."

"Your Majesty, please calm your anger."

"Your subject is willing to die."

As soon as he finished speaking, he decisively pulled out his chopsticks from the chopstick holder next to him, poked at the darkest and hardest "Cola Chicken Wing" in the plate on the left, and put it straight to his mouth.

Liu Yifei panicked.

"Hey, are you crazy? Don't actually eat it!"

Fang Yu refused to listen.

His front teeth struck the ground without hesitation.

click!

The sound was crisp and clear.

It was as if I had bitten into a pebble.

Fang Yu's face froze instantly.

The intense, tingling sensation shot straight to the forehead, traveling from the gums all the way back to the skull.

Liu Yifei also froze on the spot.

She glanced cautiously at the chicken wing—the spot where Fang Yu had risked his life to bite into hadn't even lost a piece of skin, leaving only a shallow, negligible tooth mark.

The kitchen was silent for a full three seconds.

Fang Yu slowly took the chicken wing away from his mouth and stared at the tooth mark.

"Your Majesty."

"This toxicity is even stronger than I anticipated."

He put the chicken wings back on the plate, clutched his chest, and leaned forward.

"I can't take it anymore."

"My blood and energy are surging all over my body, and I feel unbearably hot."

Startled by this, Liu Yifei retreated repeatedly until her lower back hit the edge of the counter, leaving her with nowhere to go.

Fang Yu pressed his advantage, closing the distance between them to less than an arm's length.

He winked and drew out the emphasis, his breath almost touching her ear.

"I really can't hold back anymore..."

Liu Yifei's big eyes widened in surprise.

His right hand silently reached out to the side—his target was the weathered biochemical spatula by the sink.

Fang Yu had sharp eyes and keenly caught her tactical movements.

He slapped himself on the chest, pulling back from the brink, forcibly suppressing his dangerous aura.

"I can't contain myself... I want to write eight songs for you overnight!"

Liu Yifei paused, her hand gripping the spatula handle, and stared at him for three seconds.

Finally, he silently released the ritual implement.

With a burst of laughter, she burst into uncontrollable ecstasy, her previous airs of a palace empress completely shattered.

"Neuropathy."

She pressed her palm against his chest.

I didn't use much force; I just touched it briefly and quickly pulled it back.

Fang Yu dropped his dissolute behavior.

My gaze swept over the battered countertop, then fell upon the still-smoking iron pot.

He resignedly rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie to his elbows.

"Alright."

"In the end, I was just born to be a hard worker."

The light-colored apron was hanging on the side of the refrigerator.

He casually pulled it up, slipped it around his neck, and tied a loose knot around his back.

Liu Yifei leaned against the kitchen counter, her hands resting on the table behind her, a smile still lingering on her face.

He muttered to himself.

"If all else fails... ordering takeout will do."

"What's the point of making do?"

Fang Yu yanked open the refrigerator door and bent down to rummage through it.

There were two stalks of celery, half a piece of pork tenderloin, and a few eggs lying in the bottom compartment.

Take out all the ingredients and arrange them neatly on the edge of the cutting board.

He turned and glanced at her.

"Let's go outside and watch some shows on the sofa."

"Dinner will be served in half an hour."

……

Half an hour later.

Stir-fried celery with shredded pork, stir-fried tomatoes with eggs, and a bowl of seaweed and egg drop soup.

Two dishes and a soup.

A combination that's as familiar as home cooking.

Going to Kaoshantun was a makeshift solution when Zhao Guifang didn't have time to cook.

In this high-end apartment in the East Fourth Ring Road, it has become the only thing that can keep the scene in check.

Fang Yu took off his apron and draped it over the back of the chair, then handed the chopsticks to Liu Yifei.

"Let's eat."

Liu Yifei picked up her chopsticks and went straight for the stir-fried celery and shredded pork.

I picked up a thin, translucent slice of pork tenderloin with my chopsticks, along with a piece of bright green celery, and put it in my mouth.

The celery stalks were crisp and fresh, and the shredded pork, coated with a thin layer of sauce, slid right into your mouth, with just the right amount of salty and savory flavor.

The frustration of a whole night of trying to cook was soothed by this warm, home-cooked meal.

The two sat facing each other.

The TV wasn't on, and no music was playing.

The only sounds in the room were the soft clinking of chopsticks against the rim of bowls and the occasional breath exhaled from the mouth while drinking soup.

It's as quiet as everyday life.

Liu Yifei ate more slowly than usual.

He stirred the rice grains in the bowl twice with his chopsticks, then put them down.

I took a tissue and wiped the corner of my mouth.

Across from him, Fang Yu was shoveling the last two mouthfuls of rice into his bowl, gathering the remaining grains into a small heap and sweeping them clean with a single chopstick.

He put down the bowl.

I looked up at her.

"What? Has my cooking skill deteriorated?"

Liu Yifei did not respond.

Pinch the corner of the tissue with two fingers, fold it once, unfold it, and fold it again.

Over and over again, as if trying to knead some words into that thin piece of paper.

My gaze was lowered, landing on the wood grain of the tabletop.

Fang Yu put down his chopsticks and leaned back in his chair.

I didn't urge them.

He understands Liu Yifei.

When this person has something to say, there is always a period of silence beforehand.

The more important the words, the longer the silence.

really.

"Fang Yu".

She spoke.

"Did you know—no one has ever swept all ten spots on the hottest songs chart?"

"In the decades-long history of the Chinese music scene, not a single person has achieved this."

Fang Yu hummed in response, without any expression.

Liu Yifei continued.

"If you do it, that will be history."

He paused for a moment.

"No... actually, you've already done it."

She looked up at him.

"It's just that other people don't know it."

Fang Yu tilted his head.

"oh."

He then picked up the bowl of seaweed soup in front of him, took a sip, put it down, and wiped the soup stains from the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

Whether others know or not is irrelevant.

He pushed the soup bowl aside, rested his arm on the table, and leaned forward slightly.

"It's enough that you keep this to yourself."

These words were spoken.

The tissue in Liu Yifei's hand was crumpled.

She lowered her eyes, stared at her knuckles for two seconds, and took a deep breath.

"Or... I could download the song—"

"Don't."

Fang Yu spoke much faster than she had expected.

With a single, decisive word, he completely shut down the rest of her sentence.

Liu Yifei looked up at him.

Fang Yu sat on one side of the chair, one arm draped over the back of the chair, a smile on his face.

"You stay up there."

He paused for a second.

"I like it when you're on top."

The words were spoken.

Liu Yifei's expression shifted from "serious and serious" to "processing information," and finally settled on "What did you say?"

He froze for a full three seconds.

"...Fang Yu."

"Um?"

"Can you be serious for once?"

Fang Yu spread his hands innocently.

I was talking about the rankings.

"You're second, I'm first, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth."

"You can stay up there."

"What's wrong? Is there a problem with any word?"

He had a frank expression and clear eyes.

Liu Yifei bit her lower lip, took a deep breath, and steered the conversation back on track.

I'm serious.

"Once this song is taken down, you'll be able to make it into the top ten."

"The number one figure in the Chinese music scene, what a huge title..."