With the address "Sonoko-neechan" (older sister Sonoko), Sonoko slowly woke up from her fantasy.

The sharp features of Makoto Kyogoku's face gradually blurred before his eyes, eventually transforming into the youthful face of Mitsuyuki.

"You scared me to death." Sonoko clutched her heaving chest, her slightly infatuated smile replaced by an embarrassed expression.

"Am I scary?" Guangyou asked, holding the dishes and looking at Yuanzi with a helpless expression.

He could tell that Sonoko was just imagining things, and that the content was definitely related to Makoto Kyogoku.

The reason was that Sonoko's cheeks and earlobes were slightly flushed, and more importantly, Kōsuke clearly heard her calling out Kyogoku Makoto's name.

Given his current state, it would be a miracle if Guangyou didn't know.

Seeing that Sonoko was still in a daze, Kōyū reminded her, "Sonoko-neechan, you can wash your hands and get ready to eat."

"Okay, sure."

After responding several times, Sonoko finally came to her senses. She washed her hands in the kitchen, then carried her bowl of scrambled eggs with tomatoes and followed Kōyū out of the kitchen.

At this moment, Conan was sitting in the living room flipping through a novel. Although his eyes were on the pages, it was hard to say whether his attention was actually on the book.

Anyway, all Kōyū knows is that Conan hasn't turned a page in a long time.

Due to time constraints, Guangyou didn't make any complicated dishes or a lot of food this time. He just made two simple home-style dishes, and the only other thing was the tomato and egg stir-fry from the garden.

Three dishes were prepared, and the rest was left to wait for Xiaolan to return with the side dishes she had bought.

The aroma of these dishes mingled together, filling the small room on the third floor. Conan, who was reading a book nearby, smelled the aroma and pretended to turn a page of his book.

Besides serving the dishes, Guangyou was also busy preparing enough bowls and chopsticks for everyone, and also serving rice and placing it in front of each person's seat.

After finishing all that, Guangyou finally had some free time, so he sat cross-legged on the mat and started watching TV.

A few minutes later, Sonoko suddenly asked, "Kuangyou, how did you develop your cooking skills? Is there a secret?"

She could clearly distinguish which of the three dishes on the table was superior. Whether it was their appearance or their aroma, anyone with eyes could tell that Guangyou's dish was obviously better.

What intrigued Sonoko was how Kōsuke possessed such culinary skills at such a young age.

She had eaten Guangyou's cooking before, and the taste was truly exceptional. To say it was the best in the world would be an exaggeration, but it was comparable to the chef her family had hired at great expense.

This is Sonoko's own opinion; as for what others say about Kousuke's cooking, she doesn't know.

Because each has its own unique characteristics, and she's not a professional food critic, she couldn't distinguish the specific differences; anyway, they were all delicious.

That's precisely why Sonoko was curious, even though she was just a child in elementary school.

If the chefs in the family knew about this, I doubt many people would believe it.

Looking at Kōyū, Sonoko's eyes gleamed with curiosity.

It's like asking a top student how they did so well; the answer is actually quite simple.

Looking back at the curious Sonoko, Kōyū carefully considered his words before saying, "There is a secret, it's just practicing calligraphy. I used to like to think about these things when I was alone, and you'll naturally get it over time."

He was telling the truth. When he was still working in that industry, he was extremely bored when he didn't have any tasks, so he would cook for himself.

Since I'm cooking for myself, I naturally wouldn't cook it with the intention of making it taste bad, and over time it just became like this.

But these words took on a different meaning for Sonoko. She knew very well what Kōyū's past identity was, so she considered another possibility:

The little boy works odd jobs as a kitchen helper to support himself, perhaps for his future. So after a long day of work, he practices his cooking skills alone in the kitchen.

I hope that one day I can earn money with this skill and change my life.

The moment the thought popped into her head, Sonoko imagined that small, lonely figure in the kitchen and the sounds of the cutting board and cleaver clattering together.

Thinking about all this, Sonoko's gaze towards Kōyū softened slightly.

What would this child be like if he hadn't met Xiaolan?

She couldn't imagine it, but she knew it definitely wouldn't be easy.

Noticing the change in his gaze, Kōyū was a little confused. He didn't know what was going on. He had simply explained a well-known truth, so why did it feel like Sonoko was making things up again?

Is Dihua (a type of Chinese clothing) popular now?

"I'm back."

At that moment, the door was pushed open, and Xiaolan's voice rang out from outside. Then she walked into the room carrying several bags.

As soon as Xiaolan entered the door, she smelled the aroma filling the air. Knowing what she was looking for, she put the groceries she had bought on the table and then focused her attention on the bowl of scrambled eggs with tomatoes. She praised, "Yuanzi, it seems you're quite good. You succeeded so quickly. Although I don't know how it tastes, it seems pretty good so far."

"Of course not." Sonoko grinned and laughed a few times. "What could possibly be difficult for me, Suzuki Sonoko?"

Xiaolan was all too familiar with her best friend's behavior. After laughing a few times, she said, "The dishes are all ready. Let's get ready to eat after everyone is here."

Sonoko was actually quite hungry. When she saw Ran come back, she thought it would be time to eat, but she still had to wait for someone. Judging from the current situation, the person she was waiting for was probably Uncle Mori.

"Why hasn't that uncle arrived yet?" Sonoko smacked her lips and complained, looking at the tempting aroma of the dishes in front of her. "I'm starving."

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