At eleven in the evening, Cheng Zhirang was still in the kitchen preparing dinner.
The person curled up on the sofa half-asleep was waiting for her share of the noodles.
Since she indulged him, Mu Qiu's request that only two fried eggs be made and that both must belong to her was easily agreed upon.
Now in the kitchen, the sound of boiling water was bubbling, and the soup from the fried eggs carried a fresh and savory aroma, making Mu Qiu's stomach rumble along.
"Is it ready?" she asked, mumbling.
"Not yet, wait a bit longer."
Disappointed, she lay back again, her eyelids drooping, dozing off for a while, then asked, "Is it ready now?"
"The noodles are in, it will be ready soon."
"Oh. Still not ready..." she squinted and lay back again.
The third time she asked, just as she opened her eyes, the noodle bowl was placed on the coffee table.
With two eggs nestled on top.
