You got your marriage certificate and then abandoned me? I'll feed the richest woman in the wor

Su Qingqing pushed up her gold-rimmed glasses.

Looking at the chaebol leader in front of him, who was standing with his arms outstretched like a ruffled little beast.

She sighed helplessly and zipped up the first-aid kit.

She turned to look at the man standing by the kitchen counter, watching the show with an air of nonchalance.

"Mr. Chen, I can leave, but there's something I must remind you of as your private doctor."

Su Qingqing's tone returned to its professional seriousness.

"The young lady had been on intravenous nutrition for six months, and her stomach wall was as thin as paper."

"Although the mucous membrane has healed now, her recent calorie and food intake has far exceeded the normal standard."

"She is transitioning from anorexia to the precursors of compensatory bulimia."

Su Qingqing placed a printed diet chart next to the cutting board.

"If left unchecked, this retaliatory eating can trigger acute gastric dilatation and even perforation."

"Your cooking skills are good, but don't turn them into poison that will kill her."

Leave this warning.

Su Qingqing carried the first-aid kit and walked out of the kitchen in her high heels.

The frosted glass door closes on the sliding track.

The kitchen returned to its quiet state, with only the hum of the exhaust fan.

Chen Yuan's brows furrowed slightly.

That previously casual gaze turned somewhat cold and sharp.

He picked up the graph next to the cutting board.

The document clearly records Shen Wanzhou's weight and metabolic changes over the past two weeks.

Data doesn't lie.

He turned his head, his deep black eyes locking onto Shen Wanzhou's face.

Shen Wanzhou's fierce protectiveness of her food vanished when she heard the words "bulimia."

Like a balloon punctured by a needle, it leaked out completely in an instant.

She guiltily withdrew her outstretched arms.

Her hands were tucked together in front of her, and her toes were frantically digging into the soles of her rabbit slippers.

She dared not meet Chen Yuan's scrutinizing gaze.

"Did you sneak downstairs again after I fell asleep last night?"

Chen Yuan's voice was very low, carrying an imposing and authoritative aura.

Shen Wanzhou's shoulders jerked violently.

Like a primary school student caught cheating by the homeroom teacher.

She kept her head down, her chin almost touching the knitted cardigan on her chest.

"I...I'm just a little thirsty."

The voice was so soft it was like a mosquito's hum, lacking any confidence.

Chen Yuan remained silent.

I strode over to the huge double-door refrigerator.

Open the door to the refrigerator.

His gaze swept around inside.

"Does being thirsty mean I need to eat half a box of tiramisu, plus two pieces of fried pork that I used for preparing the dishes?"

He turned around, holding a half-empty food container in his hand.

Ironclad evidence.

Shen Wanzhou's cheeks flushed bright red instantly.

A blush spread all the way down to her slender neck.

She bit her lower lip, her fingers gripping the hem of her clothes tightly.

These past few days, she's been eating as much as Chen Yuan's cooking as she can, like a bottomless pit.

Especially at midnight.

As long as you can smell the lingering aroma in the kitchen downstairs.

Her stomach was churning with cravings, and she couldn't sleep without eating a couple of bites.

"Starting today, the kitchen will be locked after 10 p.m.

Chen Yuan threw the empty box into the sink, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"Your daily diet must strictly adhere to the standards for weight loss and stomach health."

Not a single extra bite.

Shen Wanzhou suddenly raised her head.

Those once bright and sparkling peach blossom eyes were instantly filled with resistance.

"But...but I'm hungry..."

She tried to plead in her usual soft, sweet voice.

But this time, Chen Yuan's heart, which always leaned towards her, was like reinforced concrete.

It was so hard that there wasn't a single gap left.

"You have to endure the hunger."

"If your stomach lining ruptures, even a god can't save you."

Chen Yuan took off his apron and hung it on a hook to the side.

This marked the beginning of this unilateral sanction.

Six o'clock in the evening.

The restaurant on the first floor of Genting Manor.

The afterglow of the setting sun shone through the French windows, casting long shadows on the carpet.

On a large solid wood dining table.

There was only a single white porcelain plate sitting there all alone.

Shen Wanzhou sat in the chair.

Looking at the so-called "dinner" in front of me.

I was completely dumbfounded.

There were only a few blanched broccoli florets on the plate.

Two thin slices of boiled chicken breast, with not a single drop of fat visible.

It was served with a small handful of quinoa that had no flavor at all.

This amount.

Not to mention the usually voracious female tycoon.

Even if you gave it to a cat, it probably wouldn't even fill the gap between its teeth.

She looked up in disbelief at Chen Yuan sitting opposite her.

There wasn't even a plate in front of Chen Yuan.

He leaned back in his chair, flipping through a financial magazine.

I didn't even spare a glance for that pitiful weight-loss meal.

"Eat up, and then take a 20-minute walk in the garden."

The man's voice was completely flat, as stern and impartial as a ruthless overseer.

Shen Wanzhou's hand, holding the mahogany chopsticks, hung suspended in mid-air.

It was slow to fall.

Her gaze swept over the few pale green broccoli florets.

My nose feels incredibly sore and dry.

A layer of mist quickly welled up in her eyes.

In the past, even if Chen Yuan made a bowl of noodles, he would always add two poached eggs and drizzle it with fragrant scallion oil.

Now they're just trying to fob her off with boiled tree leaves.

The emptiness in my stomach, from not having eaten enough, was mixed with a sudden feeling of grievance.

It was fermenting violently in her chest cavity.

She poked the table twice with her chopsticks.

The tears in the corners of her eyes seemed about to fall, revealing a kind of unreasonable and spoiled nature.

Shen Wanzhou looked at the meager amount of boiled broccoli in front of her, gripping her chopsticks with a wronged expression: "Chen Yuan, don't you love me anymore? You won't even let me eat my fill..."