Chapter 5 The Domineering CEO

The porridge was cooked more than ten minutes later.

Then Qingran went to the vegetable garden and picked some cucumbers and peppers to make side dishes. She smashed the cucumbers and made a cold salad, and chopped the peppers and stir-fried them with eggs.

These two very simple and home-style dishes have an incredibly fragrant and delicious aroma.

Qingran didn't have such good skills at first; at most, she could cook the food properly. But she had a system that could accurately control the portion sizes and guide her from the side.

What if the host dislikes the food and has a loss of appetite? Of course, the answer is to use the world's most comprehensive cookbook to teach them step-by-step!

Even so, Qingran doesn't eat it at every meal.

Enjoying food doesn't mean enjoying making food, especially since he has the right to be capricious.

System: ...pretending not to notice the host's unusual side.

"Alright, dinner's ready," Qingran said, scooping the stir-fried green peppers and eggs into a plate.

The food should be taken to the main room.

Yan Chen, who couldn't help with cooking at all, took over this physical task.

Under the dim light of the old-fashioned light bulbs overhead, the two dined quietly in the main room.

Qingran didn't eat much. After filling her stomach a little, she propped her chin up and watched the man eat, saying, "There's hot water boiling in the kitchen. We can take a hot bath later. It's cold in the mountains, so don't use cold water."

Then, remembering something, she said, "I bought you toiletries, but I haven't bought you a change of clothes yet, I can't carry all of them."

Yan Chen nodded: "It's alright, I just put this on this evening, so it's fine not to change."

Qingran then focused her gaze on the man's clothes.

It was an extremely ordinary white sleeveless vest, which would have looked loose on anyone with a slender build, but it fit perfectly on a man.

What does "just right" mean?

The close-fitting fabric outlined his broad chest and firm waist and abdomen. His exposed skin was fair, but his arms and arms revealed smooth muscle lines and prominent veins as he moved.

The gaze is so intense it feels almost tangible, making one restless and agitated.

Yan Chen: "Why aren't you eating?"

His gaze shifted upwards; the man's dark eyes were deep and calm, and he didn't look at him.

Qingran smiled lazily: "I'm full." He never had much of an appetite whenever he cooked.

The man stopped talking and quickened his pace of eating, finishing off the remaining food in a short while.

Qingran got up and cleared away the dishes.

The man tried to help, but he avoided him, saying, "No need for that. I'm used to doing these things. You're not used to it, so don't force yourself."

Yan Chen couldn't refute this.

He was indeed unfamiliar with every kitchen utensil, not just the kitchen itself, but everything in the place was completely foreign to him.

As a result, he often felt lost and helpless.

The deep mountains, far from the city's neon lights, are so peaceful and serene at night.

The sound of running water came from the kitchen; Qingran was preparing to wash the dishes while Yan Chen was preparing bathwater.

Speaking of bathing, there's something I have to mention.

The original family did not build a dedicated bathroom.

In the past, the original owner and his adoptive father would take baths in the kitchen with hot water in winter, and in summer they would find a spot outside to stand and wash. The water would then flow into the vegetable garden next door.

After Qingran transmigrated, she did not change the original father and son's habits; they still washed outdoors in the open air every day.

Shame? It doesn't exist.

But this was obviously difficult for Yan Chen to accept.

Even if he loses his memory and remembers nothing, the upbringing and habits cultivated by his more than 20 years of privileged life are still ingrained in his bones.

"I'm sorry, this is all the resources my family can afford," Qingran said apologetically, her guilt in her eyes genuine, as was the composure in her expression.

Guilt is directed at Yan Chen, while honesty is directed at oneself.

Qingran: "How about I let you take a bath in the kitchen first?"

Yan Chen: "...It's okay."

He turned around, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and mentally prepared himself before leaving with the water.

As soon as the man's figure disappeared outside the door, Qingran, who had been feeling guilty and uneasy just a second ago, immediately chuckled, her eyes and brows full of pure joy.

"With such a strong sense of shame, it must be hard for you to be outdoors, right?" he suddenly said.

The system looked bewildered: [Huh?]

Qingran still smiled: [It's nothing, I just feel sorry for the male lead, a once-proud prince, who has fallen to the mortal realm.]

The system was skeptical; was it actually feeling sorry for them...?

[Zero, 3-minute detention.]

Okay~

The system, instantly understanding the deeper meaning, decisively locked itself in solitary confinement.

Three minutes later, I came out and, sure enough, the dishes and chopsticks were washed clean and the kitchen was tidied up.

It praises even with its eyes closed.

The host is truly hardworking and quick-witted; he would definitely be an excellent writer of historical fiction!

Qingran, who had been showered with compliments, strolled outside and looked up at the deep night.

Accompanied by the faint sound of water, he thought quietly:

What exactly is this so-called opportunity?

Unlike men who specifically choose a secluded spot at the back of the house to take a bath, Qingran was very casual when it was his turn.

I washed it right in front of the house.

If Yan Chen were to open the window and look out during this time, he would be able to see the beautiful woman emerging from her bath without any obstruction.

However, the bedroom window was never opened.

After washing up, I went inside.

"Do you have any floral water?" the man asked, turning around.

Qingran tilted her head in confusion: "Hmm?"

Yan Chen: "...There are mosquitoes."

Qingran then noticed the red marks from mosquito bites on his exposed arms, shoulders, and neck.

She couldn't help but laugh as she rummaged through the bedside table and pulled out a bottle of floral water that she hadn't used in a long time.

"I'll apply it for you, and I'll also spray some medicine on your bruises."

Upon hearing the second half of the sentence, Yan Chen withdrew his hand: "Just spray the back, I'll take care of the rest myself."

He took off his shirt, turned his back to Qingran, and said, "You don't seem to attract mosquitoes."

"Hmm, if you don't want to get bitten by mosquitoes, you can move closer to me."

Yan Chen didn't take it to heart.

The man's back muscles are not overly bulging; the full, firm lines exude masculine charm, like a work of art drawn with a pencil brush.

The old-fashioned tungsten filament light gently diffused, giving cool skin a warm glow.

Qingran placed her hand on the man's back. The fine lines of her palm blended closely with the contours of his muscles, smooth and supple, at a temperature completely different from that of a cold snake.

It's very warm.

"...What?" the man asked in a deep voice, pausing slightly.

He withdrew his hand, his fingertips brushing against her burning skin like feathers.

Qingran: "It's nothing."

I didn't see any mosquito bites on my back, only a bruise on my shoulder blade.

He replaced the floral water with a medicinal spray, and kissed it before applying the medicine.

Yan Chen, who had his back to him, tensed up instantly.

Yan Chen couldn't see what Qing Ran had just done, but he felt his entire back suddenly become very sensitive.

The traces of fingertips tracing his skin, the warmth of his breath as he drew near, and the gentle touch on his shoulders and neck... everything sent shivers down his spine.

He held his breath, wary of the other person's next move, but Qingran quickly handed him the sprayed medicine.

"Okay, all sprayed." I relaxed and sat down on the bedside.

Looking down at the medicine bottle in his hand, Yan Chen slowly exhaled the breath he had been holding in his chest.

This time he quickly finished spraying the medicine and floral water.

After tidying up the things I had used, I turned to look at the bedside.

Qingran rested her hands on her sides, watching him with a relaxed air.

He dressed much more lightly after taking a shower, wearing a light blue solid-color t-shirt on top and shorts that were short enough to reach his thighs.

The legs exposed under the light were long, white and smooth, and the feet were as delicate as jade carvings. They were casually placed on a brown bamboo mat.

For a moment, Yan Chen even hallucinated that a green snake was coiled on the bed, flicking its tongue.

"..." He cleared the inexplicable images from his mind: "It's time to rest."

Qingran scooted closer and patted her side: "Come on."

Seeing that the man's eyes were dark and he didn't move, she tilted her head and raised her eyebrows slightly: "Is Ah Chen waiting for me to leave?"

“That’s really heartbreaking,” he chuckled, his smile alluring and cunning. “But no, the bedroom next door is sealed off, so you can only sleep with me.”

After turning off the lights, the two lay flat on the bed.

After teasing Yan Chen, Qingran became quiet as soon as the lamp was turned off, showing none of the arrogance he displayed before bedtime.

Yan Chen recalled the events of the past half-day, and after a long while, asked, "Qingran, how did we meet?"

There was no response for a long time.

The man gave a helpless twitch of his lips and closed his eyes.

The two fell asleep peacefully.

Meanwhile, at Beijing Airport, a plane bound for Xia Province had just taken off from the runway.

...

In the mountains, it gets light early, and you can hear birds chirping, flapping their wings, and searching for food early in the morning.

The sound came through the wall into the small bedroom, where two men were fast asleep on the bed.

Suddenly, the man with the more mature facial features opened his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering. His dark, vacant eyes quickly regained their calm.

Turn your head to look.

The person who slept so properly last night was now sound asleep, leaning against his shoulder. His face was porcelain white, and his sleeping expression was unusually adorable.

It's as if a flamboyant and passionate flower has closed its stamen, revealing its soft and harmless side.

Yan Chen tiptoed out of the room.

The view is of lush green trees, bathed in the first rays of dawn.

Qingran listened for a while in the bedroom, and saw the man go out to wash up first, and then clumsily start washing the clothes he had changed out of last night, closing his eyes without interest.

This short rest lasted for nearly an hour.

Qingran was awakened by the aroma of food that filled her nostrils, and sat up, still wrapped in a thin blanket.

Upon receiving the wake-up signal, the system cheerfully replied: [Good morning, host~]

[Good morning. ]

Then the system asked him curiously, "[Why didn't you answer the male lead's question last night, host?]"

Could it be that the plot hasn't been written yet?

It has novel templates that you can use as inspiration!

"I'm too sleepy," Qingran said lazily.

After folding the blankets and getting out of bed, I was quite surprised to find the man next door cooking.

He knew that even the wealthiest young men in his world, no matter how down on their luck, would never do it themselves.

When you are rich, you have servants; when you are poor, you have a wife and mother.

Stepping outside in slippers, I saw several washed clothes hanging on the clothesline in the open space outside, their heavy weight causing the line to sag slightly.

Turn left, and you'll hear faint sounds coming from the kitchen.

He greeted everyone as he entered the house: "Good morning, Ah Chen~"

"morning."

The man's answer was brief and indifferent. Qingran scooped water to wash herself and then went to the stove.

Two bowls of prepared breakfast were placed on the gray cement countertop: round, blue-and-white porcelain bowls filled with off-white noodles.

The man bent over, chopping bright green scallions; the more aloof his demeanor, the more meticulous his hand movements.

The contrasting scene made Qingran step forward and wrap her arms around the strong waist in front of her, drawing out her words: "Achen is so virtuous."

Recalling the scene she saw when she went out, she said with a smile, "You even did my laundry?"

Looking down at his waist, Yan Chen said, "...Yeah, just doing it." He sprinkled the chopped scallions into the noodle bowl.

"Really? Then how come there's still one left?"

I've washed all the outer clothes, but I can't find the inner garment.

He rested his chin on the man's shoulder: "If Ah Chen helps me wash, I don't mind, or is it Ah Chen who minds?"

Yan Chen didn't know how to answer.

Washing clothes was out of gratitude for being rescued and taken in, as was cooking, but the other party seemed to have misunderstood...

He remained silent for a long time, as if he had tacitly agreed with Qingran's words.

"I was just kidding. It's okay, I can wash it myself."

As soon as he finished speaking, the hand around his waist loosened.

The man looked up and turned around.

He has a face with sharply defined features, like those sculpted by a knife and axe. His brow bone and nose bridge are high, his eyebrows are low, and the shape of his eyebrows is clean and neat. He is a typical example of eyebrows pressing down on eyes.

Therefore, whenever his face does not show obvious expression, even though his dark eyes usually appear calm, he still appears cold and extremely aggressive.

Like a tree covered in ice crystals in the wind and snow, it remains calm, undisturbed, and indifferent.

Qingran didn't look at him. Her long eyelashes lowered as she glanced at the noodles she had just finished, and she asked him, "You know how to use a traditional earthen stove now?"

"...I saw you use it last night and learned how to use it."

Qingran nodded confidently, appearing nonchalant: "Looks like you've learned well."

It was as if the intimate embrace and probing words of the previous moment were just an illusion.

Yan Chen shook his head, not mentioning the failed attempts. He wanted to explain, but didn't know what to say.

After a while, he said, "I plan to go down the mountain after I finish eating."

Qingran smiled and said, "Okay, I'll buy you a few sets of clothes to change into."

The man calmly corrected, "The main purpose is to go to the police station to check on the situation."

To find out the situation, we need to see if there's any news about his car accident or his identity.

As expected of someone who entered the group and took on great power right after graduation, even amnesia cannot change his decisive and efficient nature.

He began to understand why the original owner of this body in the story hadn't lied, but had only hidden the other person's identification and phone.

Yan Chen is not easily fooled.

Did Qingran regret it? Of course not.

Why should supporting characters only be supporting characters, and cannon fodder only be cannon fodder? No matter what the villain does, he never believes in fate.

The thicker the snow and ice on the mountaintop, the more he wanted to know how passionate and captivating the heart hidden beneath the snow was.

Thinking of this, the dormant spiritual core in her sea of ​​consciousness even became slightly excited. Qingran smiled and said, "Okay."

A note from the author: