Just as Yan Huan's attention was completely drawn to the pizza box giving off that rich, greasy, irresistibly sinful aroma, and he was about to sidestep Mydei's wall-like obstruction—
Mydei lowered his voice further, carrying an almost stubborn seriousness.
"He has only just passed the critical stage. What he needs is a nutritionally balanced, easily digestible meal to regain his strength."
"Takeout made this way, with ingredients of uncertain freshness, will do him no good in his current condition. It may even worsen the burden on his body."
Phainon, however, merely shrugged unconcernedly and even held the pizza box out farther. The bottom had gone slightly soft from the heat.
The scent of rich cheese, savory meat sauce, and perfectly baked crust wafted out more directly and forcefully, almost taking tangible form as temptation.
"You're way too rigid, Mydeimos."
"People need food to survive. Eating happily is what matters most. Once someone is in a good mood, their body recovers faster."
"Just look at Brother Yan Huan's eyes. He clearly wants a hot slice of pizza to tide him over first. Right, partner?"
"Ummmm..."
Yan Huan's gaze was stuck to the pizza box within arm's reach, and his throat bobbed involuntarily.
The golden, stretchy cheese, the layers of sausage slices, and the slightly charred crust all gleamed with enticing oil beneath the lights.
"Master Wan, you know me. I love junk food more than anything in my life. It's my spiritual sustenance."
Mydei did not look at Yan Huan. His gaze remained locked on Phainon's face, especially the cheap takeout box in his hands that clashed so badly with the refined surroundings. His frown deepened.
"Hah. What right does someone who usually only makes people eat grass—salads—have to argue with a chef who truly understands culinary art and cares about