Mathilda had been under Ding Ling's care all this time.
She had never taken care of Ding Ling.
She felt very uneasy.
She wanted to repay Ding Ling somehow.
But Ding Ling refused her.
The uneasiness in her heart climbed to its peak at that moment.
Ding Ling turned sideways, clasped Mathilda's hand with one hand and gripped her shoulder with the other. He lowered his head slightly and bent forward, staring intently into Mathilda's eyes as he said solemnly:
"Listen, Mathilda. I'm taking care of you because I regard you as my friend. That care means nothing to me. Don't burden yourself over it. If you really feel bad about it, then how about you make me a meal when you have time?"
"Okay!"
Mathilda's pretty face flushed under Ding Ling's gaze, and her whole mind went hazy. She had no idea what Ding Ling was saying and only knew to answer, "Okay."
Only after Ding Ling finished speaking did she come to her senses. Her face instantly turned bright red all the way to her ears. Her cooking was terrible. What if the food she made for Ding Ling tasted bad?
What if Ding Ling despised her after that? Would he stop liking her? Would he stop taking her out for walks, outings, and meals?
The more Mathilda thought about it, the more flustered she became. After parting from Ding Ling and returning home, she turned on the television and watched some cooking channels. But there were very few such channels, and they only aired once or twice a week. Trying to become a master chef just by watching television was utterly unrealistic.
But it was already too late at night, and she couldn't think of a better solution for the moment. She could only make a last-minute