BFILWY CH 22

Chapter 22: Pork’s Trotter Noodles

Ye Qinghe had been self-closed for too long. Once he had the intention and found an opening, the surge of excitement would be unstoppable. In just a few minutes, he decided to take action.

He Zhi fan was right. Inferiority and isolation had never been his style.

Uncle Jin Chun was even more right. His family—his always gentle mother, his kind older brother, even his temperamental father—had never given up on this troublesome Ye Qinghe. They had nagged him, scolded him, all because they hoped he would turn his life around and live a better life.

It had been six years, and he was due for an attempt at moving forward. He truly believed his family wanted him to be happy.

Ye Qinghe smiled and stood up, slowly walking to An Yue’s room door. He raised his hand, about to knock, but the door opened on its own. As soon as An Yue opened the door, Ye Qinghe’s fist was coming toward him. He leaned back to avoid Ye Qinghe’s attack.

“Chairman Ye?” An Yue exclaimed, and Ye Qinghe barely managed to stop his punch. Seeing that Ye Qinghe’s action wasn’t an attack but a knock, An Yue let out a sigh of relief, patted his chest, then took Ye Qinghe’s hand and led him back to the living room. “Has Mr. He gone?” he asked as he noticed there was no one else in the living room.

“He went to take a bath. He’ll be staying here for the next few days,” Ye Qinghe replied.

An Yue frowned. “Staying here? He’s sleeping… Oh, sleeping in your room, I don’t need to ask.” He pursed his lips and corrected himself. “Is there something you need from me, Chairman Ye?”

“I’ve been thinking, and I think I should follow tradition and have some pork’s trotter noodles for good luck,” Ye Qinghe said earnestly. “I wanted to ask if you have any noodles at home. Could you cook a little for me?”

“…” Too clever. An Yue shot him a glare, but secretly let out a breath of relief. On the one hand, he could explain things to Aunt Chen, and on the other hand, it gave him a way out. He had initially planned to sneak out for food, but now he had the perfect excuse to eat openly.

“Yes, just wait a moment. I’ll cook it now.” An Yue went to the kitchen to boil water and heat up the pig’s feet. The noodles were very thin, so once the water boiled, they cooked in no time. An Yue flustered as he fished out the noodles, dividing them into two bowls, adding the pork’s trotter braised sauce, and placing two pieces of pork’s trotter in each bowl—done.

He brought the two bowls of noodles to the table, and Ye Qinghe was already sitting at the dining table, waiting to eat.

An Yue pretended to ask, “I made two bowls, should I ask Mr. He to come out and eat?”

“No need. He’s probably asleep. You can eat with me,” Ye Qinghe replied.

That was exactly his plan. An Yue immediately sat down and took a bite of pork’s trotter.

Ye Qinghe had been smiling since An Yue agreed to make the noodles, but as soon as he took a bite, his smile froze on his face. “Uh…”

“Hey, hey, you can’t bite through the noodles. You have to suck them all in one go, or it’ll be unlucky,” An Yue said as he continued chewing on the pig’s feet. He noticed Ye Qinghe with noodles hanging from his mouth and quickly reminded him, afraid he might bite through it.

“Alright, I’ll suck it in,” Ye Qinghe thought to himself, managing to swallow the whole mouthful with some difficulty.

“Is it good?” An Yue asked, seeing Ye Qinghe’s expression and feeling a bit uneasy.

“…”

Ye Qinghe hesitated to criticize An Yue but really wanted to know just how bad someone had to be in the kitchen to turn noodles into something like this. He thought carefully and realized he had never had a meal cooked by An Yue that was still edible. It was truly a pity. He couldn’t help but smile and, in an attempt to comfort him, said, “It’s good.”

“If it’s good, then eat more,” An Yue said happily. Seeing Ye Qinghe eat a few more bites, he thought it must really be not bad. He finished a piece of pig’s feet and took some noodles for himself. For good luck, An Yue also sucked up a big mouthful, almost choking.

“Good heavens, my God,” An Yue pounded his chest, trying to get the noodles down. The noodles were soggy and salty to boot. “These noodles are both mushy and salty! You’re still saying they’re good? You’ve got a messed-up sense of taste!”

Ye Qinghe couldn’t help but laugh out loud, then quickly coughed a few times to cover it up. An Yue had no mercy in criticizing his own cooking and even playfully mocked Ye Qinghe in return. His reaction was just too adorable.

“I can’t! This is just too awful,” An Yue grumbled, “I’ve never had anything so horrible.” Ye Qinghe suppressed his laughter, shaking his head and, in a low voice, said, “Dumpling skin soup?”

At that moment, the phone rang, effectively stopping An Yue from giving his employer any more verbal punishment. An Yue rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue before picking up the phone. “Hello, Aunt Chen?” His tone immediately returned to one of politeness and respect, like a little gentleman.

It was Aunt Chen calling to ask if An Yue remembered to cook the longevity noodles. An Yue quickly stepped aside to talk on the phone.

“Yes, I cooked them,” An Yue said with a frown, “but the noodles are really salty. I might’ve added too much salt.”

“What? You added salt?” Aunt Chen exclaimed on the other end of the line, and even Ye Qinghe could vaguely hear her. “Silly child, the noodles are already salty by themselves! You don’t need to add salt!” Aunt Chen laughed loudly, and An Yue responded in a muffled tone before hanging up.

“Ugh, don’t eat anymore,” An Yue said in frustration as he tried to take the bowl, but Ye Qinghe stopped him.

“There’s only two bites left. I’ll finish it,” Ye Qinghe replied.

“What’s wrong with you?” An Yue insisted, wanting to take the bowl away. “If I finish this bowl, my kidneys will fail.”

“You specially cooked this for me,” Ye Qinghe spread his elbows and turned, blocking An Yue, then quickly shoveled the remaining noodles into his mouth. By the time An Yue got to the bowl, Ye Qinghe had already finished it all.

“You…” An Yue stared at the empty bowl in shock. “You’re something else. My cooking could probably be thrown to a stray dog, and even the dog wouldn’t eat it. It’s a miracle you managed to finish it.”

“That’s what you say,” Ye Qinghe said with a purposely stern face, “speak properly.”

“My cooking… even stray dogs would fight over it?” An Yue hesitated.

Ye Qinghe burst into laughter.

(To be continued…)