That feeling could be called touching, or it could be called a sense of security. Anyway, it made Wang Siyi feel at ease.

Li Changle smiled slightly, then said to Wang Siyi with a slightly serious expression: "Because when I drank this bowl of chicken soup just now, I also tasted the taste you described."

Wang Siyi looked at Li Changle with a half-skeptical attitude and confusion in her eyes. She knew her cooking skills very well. She could only make chicken soup which tasted okay. The food on the other tables were all taken-out.

But even the taste of the chicken soup was still far behind that of Li Changle's. Thinking of this, Wang Siyi rolled her eyes at Li Changle and said nothing. Instead, she lowered her head and carefully tasted the chicken soup she had cooked, as if to verify whether this was true.

In the end, based on her countless experiences of drinking soup, Wang Siyi concluded that the chicken soup she made tasted okay, but it was definitely not as good as the one made by Li Changle.

Seeing Wang Siyi adorably wrinkling her nose as she savored the chicken soup she cooked, Li Changle found it a little amusing: "This has little to do with the chicken soup itself, but rather the person who made it."

"This chicken soup is made with love, so you can't taste it yourself, but those who drink it can feel it. It's like after drinking it even when you're exhausted, you still feel that the world is still so beautiful and life is still full of hope."

Wang Siyi began to agree with Li Changle's words in her heart. The feeling of sorrow and despair she had at the time was indeed very tiring. If she had not met Li Changle, she would probably no longer be in the entertainment industry.

"So, you have liked me for a long time, right?" Wang Siyi tilted her head and asked Li Changle cutely.