Unpalatable yet delicious porridge

The warm afternoon sun shone through the gauze curtains, but it couldn't dispel the chills and weakness that washed over Shen Yu. He curled up on the living room sofa, covered with a soft, thin blanket. His cheeks were flushed abnormally, and his breathing was heavier than usual. His eyes, which were always clear and smiling, were now somewhat dazed, squinting wetly.

The apartment was unusually quiet, with only the sound of his slightly heavy breathing. Normally, by this time of day, he would have been in the kitchen preparing the ingredients for dinner, the aroma of food slowly filling the air. But today, he didn't even have the strength to lift a finger.

There was a slight sound of the door opening at the entrance, followed by the familiar rhythm of high heels stepping on the floor, but it seemed more urgent than usual. Lin Qingyue came back. She almost walked straight to the sofa, took off her coat with the cool outdoor air and put it aside, leaned over, and put the back of her slightly cool hand on Shen Yu's forehead.

Her brows immediately furrowed, and her voice sounded lower than usual, with a barely perceptible tension. "Have you taken your medicine?"

Shen Yu reluctantly opened his eyes and saw her figure against the light. Her outline was a little blurry, but her expression of concern was clearly visible. He nodded gently, his voice hoarse: "I've eaten... I just had a good sleep, and I feel much better." He was always like this, not wanting to make her worry too much.

Lin Qingyue said nothing, but touched his cheek and neck again. The scorching heat made her frown deepen. She stood up straight, looked around the somewhat deserted living room and the kitchen, which was obviously untouched, and made a decision.

"Lie down and don't move." She ordered, her tone was her usual unquestionable one, but her back as she turned and walked towards the kitchen revealed a rare determination, similar to that of someone who had accepted a task in an emergency.

Shen Yu watched her drowsily as she disappeared behind the tall refrigerator door, a faint sense of unease rising in his heart. He had never seen Lin Qingyue cook. In his perception, Lin Qingyue's fingers were used to sign contracts worth tens of millions of yuan and manipulate the capital market, not to be stained by oil smoke and firewood. Their three meals had always been his willing and happy responsibility, and she only needed to enjoy and comment.

Noises began to come from the kitchen.

It wasn't the smooth, rhythmic sounds of chopping, washing, and cooking he was familiar with, but rather a hesitant and clumsy clatter. A porcelain bowl tapped against the countertop, a drawer opened and then unsurely pushed shut, and... what seemed to be the rustling of rice bags being dragged out?

Shen Yu tried to sit up a little, but was knocked down by a dizziness. He had to continue lying down, but his ears couldn't help but catch all the movements in the kitchen.

After a while, the sound of running water was heard, followed by the click of a gas stove being turned on.

As time ticked by, the sounds in the kitchen grew increasingly frantic. He heard the lid of a pot being opened and closed again, at a rather high frequency. He even faintly heard a low, suppressed cry of surprise, followed by the sound of water being turned up.

Shen Yu's uneasiness gradually grew. He really couldn't imagine Lin Qingyue frantically busy in the kitchen. The scene was too inconsistent, even a little... funny. But he felt more distressed. She was a person who was used to having everything under control, but now she was busy with something she was not good at.

After what seemed like a century, the noise in the kitchen gradually subsided.

Lin Qingyue came out carrying a bowl. Her expression was as calm as ever, if one ignored the stray strand of hair on her cheek and the suspicious water stains on her apron.

She walked over to the sofa and placed the bowl on the coffee table. In the bowl was what was called porridge, or rather, a rice product somewhere between dry rice and gruel. Its color was somewhat dull, and even a few grains of partially cooked rice could be seen around the edges.

"Drink it." Lin Qingyue's tone was very calm, as if she was serving a masterpiece of a Michelin three-star chef. "When you are sick, it is good to drink some porridge."

Shen Yu looked at her, and then at the bowl of porridge that looked really bad. He saw that her originally meticulous shirt sleeves were slightly rolled up, revealing her fair wrists, and her fingertips seemed to be a little red. He suddenly felt a little sour in his nose, not because of illness, but because of a surging emotion.

He struggled to sit up completely, and Lin Qingyue took a cushion to support him.

He picked up the bowl of porridge at the right temperature, picked up the spoon, scooped up a spoonful, and put it into his mouth without hesitation.

The taste is very complicated. Some of the rice grains are undercooked and some are over-rotten. It seems that nothing but water is added, but there is a faint smell of burnt bottom of the pot. The taste is a disaster.

Lin Qingyue looked at him. Although her face was expressionless, the subtle nervousness in her eyes was undeniable. This was the first time in her life that she had cooked for someone else, and the difficulty was far greater than any other business she had ever handled.

Shen Yu chewed twice, then raised his head and gave her a weak, but very real and brilliant smile. His eyes were moist because of the fever, but at this moment they were surprisingly bright.

"It's delicious." He said, his voice hoarse but very gentle, "Thank you, sister."

Lin Qingyue was slightly startled, and seemed to be unconvinced. She hesitated for a moment, picked up the spoon that Shen Yu had just used, and tasted it herself.

Her expression froze instantly. The taste was even worse than she had imagined. She immediately put down her spoon, frowning, and took out her phone. "Don't eat anymore. I'm ordering takeout. The herbal porridge at that vegetarian porridge shop in the west of the city is great."

She acted quickly and successfully placed the order.

However, when she put down her phone, she saw that Shen Yu had not stopped. He was still eating the bowl of greasy porridge in small bites, very seriously and even cherishingly. His movements were very slow, because he was sick, and because the porridge was really hard to swallow, but he did not pause or disdain at all.

"Xiaoyu," Lin Qingyue's voice carried a hint of helplessness and restraint that she herself didn't even notice, "Don't eat anymore, the takeaway will be here soon."

Shen Yu shook her head, sent another spoonful in, and looked at her after swallowing it, her eyes curved, with a smile and incomparable seriousness: "But, this is the first time my sister has cooked for me."

With just this one sentence, all of Lin Qingyue's words of dissuasion were stuck in her throat.

She looked at his flushed face, at the way he struggled to swallow the bowl of disgusting porridge, at the pure joy and satisfaction in his eyes without a trace of impurities, and the hardest corner of her heart seemed to be completely melted by the warmth of the bowl of messy porridge.

She no longer tried to stop him, but just sat beside him silently, watching him finish the bowl of porridge that represented her clumsiness, her attempts, and her concern, mouthful by mouthful.

When the takeaway arrived, the bowl of disgusting porridge was almost gone.

Lin Qingyue opened the exquisite takeaway porridge box that exuded the true fragrance of medicinal food and pushed it in front of Shen Yu.

Shen Yu looked at the delicious takeaway porridge, then looked at Lin Qingyue who seemed to sigh slightly beside him, and suddenly laughed softly. Although the laughter was a little weak because of illness, it was full of real joy. He stretched out his hand and gently pushed the takeaway porridge away.

"I can't eat anymore," he leaned back on the cushion, sighed contentedly, and looked at Lin Qingyue with dependence. "The porridge made by my sister is a little special... but I feel much better after eating it."

Lin Qingyue looked at his childish actions and words, then looked at the empty bowl. Finally, a very faint and gentle smile, which showed that she could do nothing about him, quietly appeared on the corner of her usually cold mouth.

She raised her hand and felt the temperature of his forehead again, as if the bowl of porridge that condensed all her clumsy thoughts was really a panacea.