"I'm just a tiny bit better than other people."
Yuzuru smiled modestly and sat up.
The two chatted casually, from funny stories at school to Pokémon, in a relaxed and pleasant atmosphere.
Aoko suddenly remembered the fish dish she had enjoyed so much at noon and asked curiously, "By the way, Yuzuru, why is your fish cooking so delicious? It tastes even better than my mom's! Do you have some secret recipe?"
Upon hearing this, Yuzuru's eyes glazed over slightly, as if he were lost in some kind of memory.
He was silent for a few seconds before speaking in a flat tone, with a hint of barely perceptible melancholy: "Perhaps it's because... I started taking care of myself very early on."
"I was an orphan when I was very young."
He gazed at the shimmering river, his voice low as if afraid of disturbing something. "It's been like this since I can remember. There was no one to rely on. Around the age of eight, I had to learn to cook and take care of everything myself, or I would go hungry."
"Cooking fish... back then, I would go to the river to catch fish to fill my stomach, and then gradually figure out how to process and season it to make it edible... the more I cooked and the more I failed, the more naturally I learned, and I had to do it well."
His tone was calm, as if he were talking about something trivial that had nothing to do with him, but the loneliness and precociousness hidden behind that nonchalant manner made Qingzi's heart clench.
She instantly pictured a helpless, frail little boy, tiptoeing awkwardly in a cold, empty kitchen, clumsily learning to cook, perhaps burning himself with oil, cutting his hand with a knife, and helplessly facing burnt, failed attempts... all just to survive...
(system:???
Who stole the large villa and inheritance I prepared for the host?
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