Huo Jingyuan put down the thermal container he was holding, wrapped an arm halfway around Wen Ci’s waist, and applied a gentle force, pulling her closer towards him.
He leaned close to her ear, his voice low and husky: “Wife, don’t you trust my stamina? If you weren’t returning to the capital, I could keep going all day.”
Wen Ci: “…”
She had become quite immune to this kind of suggestive talk from him.
Suddenly, she glanced down. The green work-style travel pants were tented prominently. She looked up and smiled, “You really can get going anywhere…”
“It’s your fault,” Huo Jingyuan said through gritted teeth.
It was all because Wen Ci hadn’t slept peacefully.
“Heh!”
Then, Wen Ci swallowed. She hadn’t eaten breakfast after being tired all night, and her stomach was growling with hunger. She asked, “Is there chicken in the chicken soup?”
“Yes.”
The thermal container originally had two layers. Grandma Liu, thinking Wen Ci should eat more, had removed one layer and stuffed half a stewed chicken inside.
“Hungry?”
“Mm.”
Huo Jingyuan picked up the thermal container, opened the lid, using the lid itself as a bowl, and poured some soup into it. The rich aroma of chicken soup filled the car.
Wen Ci swallowed again, eagerly reaching out to take the lid. The soup had been put into the container right after cooking and was still quite hot.
“Be careful, it’s hot.”
“Mm.”
The road to the airport was newly built. Uncle Wang was a skilled driver, the road was smooth, and the ride was steady without much jostling.
Wen Ci took a sip of the soup, noticed the goji berries floating on the surface, and raised an eyebrow. “This soup was made for you, wasn’t it?”
“No, Grandma made it specially for you.”
“Then why are there goji berries in it?”
Huo Jingyuan: “…”
Goji berries aren’t exclusive to men; women can have them too. They’re mainly for replenishing blood and energy, giving the skin a healthy glow.
“…And so I could have some too.”
“Oh.” Wen Ci curved her lips into a smile. “You really should replenish yourself, otherwise…”
She deliberately paused for a few seconds, her eyes fixed directly on Huo Jingyuan, silently mouthing the words: “If you don’t replenish soon, be careful you might… die from exhaustion.”
She emphasized the last word silently.
“You…”
Huo Jingyuan didn’t know how to retort. He really should exercise more restraint. His stamina in the latter half of the night was far from what it had been earlier.
“Got it.”
Wen Ci asked, “Are there chopsticks?”
“Yes.”
Huo Jingyuan handed a pair of chopsticks to Wen Ci. The chicken in the soup had been stewed until very tender, falling apart easily when poked with the chopsticks.
Wen Ci picked up a piece of chicken, blew on it. The meat glistened with oil, the skin looking crispy and golden.
She took a bite.
Her eyes lit up. The chicken wasn’t dry at all; instead, it was quite tender. “How is this chicken still so tender after being stewed for so long?”
“That’s not the original chicken from the soup.”
Methods for stewing chicken soup vary. The Huo family preferred to stew a hen first, with another chicken waiting in a steamer. When the soup was halfway done, they would swap the chickens.
This way, the meat in the finished soup would still be edible.
Wen Ci’s eyes curved into smiles. “Huo Jingyuan, now I know why your cooking is so good. You learned from masters.”
…
Arriving at the airport,
Wen Ci had only eaten half of the chicken soup. She wiped her mouth with a tissue and patted the man’s shoulder: “I’m done. The rest is up to you.”
“Take it on the plane to eat later.”
“No need, no need,” Wen Ci refused.
Drinking too much chicken soup at once would make it feel greasy. Besides, the food on the plane was quite good—dishes with meat, up to the standard of a state-run canteen.
“Be sure to call me once you get home.”
Wen Ci reached out and hugged him. “I know.”
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