Chapter 62: The Cutting Knife (Part 1)
In the early morning, Yu Ling was trapped in a huge bed that was so soft that it could swallow a person, and her consciousness was struggling on the edge of clarity and sinking.
She closed her eyes, but her nose keenly caught a hint of a strange and tempting scent - not the freshness of mountain grass and trees, but an extremely mellow, overbearing meaty aroma with the taste of burnt oil and complex spices. The aroma stubbornly penetrated the thick door crack and entered her nasal cavity.
The aroma instantly ignited my hunger, and my stomach rumbled slightly.
She struggled to open her eyes. Sunlight filtered through the gauze curtains, casting dappled shadows on the polished teak floor. The seat beside her was empty, leaving only the dented mark and his unique, clear, steady aura.
Yu Ling sat up, hugging the thin blanket. The silk coverlet slipped off, revealing a few ambiguous red marks on her shoulders and neck. Her cheeks flushed slightly. She gathered her nightgown closer, and stepped barefoot on the warm wooden floor. Following the increasingly strong aroma of meat, as if drawn by an invisible thread, she quietly opened the door from the bedroom to the large open kitchen.
The scene before her made Yu Ling hold her breath instantly and wake up completely.
The morning light was like a spotlight on the stage, accurately shining on the tall and straight figure in the center of the kitchen.
Zhao Chen stood with his back to her, wearing a dark blue cotton apron that had been washed to a pale, frayed edge. The apron strings were tied loosely around his lean waist, outlining his smooth waistline. The hem of the apron barely covered his long legs, which were covered in dark gray sweatpants.
He hunched his back slightly, his gaze fixed on the massive wooden countertop. On it, the ingredients lay neatly arranged: plump, glossy pork belly, squares of emerald green onion, tender yellow ginger slices, deep red dried chilies, and spices like star anise and cinnamon, like soldiers awaiting inspection.
What attracted Yu Ling's full attention was the knife in his hand.
It was a thick-backed Chinese kitchen knife, its shape so simple it bordered on the unwieldy. The blade was broad and thick, its lines clean and flowing, devoid of any garish ornamentation. The handle was a deep, rich rosewood, its color so rich and oily it seemed to absorb all light. It seemed inlaid with something subtle, occasionally gleaming with a subtle, subtle glow in the morning light.
At this moment, Zhao Chen was holding this ordinary, even somewhat "rustic" thick-backed knife in his hand. His movements were smooth and flowing, with an indescribable sense of rhythm.
The tip of the knife tapped the chopping board, and with a slight shiver of his wrist, without any apparent force, the square piece of pork belly was evenly divided into uniform, mahjong-sized dice like smooth silk. As the blade sliced into the alternating layers of fat and lean meat, there was a subtle, crisp, and clean sound, as if it weren't a tough piece of meat, but the most tender tofu.
The meat was set aside. He then took a thick scallion. He sliced the blade diagonally into the white part of the scallion, his wrist vibrating at a speed so tiny it was barely perceptible to the naked eye, leaving only a blurry, silvery afterimage. All that could be heard was a series of delicate, "thump, thump, thump" sounds like spring rain hitting banana leaves, the rhythm as steady as the most precise metronome.
The sound suddenly stopped.
Zhao Chen lifted his wrist slightly, and the blade left the chopping block. The scallion had already transformed into a pile of hair-thin shreds, each of uniform length and thickness! Each strand was crystal clear, as if it could transmit light!
This amazing performance left Yu Ling stunned! Was her husband's knife skills just cutting vegetables or just art?!
He then switched to a thin, compact scalpel. A piece of tender yellow ginger twirled between his fingers, the blade's tip moving with the swiftness of a butterfly's wings. In the blink of an eye, the ginger disappeared, leaving only a pile of diamond-shaped slices, thin as cicada wings, nearly transparent, gleaming with a warm sheen in the morning light.
After finishing the side dishes, Zhao Chen casually rubbed his thick-backed knife twice on the whetstone beside him—his movements were so casual that they seemed perfunctory. The blade made two soft "swishing" sounds as it scraped across the whetstone. Then, he turned and walked towards the thick casserole sitting on the high-end enameled cast iron stove, bubbling.
The moment he lifted the lid, a powerful, overpowering aroma, a blend of sweet caramel, rich oil, and mellow spices, swept across the open space like a tangible wave! The aroma penetrated Yu Ling's nose, overwhelmingly awakening all her taste buds, and her saliva instantly flowed wildly!
In the casserole, the soup is an attractive, deep and rich date red color, so thick that it clings to the walls, and is bubbling with fine bubbles.
The previously cut pieces of pork belly floated in the sauce, each evenly coated in the alluring gravy. Its color was bright red and translucent, the fat a translucent gelatinous texture, while the leaner meat had distinct veins, absorbing the essence of the broth. Spices like star anise and cinnamon shone faintly in the boiling broth, releasing their final essence.
Zhao Chen picked up a long-handled white porcelain spoon, scooped up a little of the thick broth, tilted his head slightly, and blew gently. The morning light outlined the lines of his focused profile, his high nose bridge and sharp jawline. He extended his tongue and, with extreme caution and a reverent attitude that bordered on sacred, licked the tip of the spoon.
The movements are as natural as breathing.
This extremely subtle movement was like a million-volt electric current, instantly hitting Yu Ling behind the door!
Her cheeks flushed red from her ears to her neck! Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, as if it would jump out at any moment! Her mind buzzed, and some passionate, lingering, blushing images of last night flooded back uncontrollably, instantly overlapping with the image of the apron-wearing man in front of her, concentrating on tasting the food!
How could the way he licked the tip of the spoon be so... so sexy?! Yu Ling felt like she was on fire! She suddenly covered her burning cheeks, feeling guilty, and quickly retreated behind the door. She leaned her back against the cold door, gasping for breath, trying to calm her heartbeat that was about to spiral out of control.
No! This scene is too exciting! I have to record it!
Yu Ling took a few deep breaths, trying to suppress the heat on her face and the pounding heart. She quietly took out her cell phone and pointed the camera at the man in the kitchen who was completely unaware and still immersed in the world of cooking.
The camera zoomed in, focusing on his slender fingers holding the handle of the spoon, with distinct joints, clean and powerful; then it zoomed in to his slightly pursed thin lips, the corners of which seemed to be stained with a bit of tempting sauce color; finally, the camera inevitably captured the heavy, antique rosewood-handled kitchen knife in his other hand.
The sunlight shines through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows and falls unreservedly on the blade.
Yu Ling clearly saw on her phone screen a tiny emblem inlaid near the blade of the rosewood hilt. It was a complex, ancient emblem outlined in some dark golden metal—an eagle, wings spread, ready for flight, clutching a scepter and an ear of wheat in its talons, surrounded by intricate vine patterns.
This emblem… Yu Ling felt strangely familiar, but she couldn't place where she'd seen it before. Without giving it much thought, she quickly pressed the capture button.
Click.
The slight sound of the electronic shutter is particularly clear in the silent space!
Zhao Chen's movements suddenly stopped! The hand holding the spoon stopped in mid-air.
Yu Ling's heart tightened, and she secretly exclaimed, "Oh no! I've been caught secretly taking photos!"
Just as she was about to slip away as if nothing had happened, Zhao Chen had already turned around. The morning light fell on his face, and he squinted slightly, like a disturbed, lazy, yet dangerous leopard. His gaze was fixed precisely on Yu Ling, whose face, only half exposed, was flushed and her eyes were evasive.
The embarrassment of being caught and the shock brought by the "licking the tip of the spoon" scene just now flooded into Yu Ling's heart at the same time. Her face turned even redder, and she wished she could find a hole in the ground to crawl into.
Zhao Chen looked at her ostrich-like demeanor, a flicker of surprise flashing across his eyes before giving way to a deeper, mischievous understanding. He put down his spoon, a meaningful smile curling the corners of his lips as he slowly walked towards her.
"Lingling," his voice was slightly hoarse from just waking up, with a barely perceptible lazy smile, "Are you taking secret photos of me?"
Yu Ling, pressured by his relentless momentum, instinctively retreated, her back pressed against the cold door again, unable to retreat. She held her phone in front of her like a child caught in the act, her eyes wandering and her voice as tinny as a mosquito's. "No...no! I just...I saw you were really serious about cooking...so I wanted to record your life..."
Zhao Chen had already walked in front of her, his tall figure completely enveloping her. He carried the scent of kitchen smoke and the alluring aroma of meat, blending with his own refreshing aura, forming an aggressive hormonal storm. He leaned forward slightly, his amber eyes with a penetrating smile, firmly locking onto her evasive gaze.
"Oh? Recording your life?" He drawled, his gaze sweeping across her blood-red earlobe, his Adam's apple seeming to roll slightly. He reached out, but not to take her phone. Instead, he reached over her shoulder and propped it against the door panel behind her, completely trapping her within his range of presence.
"Then..." He lowered his head, his warm breath caressing the sensitive side of Yu Ling's neck. His voice was as low as a whisper, with a hint of temptation, "Did you take a picture of me tasting it? Do you think... your husband looks good when he licks the spoon?"
boom--!
Yu Ling felt like a bomb had been dropped on her head, and everything went blank! Blood rushed to her cheeks like crazy, and even her neck was red! How...how did he know?! He actually asked?!
"You...you hooligan!" She was filled with shame and anger, and raised her little fist to hit him in the chest, but Zhao Chen easily grabbed her wrist.
His palms were hot, and his fingertips, covered with thin calluses, gently stroked the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist, causing a slight shudder.
"Rogue?" Zhao Chen chuckled, his chest trembling slightly. Seeing her, embarrassed and annoyed, like a terrified kitten, the smile in his eyes deepened, filled with deep doting and undisguised possessiveness. Far from letting go, he took advantage of the way her wrist was held, exerted a little force, and pulled her into his arms.
Yu Ling was caught off guard, and her nose hit his solid and warm chest. The smell mixed with the aroma of meat and his unique scent became stronger, making her dizzy.
"It's only natural to be a hooligan to your wife." His low, laughing declaration echoed above her head, carrying an unquestionable dominance. Then, he lowered his head and kissed her with a clear purpose, accurately capturing her lips that were slightly parted in surprise.
This kiss, with the freshness of morning light and the aroma of braised pork, swept over all her senses gently and forcefully.
Yu Ling's remaining will to resist instantly crumbled in the face of this familiar and addictive scent. She whimpered, her body softening as he held her tightly in his arms, passively enduring this sweet "punishment."
After a long time, Zhao Chen reluctantly let her go, resting his forehead against hers, breathing faster, his amber eyes filled with lingering affection and a hint of cunning: "There's a price to pay for taking secret photos, Mrs. Zhao. Now, go wash up and get ready for dinner." He patted her hips, his movements intimate and natural.
Yu Ling was dizzy from his kiss, her cheeks were burning, and her legs were a little weak. She had no memory of the secret filming. She glared at him with a red face, turned around and rushed into the bathroom as if escaping.
Only after the warm water washed over her did Yu Ling's pounding heart finally calm. She looked at her still-flushed face in the mirror and slapped her forehead in frustration. "What a beauty! I almost forgot what I was doing!"
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