On his way back, Gu Lingzhou was thinking about what dishes to make in the evening that would impress Shi Yuxing. Then Master Wang sent him a message saying he was coming over for the door repair. Considering there were two people at home, and in order to maintain balance, General Gu had no choice but to sulk in his starship and send Shi Yuxing a message.
· Gu Lingzhou: The door repairman is here.
· How Long Does It Take to Heal a Star: You’re home?
· Gu Lingzhou: Yeah. They’re inside, so I can only stay in the starship and wait for them to leave.
· How Long Does It Take to Heal a Star: So I won’t get to eat your dinner?
Gu Lingzhou stared at those words, imagining the expression Shi Yuxing might be making on the other side of the screen.
· Gu Lingzhou: You will.
After a long while, Shi Yuxing didn’t reply. He typed on his own.
I, right now, kind of want to n… His fingertip paused, then moved to delete that sentence. Was he being too sentimental? Shi Yuxing was at work. Better not disturb him.
Switching to a different chat window, General Gu furrowed his brows and sent a message to the contact labeled “An Bao.” After getting a reply, he opened a certain app. The homepage was full of cooking videos. Gu Lingzhou tapped the search bar. The search history prominently displayed several entries like “How to make delicious sweet and sour pork tenderloin.”
That plate of sweet and sour pork tenderloin, which he had high hopes for, ultimately didn’t make it to Shi Yuxing by normal dinner time. The reason was simple—not enough time. Plus, as a beginner, he couldn’t control the heat well, and the tenderloin wasn’t coated properly, ruining two or three batches of meat. By the time he finally produced a version that matched the example to his satisfaction, dinner time had long passed. In fact, by the time he cleaned up, it would be about time to pick Shi Yuxing up from work.
Da Ling saw him finally emerge from the kitchen. His dark eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses lazily swept over him, then he rose from the sofa. “Let me see if today’s food is edible.”
Gu Lingzhou hadn’t noticed the house was missing someone. He nodded, yielding his spot to the person currently most skilled at cooking in the household.
The dignified, older alpha glanced casually at the trash can. The corpses of sweet and sour pork tenderloin version 1.0, version 2.0, and possibly even version 3.0 lay inside. He furrowed his brows. “Next time, I’ll guide you. This is too wasteful.” Those pork remains—either pitch black or looking half-raw—were piled up in the trash.
“Where’s the other one?” Gu Lingzhou finally noticed Xiao Zhou was gone.
Da Ling let out a scoff. “He went to pick up Yuxing. Should be almost home.” He quickly washed his hands at the sink, turned on the gas, lit the flame, poured in oil, then added the pre-cut and prepped vegetables to stir-fry.
As he said, before the minute hand had even traveled half of the clock face, the sound of a fingerprint unlock came from the door. Shi Yuxing entered with a tired body, startled by the two people standing in the entryway—he flinched and stepped back, and Xiao Zhou’s pristine white shoes soon had a mark on them.
“What are you two standing here for?” Shi Yuxing steadied himself with Xiao Zhou’s support, pinched the bridge of his nose, took off his shoes, and reached with his toes for his slippers.
Da Ling was the first to reach out, beating Gu Lingzhou to take Shi Yuxing’s coat. “Dinner’s ready. Go wash your hands.”
Shi Yuxing was about to nod when another voice caught up. “I made sweet and sour pork tenderloin.” He immediately felt a sense of dread. It wouldn’t be made with that kind of skill from lunch, would it? At the same time, curiosity crept in—he wanted to see what Gu Lingzhou could produce.
Da Ling interjected: “I didn’t help. He made it entirely on his own.” That statement sounded like a disclaimer. Shi Yuxing took a light breath. He braced himself for the worst, mentally preparing to greet a plate of black coals. To his surprise, the final result changed his opinion of Gu Lingzhou’s cooking.
Glossy caramel color coated the long strips of tenderloin, dotted with white sesame seeds. Just from the presentation, Shi Yuxing felt this was the best-looking dish Gu Lingzhou had ever made. In terms of appearance, it scored an eighty. The remaining twenty points would depend on his tasting.
Xiao Zhou shot a glance at it, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes as well, but he quickly suppressed it. “You made all of this?”
Gu Lingzhou answered honestly: “Only the sweet and sour pork tenderloin.”
Shi Yuxing came out after washing his hands and saw the three alphas standing around the table with three dishes, not doing anything. “What are you all standing there for? Where’s my rice?”
At his words, the three alphas finally moved. Someone pulled out a chair for him. Gu Lingzhou grabbed a pair of chopsticks and handed them to him. Soon, a steaming bowl of rice was placed in front of him. Shi Yuxing tapped the chopsticks against the table. Before he could even pick anything up, a piece of sweet and sour pork tenderloin landed on his white rice.
He didn’t need to guess who had put it there, eager to take credit. Shi Yuxing looked over with interest. Gu Lingzhou’s face showed no flush and his heart rate didn’t spike—he just looked back at him with a pair of dark, glossy eyes, as if urging him to eat it quickly.
The other two, seeing this, unusually didn’t add any other dishes to his bowl. They let that good-looking piece of sweet and sour pork tenderloin sit on his rice, waiting for Shi Yuxing to taste it.
Shi Yuxing picked it up. His pinkish-red lips parted, and together with a bite of soft rice, he bit down on half the tenderloin. Compared to an experienced chef’s work, this piece could be described as crispy on the outside and also crispy on the inside. The flour coating was perhaps too thin, or maybe the starch ratio was off—the meat was on the tough side, barely swallowable.
Indeed, a beautiful appearance was certainly important, but what truly made people fall in love was always the core.
This time, he could only give it a score of eighty-one.
“How is it?” Gu Lingzhou rarely had moments of nervousness. He didn’t let a single detail on Shi Yuxing’s face escape him—every micro-expression was taken in. It seemed he hadn’t done very well.
Shi Yuxing touched his neck, his chopsticks pointing at the dish. “Why don’t you try it yourself and find out?” Gu Lingzhou lowered his gaze, his eyes shifting to Shi Yuxing’s bowl. Under Shi Yuxing’s incredulous stare, he picked up the remaining half of the sweet and sour pork tenderloin, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Hey, just take a new piece. Why are you eating out of my bowl?”
“Exactly, exactly. And it clearly doesn’t look good.” Xiao Zhou chimed in from the side, pouting as he picked up other dishes for Shi Yuxing. “Wifey, try this.”
Gu Lingzhou reached out with his chopsticks again and took a piece from the plate. His expression suddenly softened. He picked up a bigger piece and placed it in front of Shi Yuxing. “Try this one.” Shi Yuxing was confused—could a different piece really be that different from the last?
With a “might as well try” attitude, Shi Yuxing still opened his mouth and bit down. This bite stunned him. It truly achieved a perfect crispy outside and tender inside—he could even say it was better than what the other one had made.
His cheek bulged as he chewed. He unconsciously raised a hand to cover his mouth, his eyes lighting up as he looked at the man beside him. “How… how is this possible?”
Gu Lingzhou explained: “That first piece accidentally got mixed in from the previous batch.” He hadn’t expected the first piece he’d randomly picked for Shi Yuxing to be so accurately chosen. Fortunately, the tenderloin he’d fried in his final attempt—combining An Bao’s ratio with online tutorials—had turned out fine.
Shi Yuxing pointed his chopsticks at that excellent dish and looked at the other two. “You two try it too.”
The alphas didn’t hold back at all, reaching for their chopsticks. With an unspoken understanding between them, both carried the determination to find fault as their claws descended upon that golden plate of sweet and sour pork tenderloin.
One bite each.
After swallowing and holding it for a long while, Da Ling, under Gu Lingzhou’s pride-filled gaze, gave a bland reply: “Mediocre. I’ve had better.” Seeing Da Ling say that, Xiao Zhou was about to chime in as well, but the tense, sword-drawn atmosphere between the two scared him back. He moved closer to Shi Yuxing and served him more food.
Shi Yuxing waved away their smoke of war. “Go get your rice. I have something to say later.”
With four bowls of rice on the table, Shi Yuxing suddenly announced: “I’m going back to the Old Mansion this weekend. I want to look for anything else related to Chu Ke.” No one spoke. Shi Yuxing assumed they’d heard him and continued: “Da Ling, did you also already know that Wen Lan is an alpha?”
The person sitting diagonally across from him paused mid-reach with his chopsticks. His lashes lifted and he gave a soft “Mm,” then his gaze shifted to Gu Lingzhou. “You ran into him today?”
“Not only ran into him, but also discovered something unbelievable.” Shi Yuxing curled his lips, tilting his chin up at him teasingly, looking like a mischievous kitten.
Da Ling and Gu Lingzhou exchanged a glance. A single look was enough for them to understand each other. Xiao Zhou still wore an expression that screamed “What are you guys hiding from me?”—completely lost, like he was guessing a riddle. “What are you talking about that I don’t know? I don’t understand a word.”
Shi Yuxing laughed and rubbed Xiao Zhou’s calf under the table with his foot. Xiao Zhou blushed and fell silent. Things not meant for Zhou—better that the little one stayed in the dark.
Xiao Zhou’s lowered head suddenly shot up, staring straight at Shi Yuxing. “Wifey, you said you’re going back to the Old Mansion this weekend. Can I come too?” He ignored the dagger-like glare Gu Lingzhou threw at him and earnestly pitched himself.
“No. I’m going.” Gu Lingzhou cut him off mercilessly, then served Shi Yuxing another piece of tenderloin.
Shi Yuxing propped up his chin, thinking. “You’re too easy to expose.” At those words, the puppy across from him drooped his head in disappointment, stretching out his foot to try and win him back. But Shi Yuxing had indeed thought this through. Grandmother was, after all, a shrewd woman. It was safer to bring Gu Lingzhou himself.
He turned his head, his gaze unconsciously settling on the alpha.
“We’re almost there.” Gu Lingzhou gripped the steering wheel. The sharp lines of his face made Shi Yuxing’s heart tremble. He had to admit that when he’d entered this marriage of convenience, there had indeed been a bit of lust clouding his judgment.
“What’s wrong? You keep staring at me.” The driver didn’t turn his head, but his peripheral vision kept drifting toward the passenger seat.
Shi Yuxing turned away. “I wasn’t.”
The dense vegetation outside the window formed an unbroken line. They were almost at the Old Mansion. Unexpectedly, Grandmother delivered a reason to them without them needing to find one—claiming she missed them dearly after not seeing them for so long. Shi Yuxing seized the opportunity to visit.
Upon arrival, Grandmother had some temporary business. The two walked side by side into the tea room, looking around, until their eyes met.
In perfect sync, they locked the door and began dismantling the photo frames around the room. Shi Yuxing took apart one after another. Just as he finished removing one and was about to open the back of the frame, he caught a glimpse of the photo where he’d found Chu Ke’s receipt last time. He turned to find Gu Lingzhou. “Hey Gu Lingzhou, this is the photo frame where I found that receipt last time.”
Gu Lingzhou walked over, his eyes on the photo. Full of youthful vitality—a time when his parents were still alive. The sorrow in his heart surged up, quickly washed away by the anger from the truth he’d accidentally uncovered. Shi Yuxing saw the struggle and pain in his eyes and placed a hand on his shoulder, comforting him. “Gu Lingzhou, you still have me.”
Almost the moment he finished speaking, Gu Lingzhou’s hand came up. He took that pale hand off his shoulder and held it in his own. The flame in his eyes gradually died down. “Mm.”
Just then, a knock echoed through the empty tea room. Grandmother’s voice came from behind the door: “Why is this door locked?” Then came the jingling of keys, like a death knell tightening around their hearts. Shi Yuxing frantically put the photo frame back—but accidentally bumped into the back of the frame he’d already opened but hadn’t had time to check. A corner of a piece of paper peeked out, greedily staring at him.
The dazzling emerald green stone at her neck glimmered. Grandmother said: “So you’re here. Why didn’t you say anything? Xingxing, what are you doing with Lingzhou’s photo frame?”
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