The bright light cut through the space like a sharp blade, splitting the room in two.
The air grew tense. Shi Yuxing sucked in a breath and looked at the cook. Da Ling, still in his cow-print apron, wore a calm expression, completely unruffled by Gu Lingzhou’s words. Xiao Zhou, on the other hand, looked gleeful. He raised an eyebrow at Gu Lingzhou, the curve of his lips perfectly timed.
As if to say—
Great minds think alike.
Da Ling smiled faintly, carrying the composure and reserve of an elder. He didn’t rush to defend himself, only looked at Shi Yuxing. “Yuxing, if it’s really not good, we can always eat out.”
It was a clever move, but it put Shi Yuxing on the spot. How was he supposed to answer? Saying it was good would upset Gu Lingzhou; saying it was bad would be a lie. Under the gaze of three pairs of eyes, Shi Yuxing forced himself to stay calm. “It’s not as bad as you make it sound.”
Gu Lingzhou set down his chopsticks with a sharp clack, the sound landing squarely on Shi Yuxing’s heart.
Da Ling picked up his chopsticks and served Shi Yuxing some sweet and sour pork. “Eat up—this is your favorite.” As he withdrew his chopsticks, the bespectacled alpha seemed to think of something and addressed Gu Lingzhou: “I only made enough for three people. Since you don’t think much of it, feel free to find better elsewhere.”
Shi Yuxing reached for his water glass, hoping to wash down his nerves—but nearly choked at those words. “Cough—there’s enough. I’m not that hungry today. Five dishes are plenty for four people.”
A chair scraped the floor, the friction sparking a hidden powder keg. The air thickened with tension. Shi Yuxing’s head ached, yet he couldn’t help anticipating the show. The sight of Gu Lingzhou being thwarted was rather amusing. Given his personality, he probably would actually try to cook—though he’d said he didn’t know how.
Shi Yuxing eyed the kitchen door suspiciously as it opened and closed. He leaned in to Da Ling and lowered his voice: “Did you know how to cook back then? Don’t let him blow up the kitchen.” Da Ling didn’t answer—time would tell.
Soon, the answer came. Through the kitchen door, he heard a heavy, dull thud—then two more labored thumps. Anyone would think the kitchen was under renovation. His attention piqued, Shi Yuxing stared at the closed door, wondering what Gu Lingzhou was doing to make such noise.
Xiao Zhou seized the empty seat beside Shi Yuxing, sliding in and setting down his bowl and chopsticks. “Wife, I’m driving you to work tomorrow, right?”
Shi Yuxing chewed absentmindedly, barely listening. Xiao Zhou’s words reminded him of that arrangement. He brushed it off: “We’ll see. Let me check the kitchen—don’t want him blowing it up.” With that excuse, he picked up his bowl and headed for the kitchen, leaving the two alphas staring at each other.
It was only a few steps from the table to the kitchen. Shi Yuxing pulled open the door and finally understood the commotion. Gu Lingzhou was locked in a life-or-death struggle with a chunk of frozen meat—clearly straight from the freezer, not even thawed. The cutting board was covered in ice crystals, puddles of melted water pooling on the floor. The sight made anyone wince.
Gu Lingzhou gripped the knife with both hands, the blade lodged in the frozen meat. This was harder than wielding a blade in battle. Hearing the noise at the door, he glanced over, spotted the three of them frozen in place, and immediately set the knife down, turning to block the cutting board. “Are you done eating?”
“Are you renovating in here?” Shi Yuxing couldn’t help but comment at the futile gesture.
Xiao Zhou craned his neck and jeered: “You have no common sense, do you? Frozen meat needs to thaw before you cut it. You’re basically trying to chop through a block of iron.”
Scolded by someone younger, Gu Lingzhou’s ears rarely reddened. He turned away: “I know.” He banged the knife handle against the board, apparently trying to split the meat in half before moving on.
Unexpectedly, the violence split the cutting board itself.
Shi Yuxing watched the board meet its end and winced. “Stop cooking. Come eat with us.” He nudged Da Ling’s arm, silently asking him to say something too. At this rate, the kitchen utensils would all be destroyed by brute force.
Unable to sway the stubborn donkey that was Gu Lingzhou, a plate of charred black lumps still ended up on the table.
Gu Lingzhou clearly knew his creation was inedible and didn’t dare serve it to Shi Yuxing. Shi Yuxing took pity on him and tried to offer some decent food, but Gu Lingzhou refused to give the other versions of himself any ammunition—he wouldn’t touch Da Ling’s cooking. So he ate his rice with the charred meat, black on white.
Bitter and hard, the burnt meat scraped his throat. He stole a glance at Shi Yuxing’s chewing cheeks and silently swore to master cooking and become the best chef in this house.
“Don’t waste that meat. Prices are high these days.” Da Ling adjusted his glasses, rolled down his sleeves, and began clearing the dishes.
Gu Lingzhou chewed the unpalatable food, for the first time finding his own face detestable. He was about to force down another piece when Shi Yuxing’s chopsticks stopped him. “Don’t eat that—too much of that kind of meat and you’ll get cancer.” Instantly, Gu Lingzhou felt a warmth in his chest. He blinked at Shi Yuxing, and the more he looked, the more beautiful he seemed.
“For now, I still don’t want to be a widow.”
“Pfft—” Xiao Zhou burst out laughing, then quickly stifled it, realizing the dark humor of laughing at his own early death.
General Gu, his face dark, dumped the failed meat dish and scraped the last of his plain rice into his mouth. He hadn’t eaten much, but something felt lodged in his throat. Shi Yuxing pushed the leftover dishes toward him, but Gu Lingzhou shook his head. In Shi Yuxing’s eyes, it looked like a rebellious kid challenging himself to eat only rice, refusing the vegetables. He sighed, put the leftovers in the fridge, and muttered, “Even more childish than Xiao Zhou. Suit yourself.”
Gu Lingzhou carried his empty bowl to the sink, where Da Ling stood in his apron. With a cold face, he said, “I’ll handle this from now on.”
The older alpha didn’t refuse. He untied the apron, a smile in his eyes, and handed it over. “Put it on. Rinse with hot water once, then put everything in the dishwasher. Thanks.” Gu Lingzhou didn’t catch the meaning behind that “thanks” until Da Ling reached the door and, over the sound of running water, added: “Thanks for giving us more time with Yuxing. I’ll leave it to you from now on.”
The door closed, and Gu Lingzhou slammed the dishrag into the sink, splashing water everywhere, his sleeves soaked. Regret washed over him—why the hell had he taken this on?
Hearing the commotion and seeing Da Ling emerge, Shi Yuxing paused in his stroking of Xiao Zhou’s hand. He turned to ask, “Is he doing the dishes?”
Receiving confirmation, he frowned. “Is that a good idea? He’d better not break anything.”
“He said he’d take care of it from now on.”
Not even ten minutes later, Gu Lingzhou came out and was met by three pairs of eyes turning to look at him. He took a breath, fixed his gaze on Shi Yuxing, and said, “Done.”
Shi Yuxing stood up. “Then I’ll go shower.”
“Wait.” Gu Lingzhou strode over, as if presenting a trophy. “The info on Chu Ke you asked me to look into—I’ve got it.” He deliberately brought it up in front of everyone, glancing at the two layabouts who’d done nothing all day, and felt a little better.
“Who’s Chu Ke?” Xiao Zhou stood up too.
Shi Yuxing, hearing there was news, forgot about the shower. “Sit down and talk.” Knowing the three would fight over the seats beside him, he walked around the coffee table and settled into the single armchair himself. Gu Lingzhou handed over his phone, the Chu Ke file already loaded.
“Chu Ke was an A-class alpha. Father: Chu Qintian. Mother: unknown.”
Shi Yuxing zoomed in on the details. “He died three years ago?”
“But there’s a private hospital record from a year ago.” Gu Lingzhou pointed to the entry. Shi Yuxing was puzzled. “That’s odd—dead three years ago, but a record from a year later.”
Xiao Zhou, confused, asked, “Why are we looking into him?”
Shi Yuxing’s brows furrowed, his delicate nose wrinkling. “He was the last patient in the glandular disease removal case six years ago.” Taking a breath, he looked up from the phone, thought for a moment, then decided to come clean. “Remember when I went to the old mansion?”
“Half of his medical record was tucked behind one of your photos. No idea who put it there. The frame broke when I accidentally knocked it over.”
As he finished, the expressions of the two alphas darkened visibly, while Xiao Zhou’s eyes widened in shock.
“Chu… Ke.” Beneath the gold-rimmed glasses, Da Ling’s eyes stirred. Shi Yuxing followed his gaze. “Do you know who that is?” Da Ling shook his head slowly. “Never heard of him.”
Shi Yuxing turned to the General beside him. “What about you? Or do you know who put it there?”
“Is it the frame from the photo you sent me?” Xiao Zhou suddenly interjected.
“Yeah, that one.”
Xiao Zhou recalled: “That photo was taken and framed by my parents. Besides them, I can’t think of anyone else who’d put it there.”
Gu Lingzhou’s parents? That would be a dead end.
He zoomed in on Chu Ke’s headshot. The illness was unmistakable—grayish lips, the look of someone near the end. Yet despite that, he wore a faint, gentle smile. If there was a record from a year ago, who had canceled his household registration, and why? Was he still alive?
Shi Yuxing’s thoughts were in turmoil. He read the file from start to finish again, still finding no leads.
“Why not just ask Grandmother? Maybe she put it there.”
“No.” Xiao Zhou’s suggestion was met with unanimous rejection from the other two Gu Lingzhous.
Then a voice shattered Xiao Zhou’s naive hope.
“Grandmother is not a good person.” Da Ling spoke plainly. Shi Yuxing looked at him with surprise; the man seemed to have aged a few more years, the lines at the corners of his eyes deeper. “And…”
“She’s the one who killed Mom and Dad.”
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