Chapter 47: Grab His Stomach
"Dad, I won't be back home soon. You take care of the company first." Ling Shen stood in the kitchen stirring the batter in his hand. The electric egg beater made a slight hum, and the butter and powdered sugar in the stainless steel bowl were gradually blending into a fluffy cream.
He held the phone against the side of his face, his shoulders slightly tilted, and carefully sifted in low-gluten flour with his other hand. "Well, for the happiness of your son, you have to sacrifice first. That's it, I'm hanging up." The moment the phone was hung up, the electronic scale on the chopping board showed exactly 200 grams of chopped almonds.
On the other side, Ling's father, whose phone was hung up, listened to the busy tone helplessly, and smiled at Ling's mother beside him.
Lucas leaned against the kitchen doorframe with his whiskey glass, the ice ball clinking gently in the amber liquid.
He watched his friend twist the tip of the piping bag into a neat spiral pattern on the baking tray. The silicone paper on the baking tray still bore caramel-colored marks from the previous baking.
When the last cookie dough was put into the oven, Ling Shen deliberately turned the temperature knob to 170 degrees. The crisp "click" sound of the timer was particularly clear in the quiet kitchen.
"I'm really not used to you acting like this." Lucas shook the wine glass, and the sound of ice cubes hitting the wall of the glass woke up the orange cat lying on the windowsill.
Ling Shen took off his flour-stained latex gloves without a care in the world, and traces of cocoa powder were still on his fingertips from stirring.
"Have you ever heard the saying that if you want to capture a person's heart, you must first capture his stomach?" As he spoke, the oven light came on, coating his focused profile with a layer of warm yellow.
Lucas looked at the man in front of him who was working as a cook and couldn't believe that this was his arrogant friend.
He still remembered Ling Shen's distraught look when he came back that day. He thought Ling Shen would go back to his country, but he didn't expect that this man would tell him the next day that he would stay here for a long time until he could win Su Nian.
As they talked, the sweet aroma of caramelized butter and nuts wafted from the oven. Ling Shen donned the oven gloves with a fluid, almost rehearsed motion.
When the baking tray was brought out, the golden biscuits were still gleaming with an alluring sheen. Just as Lucas was about to reach out, he heard a crisp "snap"—Ling Shen's wooden spatula precisely struck the back of his hand.
"Ling, don't be so stingy. He can't eat so much." Lucas withdrew his hand in pain, and the whiskey swayed dangerously in the glass.
Ling Shen didn't even raise his head as he carefully picked out the burnt scraps with tweezers. "That won't do either. This is specially made for him. If you want to eat it, ask the chef to make it for you."
He carefully packed the cookies into a sealed tin with a daisy pattern, placing greaseproof paper between each cookie, as if he were preserving fragile treasures.
Lucas rolled his eyes angrily, picked up his wine glass and turned to leave the kitchen.
Su Nian sat in a rattan rocking chair in the courtyard, the sunlight filtering through the wisteria trellis and casting mottled shadows on the pages of the book.
As the servant placed the cookie jar on the stone table, the metal lid clattered softly against the glass. As he took his first bite, the crisp almond aroma and sweet caramel flavor spread across his tongue, bringing back memories of how he had used the same recipe in baking class to make his first cookies.
"Butler, why do you want to give the biscuits sent by the gentleman next door to you?" The new servant asked in a low voice as he watched Su Nian unconsciously stroking the biscuit jar.
The old butler looked at the sun-soaked figure in the courtyard, a smile filling the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He shook his head gently, his silver pocket watch chain gleaming in the warm afternoon sun. "It's unspeakable. It's unspeakable."
From that day on, before the morning dew had even dissipated, a dewy blue bell would appear in the study, nestled in a celadon vase. At 3 p.m., freshly ground Ethiopian Yirgacheffe coffee arrived promptly, always with two sugar cubes thoughtfully placed on the rim.
As dusk falls, there are always freshly baked desserts delivered to the kitchen, and sometimes there are crooked smiley faces drawn on the wrapping paper with chocolate sauce.
Although Su Nian never asked, whenever her fingertips touched the still warm lunch box, she would always smile to the air in a way that was imperceptible to others.
Time passed day by day. Although Su Nian did not meet Ling Shen, Su Nian knew that Ling Shen was by his side, waiting for him to completely let down his guard.
The sudden rainstorm hit the carved glass window like a vast army, and the deafening sound tore Su Nian's dream apart.
The servant came in with a silver tray and placed the champagne roses, still covered with morning dew, into the bedside vase. Water droplets slid down the petals, leaving small water marks on the dark brown wooden table.
Su Nian curled up in the silk sheets, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the bed curtains embroidered with vine patterns, her brows always twisted into a knot.
The phone screen glowed coldly in the dim room, and the headline of the news made his eyes ache—"Heavy rain causes multiple road collapses, paralyzing traffic." He stared out the window at the swirling rain, the spire of the neighboring manor looming behind the curtain of rain, as if it would be swallowed up at any moment.
Su Nian bit his lower lip, digging his nails into his palm. He knew Ling Shen's personality too well. To ensure the freshness of the bread, he would never let anyone else do it.
It was raining heavily at the moment. The man might be braving the storm and walking on the muddy ridges to pick the freshest ingredients, or he might be driving carefully on the flooded road, just to deliver the hot bread to him on time.
This realization made Su Nian's heart clench. He had never so desperately hoped that Ling Shen would be "perfunctory" for once. He mechanically counted the raindrops, and when he counted to 307, he suddenly heard -
The sound of the doorbell was like thunder. Su Nian almost jumped out of bed. The hem of her silk nightgown swept across the floor. She rushed to the entrance without even putting on her slippers.
The servant stood there holding the towel for wiping his hands, and didn't even have time to say "Sir, be careful."
The carved copper door handle was suddenly pulled open, and damp steam carrying the familiar scent of rum rushed towards Ling Shen.
Ling Shen's black windbreaker was mostly soaked, and the rain flowed down the collar in streams, dripping down the angular jawline onto the collar.
He was still in the posture of ringing the doorbell, his knuckles showing an abnormal pale blue, but the brown paper box in his arms was tightly protected against his chest, not even the corners were touched by a drop of rain.
The two looked at each other from a distance of half a meter. Su Nian's gaze swept across Ling Shen's hair that was wet by the rain and stuck to his forehead, and across the water droplets condensed on his eyelashes, and finally stopped at those eyes filled with stars.
The scene that had appeared in his dreams countless times suddenly came true, and his throat felt like it was stuffed with water-soaked cotton, so sour and painful.
"Here, this is today's bread, you..." Ling Shen's voice was hoarse from the wind and rain, his Adam's apple rolled as he was about to speak, but he suddenly fell silent when he saw Su Nian's red eyes.
Warm tears first fell on the back of Ling Shen's hand, and then her whole body, trembling with warmth, crashed into his arms. The crisp sound of the brown cardboard box hitting the ground startled the sparrows sheltering under the eaves. Ling Shen held his arms stiffly, feeling the violent rise and fall of the chest in his arms, his mind blank.
"What's wrong with you? Don't cry..." Ling Shen struggled to find his voice. He raised his hand and gently patted Su Nian's trembling back. His fingertips touched the protruding spine under the thin nightgown. "Did my appearance make you unhappy? Don't be sad, I'll just..."
Before she could finish her words, she felt a soft touch. Su Nian tilted her head back and silenced her clumsy apologies with a kiss tinged with salty tears.
Ling Shen's pupils suddenly shrank, and in an instant he took the initiative and grabbed the other person's neck, melting all his anxiety and longing into this long kiss.
There was a faint rumble of thunder in the distance. The servant in the corner of the hall hurriedly covered his mouth, and a suppressed gasp escaped from between his fingers. The butler next to him smiled so hard that his eyes narrowed.
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