The kitchen light was soft, and as it fell over Wu Zhangkong, it somehow lent her a faint touch of domestic warmth.
She still had those cool, aloof features and that indifferent expression, but her movements were remarkably meticulous. Her pale fingers deftly picked through the water spinach, arranging the lush green leaves neatly.
She lit the stove and poured in the oil. The temperature rose.
Wu Zhangkong gently controlled the heat with Soul Power. The moment the minced garlic hit the wok, a rich aroma burst forth.
The water spinach went into the wok, and after only a few tosses, it emerged emerald green and glistening. Even the rim of the plate was spotless—a fresh, clean dish of garlic water spinach.
Turning around, she took out a porcelain bowl, cracked in eggs, added water, mixed them evenly, and skimmed away the foam.
Her movements were so light that they made almost no sound, as though she feared disturbing something.
Xie Xie was still lying on the sofa, hugging a pillow. The warmth of the room had completely relaxed him.
A faint fragrance of garlic and eggs lingered around his nose, while the soft clinks of kitchenware sounded in his ears. Warm light fell over him, making him so comfortable that he grew drowsy.
As he watched, his eyelids grew heavier and heavier. His head tilted to one side, and still hugging the pillow, he quietly fell asleep.
The usually lively, mischievous boy slept without any guard up. His long lashes hung low, his cheeks looked soft, and even his breathing became light and steady, like a tiny beast exhausted from playing.
When Wu Zhangkong came out carrying the final dish of stir-fried Soul Beast tenderloin, she immediately spotted the sleeping figure on the sofa.
She quietly set the dishes