Something seems to have gone out of control.

Jonah opened his empty palms and looked up blankly.

Jiang Songhe shifted her gaze from the tiger's mouth, which was red from being pricked by the spoon handle, frowned, pulled a napkin from the table, and like catching a chick, pinched Jonathan's reddened napkin with one hand through her gloved hand, and pressed the napkin to Jonathan's greasy mouth with the other: "Spit it out."

The gloves were still wet with water droplets. Jonathan puffed out his cheeks and shuddered. He opened his eyes wide in confusion, but obediently pushed his tongue out and did as he was told.

"Why don't you just ruin this hand too?" Jiang Songhe pressed her lips to the napkin like she was wrapping a wonton, hastily wiping away two tear stains with the extra clean spot, then flicked her wrist and threw the whole thing into the trash can at her feet. "You're really crazy."

Then he turned and stepped over to the stove, reaching for the corner of the countertop, and said coldly, "What are you trying to do now? Don't try any more tricks to make me..."

The voice saying "Hello" was drowned out by the intercom built into the island's communication screen.

Jonathan quickly rubbed his eye socket with the back of his hand and pressed the button to connect.

"Mr. Joe, Tang Dynasty has prepared mango pan-fried foie gras with sirloin steak for your lunch today. The Latah 91 you ordered a week ago arrived this morning. Would you like the butler to bring it up later?"

"We've arrived?!" Jonathan's voice was a little hoarse from wolfing down his food. He glanced at Jiang Songhe's back, then looked at his bandaged hand, cleared his throat, and changed his words, "No need for now, I... have a private chef today."

A private chef? Do you really think I'm your male servant?

Didn't he say he "doesn't smoke or drink"? He's definitely not telling the truth.

Jiang Songhe lowered his outstretched hand.

After hanging up the phone, Jonah had already resumed his arrogant, debt-ridden smile. The spoon was knocked away, so he picked up his chopsticks and tapped the bowl, urging Jiang Songhe's retreating figure, "What are you standing there for? Didn't you say you were going to 'feed me'?"

"Feed my ass." Jiang Songhe turned around and snatched the large bowl filled with a mess of pig feed from Jonathan, and said sarcastically, "Didn't anyone teach you not to tap your bowl with your chopsticks? Heh, right, you can vomit after eating a few bites of porcelain food. If you didn't know better, you'd think I put soy milk in your food."

"You should talk to this thing again, lest the people inside become too obedient and dispose of all that precious garbage..." Jiang Songhe was about to pour out the "pig feed" in the bowl.

"What's wrong with you?" Jonathan pressed down on Jiang Songhe's hand, which was trying to grab him, with his injured hand. "I don't understand."

"Don't you think it's fun to play me for fools? You lie to me! You manipulate me! You make me cook! Don't you understand? Ha, you understand all too well!" Jiang Songhe pushed away Jonathan's wrist and said angrily.

Jonah's misty eyes darted around amidst her rapidly fluttering eyelashes. After a moment's thought, she burst out laughing, selectively ignoring Jiang Songhe's sarcastic remarks, and said to herself, "I'm actually from Jingting too, so I don't vomit when I drink douzhi (fermented mung bean juice)."

Jiang Songhe was speechless and choked up: "...Huh?"

“You heard me right, I’m from Jingting.” Jonathan winked mysteriously. “Let me tell you a secret: the person in front of you is a perfect idol, over-packaged by the company. Underneath the skin of a prodigy, he’s actually a dirty John Doe (anonymous).

As a seasoned agent, Jiang Songhe knew perfectly well that these words, which contained a great deal of information, were tantamount to exposing his fatal weakness. He was completely stunned after hearing them.

Unexpectedly, Jonathan himself seemed unaware, his thin lips parted again, and he was about to say more.

"Stop talking, I'm not interested." Jiang Songhe intended to interrupt Jonathan's self-destructive act.

“I was born in a dilapidated tenement building in Jingting. My father was lazy and good-for-nothing, and my mother was ambitious and unrealistic, so they naturally couldn’t get along. When I was seven, my mother took me to eastern Guangdong. She met a man from country A at a nightclub, who became my stepfather. My stepfather coaxed my mother by saying that if she went to country A with him, she could become a singer. Ha, how naive she was…” Jonathan looked steadily at Jiang Songhe, then held his wrist and began to tell his story.

Jiang Songhe still wanted to stop him, but the hand on his wrist felt like it was gripping his throat, and he couldn't utter a single word for a long time.

"When my mother arrived in Country A, she didn't become a singer and became a full-time housewife. She probably couldn't understand why, even though her husband's race had changed, she still couldn't escape being exploited by men. They still argued frequently, sometimes to the point of complete breakdown. But my mother was too weak. Every time after an argument, she would cook a table full of traditional Chinese dishes and humbly beg for reconciliation."

“There’s no right or wrong, only who has no way out. My mother left her hometown with me, this burden, and became homeless, so she was the one who gave in unconditionally.” Jonathan spoke slowly, each word tinged with emotion, sounding poignant and viscous.

Jiang Songhe was slightly burned by the emotion hidden in Jonathan's smiling eyes. She unconsciously withdrew her hand, no longer wanting to interrupt, and listened in silence.

“I was not allowed to sit at the table to eat. I could only eat what my stepfather left over. I ate very slowly back then, and I would often be asked if I was ‘f*cking done yet’ before I was full. My stepfather was very irritable, and I was always both scared and hungry, so I would mix all the food together and eat it all in one go.”

“I’m terrified of them arguing, but I also look forward to it. That way, I can feel the warmth of home.” Jonathan tightened his grip on Jiang Songhe’s wrist, pulled her closer, and asked, “Isn’t that funny? Haha.”

That's ridiculous.

Jiang Songhe cursed under his breath, but the curses felt like rolling needles, cutting into his heart and causing a slight pain.

"So when I say the food is delicious, I'm not lying to you, I mean it sincerely." Jonathan's face was perfectly balanced between sincerity and flirtation. "Making your feelings a mess isn't playing with you either, I just want to eat it all up, leaving nothing behind."

"...Shall I try it?" Jiang Songhe hesitated for a moment, then turned around and picked up another spoon with her other hand, scooped up a spoonful of the mixture and put it in her mouth.

After all that, the hodgepodge was completely cold. The cold oil mixed with the strange and incongruous taste of the dishes made Jiang Songhe choke and gag. He clenched his fist to cover his mouth and swallowed it down in several bites.

"Cough, never mind it. There's still some rice left. I'll make you some fish and rice porridge." Jiang Songhe dropped the spoon and surrendered.

"No need, I really like eating it this way." Jonathan pretended to pick it up again.

Jiang Songhe ignored him and still poured out the leftovers in his bowl, which were comparable to biological weapons. He blurted out, "Be good."

……obedient?

The two words together form a simple and easy-to-understand phrase, but when they entered Jonathan's ears, they sent a shiver down his spine like an electric current.

The instructions behind "obedience" were something Jonah had heard from his stepfather and Tang Fan, but hearing them from Jiang Songhe's mouth gave him a meaning he had never experienced before.

Jiang Songhe deftly lifted the pot to boil water, but as he turned his back to scoop rice, his hand suddenly stopped moving.

“Song Yunta, born in the Year of the Rat.” Jiang Songhe placed a ball of rice in his palm, rubbed it together with his hands, and said, “He was always sick when he was little, which was also my fault for not taking good care of him… He tends to be sulky when he is sick, which is quite similar to you two, haha.”

The rice was quickly formed into an irregular little ball. Jiang Songhe cut a section of celery in half, then cut it into two semicircles and inserted them symmetrically into the narrow end of the rice ball. He then poured out two black peppercorns from the seasoning jar and pressed them into the empty spaces under the celery.

"To coax him to eat, I... here, take this and play with it." Jiang Songhe placed the rice ball in Jonathan's hand and turned his back. The water boiled, and he scooped the remaining rice into the pot and stirred it back and forth.

Wow, it's a little mouse, so cute!

The aroma of rice mingled with the steam, rising between the two of them.

Jonathan carefully held the rice ball and examined it closely. In his hazy state, he recalled the dream he often had, in which the little mouse was cold, while this one was warm.

Where is that person?

What's different?

Will they be the same?

...

"Just ten more minutes... and it'll be done." Jiang Songhe felt something crawl under his arm. He looked down and saw a bright white forearm stretched out in front of him, holding the rice ball mouse up and down and measuring it.

What's up?

Jonathan then squeezed in from under his arm, into the cramped space between him and the stove, and began to measure his shiny white forearm back and forth.

Jiang Songhe smelled a perfume scent wafting from the back of Jonathan's bathrobe collar—citrus, ocean, jasmine? Or rose? The rice scent was also strong. He unconsciously moved closer and saw a familiar silver glint on the back of his straight neck.

The snake bone necklace has a slightly deformed clasp with an irregular curve, clearly indicating that someone attempted to repair it but failed. There is a small "J" on the stamp.

J, Jiang... Damn it, what are you thinking about?

They twisted a perfectly good high-end item into a mess, and even fantasized that the "J" was a mark to "engrave their name and claim it as their own."

Jiang Songhe blushed.

"Are you looking at my necklace?" Jonathan had turned his face around at some point, his gaze sweeping from Jiang Songhe's chin upwards. "Do you remember it?"

Jiang Songhe thought Jonathan was referring to the time he was tied up with Prey at the Weiting Hotel that night, and his old face darkened again. Jonathan simply turned around from the jostling and asked again, fluttering his eyelashes, "Do you remember?"

Her captivating eyes shone with a light unlike any she had before. How to describe it? Childlike innocence? Innocence? Hmm, hard to say, but it was definitely alluring.

Jiang Songhe sensed something was wrong, but her hands and feet wouldn't obey her commands. She let Jonathan hook his apron collar, bring them close, sniff each other, and tease, "Tell me~"

“…Take the beating and stand at attention, I’ll make it up to you,” Jiang Songhe said, sticking out his neck.

A flicker of disappointment seemed to cross Jonah's face, the unusual light in it dimmed, and then quickly returned, mixed with disdain and mockery: "Compensation? I told you, I've worn this necklace for many years, it's not the same as this bathrobe... Well then, I'll raise the stakes."

Jiang Songhe: "..."

"I'm going to kiss you now." Jonathan turned his head, staring at Jiang Songhe's lips as he slowly moved closer. "Don't you want to try? A kiss won't break your vow, right?"

Jonah stopped at a very short distance, seemingly handing the decision over to Jiang Songhe, but using his eyes and breath to lure her, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Jiang Songhe remained motionless, but did not refuse; only the rhythm of her chest movements changed imperceptibly.

The stalemate had lasted too long, and Jonathan looked somewhat embarrassed. He dejectedly lowered his injured hand, shifted his position, and was about to give up when his ear brushed against Jiang Songhe's chest and heard a strong and pleasant sound.

"Your heart is beating so fast." Jonathan leaned closer to her, holding the mouse's wrist and hooking his arm around her shoulder. He pressed his other hand against Jiang Songhe's chest and asked himself abruptly through his tightly closed lips, "Am I about to win?"

Just before the kiss was about to begin, Jiang Songhe turned her face away and called a halt: "The porridge is ready."

...

Jonathan sat back on the high stool and stopped forcing Jiang Songhe to feed him. Instead, he mechanically finished the fish and rice porridge in the bowl himself. The rice didn't smell good anymore, and the mouse didn't seem cute either.

Even after Jiang Songhe changed his dressing and bandages, washed the dishes, and was about to leave, Jonathan remained sitting there without saying a word.

Jiang Songhe took the trash to the door but stopped there. She turned around and said, "Um, you... start getting up a little earlier tomorrow, and make sure the doors and windows are closed and you go to bed early at night."

Upon hearing this, Jonah's eyes instantly brightened, and she looked over with delight, asking, "Are you going to make up for today's portion? Actually, I wasn't very hungry today... I'll eat properly tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow you can sit down and eat with me, okay?"

"I'm afraid that won't work." Jiang Songhe looked troubled. "I need to wait for Songyun's message and go to your company to deliver food to him."

“Jerk… (bastard…)” Jonathan lowered his head and cursed in a wry voice with a bitter smile.

Jiang Songhe didn't hear it. He stood at the door for a while and saw that Jonathan didn't seem to want to talk back. He figured that the novelty she had shown was probably worn off by his relentless efforts, so he decided not to make a fool of himself and quietly pushed the door open and went back to room B.

...

"vomit--"

Jonathan ran to the bathroom, knelt down next to the toilet, violently tore off the bandages, and used his injured hand to force himself to vomit up all the porridge.

Once wasn't enough; he kept doing it again and again, until his saliva tasted bitter before he stopped.

He staggered to the sink, splashing the saline solution off his face. Facing his reflection in the mirror, he gasped for breath, his fingertips trembling violently from the pain as he braced himself on the sink.

"Something seems to have gotten out of control."