BPDSB Chapter 30: “Dr. Xu, this thing you coo—yuehh—!”

Xu Xiliu lay on the floor, with Qin Li pressing down on top of him—his neck was gripped tightly by a large hand, leaving him unable to move. That hand was taut with bulging veins, the muscles of the forearm flexed and firm, standing out beneath the thin layer of sleepwear—making it impossible to doubt the strength it contained. In the dense darkness, he could just barely make out the man’s pair of black eyes, flashing with a piercing light, like a wild beast.

Having been harshly questioned by the man, he pursed his lips, equally baffled.

Why was he here? He wanted to know that too.

Just a moment ago, Xu Xiliu had still been pacing back and forth on the large balcony, trying to dispel his frustration and resentment. The deep night was already quiet—there weren’t even birdcalls in the mountain forest. Only the occasional rustling of leaves as wind brushed through the treetops made any sound, emphasizing the silence even more, as if he were the only person awake in the world.

Sleeplessness already made one feel full of grievance, and realizing that just made him feel even more inexplicably wronged. Xu Xiliu pressed his lips together in a fit of anger and stomped hard twice on the balcony floor—but even then, out of a lingering sense of morality, he restrained himself from stomping too loudly for fear of disturbing the others sleeping in the villa. This only left him more stifled. He really wanted to drag out the culprit responsible for his insomnia and shake him awake so he could suffer a taste of this torment too!

With this thought in mind, Xu Xiliu gritted his teeth and glared toward the door next to him.

At that moment, in the overly silent dead of night, he seemed to hear a strange sound.

It was faint—there, and yet not quite there. Floating through the wall, mixing with the rustling of the wind outside—it sounded especially desolate and chilling.

It sounded a little like laughter—brief and abrupt. On first listen, it even resembled a cold laugh?

Who would be letting out a cold laugh in the middle of the night?

Goosebumps rose instantly across Xu Xiliu’s skin.

He rubbed his arms and steadied his nerves, carefully checking his surroundings. The large balcony was spacious, and the light from his room was still on. The warm glow spilled out, pushing away part of the darkness, making the lighting here not so dim. That brightness and warmth eased much of the unease in his heart.

But the closer one got to the protagonist gong’s side, the darker it became—after all, the lights in the protagonist gong’s room were off. And if Xu Xiliu hadn’t misheard, that ghostly, chilling laugh had come from that direction.

What was going on?

Haunted?

The moment that thought flashed through his mind, and after his goosebumps had settled down, Xu Xiliu’s first reaction wasn’t fear—but anger.

Damn it, this was seriously too much!

Already annoyed enough from being unable to sleep—and now this death-game nonsense on top of it? Playing ghost tricks, was it?

Honestly, his current insomnia-fueled resentment was more intense than any ghost’s. If some entity dared to play at haunting, then it better be ready to face him—who scares who isn’t a given yet!

Xu Xiliu’s whole heart brimmed with resentment and irritation. His handsome face was filled with anger as he walked over with a smile, wanting to see what was really going on. But the moment he stood before the sliding door leading from Qin Li’s room to the balcony, the sound suddenly stopped—everything returned to silence.

What now? Chickened out?

Extremely displeased, he frowned and leaned closer, turning his ear to listen for any sound. But before he could make anything out, the door in front of him suddenly slid open with a swish—pitch-black inside. A gust of cold wind hit him, and with his hand still braced on the now-moving door, Xu Xiliu was caught off guard and toppled forward, eyes wide as he watched himself slam into something hard, and then crash heavily to the floor.

That fall left him completely dazed—any grievance, any anger—all knocked clean out of him. Only confusion remained. Although he’d hit something and fallen with it, which cushioned his impact a little, Xu Xiliu still felt like his head had taken a serious jolt.

Had he actually… bumped into a ghost?

Wait—ghosts have physical bodies?

No—something was off.

The moment he fell, Xu Xiliu distinctly heard a low grunt from whatever was beneath him. The sound was faint, but its tone was awfully familiar—deep and low, just like that ghostly cold laugh he’d heard moments ago.

Moreover, Xu Xiliu could feel that the thing beneath him, while hard, also carried a certain softness upon closer inspection—it felt like muscle?

And it was warm, clearly the temperature of a living body. He had fallen on top of the other person, his head resting against the chest area, and could feel the subtle rise and fall of breath as well as the slight vibration from that muffled grunt earlier.

There was breathing.

It was a person—not a ghost.

And given that this person was in the protagonist gong’s room, who it was went without saying.

Xu Xiliu didn’t even have time to process why the other man was letting out that idiotically sinister cold laugh in the middle of the night, or why he had apparently walked toward the balcony, resulting in the two of them crashing together. The next second, his position was flipped—he went from lying face-down to being laid flat on his back, pinned heavily to the floor. Already dazed from the fall, Xu Xiliu grew even more disoriented from the sudden movement. Eyes half-lidded, it took him several seconds to recover. Only then did he register the man’s cold, angry voice full of questioning.

How amusing. The culprit had the audacity to act like he was the one in the right?

That question did it. All the irritation Xu Xiliu had lost in the confusion of the fall instantly returned. He let out a laugh and snapped back with equal sharpness:
“You’re asking me? I was just about to ask you—why the hell were you up in the middle of the night, standing there cold-laughing like some maniac?”

Again, he looked straight into the man’s piercing eyes.

In the dark, the two locked eyes.

The man’s large hand was still clamped around his neck. Xu Xiliu clawed at his hand, refusing to back down and glaring right back.

Damn man was choking him too tightly.

He couldn’t breathe.

Furious and out of breath, Xu Xiliu dug at the man’s fingers hard before the pressure finally eased a little.

Qin Li was briefly stunned by the counter-question.

Cold laugh?

Maybe he had. But that wasn’t important—what mattered was why Xu Xiliu was here.

At this hour, the other should’ve already been asleep.

Then, something occurred to him. Qin Li’s eyes grew darker, emotions churning beneath the surface.

Could it be that the other couldn’t wait, and had just moved in but already wanted to make a move on him in the middle of the night?

Heh.

With that thought, Qin Li unexpectedly calmed down. Looking down at the youth beneath him, his black eyes narrowed as he scrutinized his expression. His handsome face was full of wary suspicion.

The youth lay on the floor, clutching his hand, his body completely shrouded in the shadow cast by him.

The night was heavy, the light dim. It should have been impossible to make out the other’s expression clearly—but those upturned peach blossom eyes were especially bright and vivid. Qin Li could see clearly that the other was angry. Those finely shaped lips parted slightly as he panted, then pressed together again in frustration, pulling hard at his hand.

Probably because he’d gone home to pack clothes before returning, the youth wasn’t wearing the villa-issued robe, but his own sleepwear—something clearly personal. A pale moon-colored outfit, soft and well-fitted, it looked like moonlight poured over him in the darkness. Because of the physical scuffle, the clothing was slightly askew, allowing Qin Li’s sharp eyes to catch a glimpse of the smooth curve of a collarbone beneath the fabric.

At such close range, he could even faintly smell the scent on the youth’s body—an extremely light floral and fruity fragrance…

His mind momentarily slipped.

And in that instant, a powerful force broke through—Xu Xiliu shook off his grip.

After getting up, Xu Xiliu smack—turned on the light. There was an undeniable edge of anger in the motion.

He turned back and saw the man squinting in discomfort from the sudden brightness—but he still didn’t look pleased.

“You’re not sleeping?”

He had originally assumed the other was already asleep. But clearly, he wasn’t.

Not only was he not asleep, he had been standing there alone—cold-laughing—what kind of crazy behavior was that?

Now Xu Xiliu was absolutely certain that the cold laugh he had heard on the balcony had indeed come from Qin Li—because the tone, the emotion, that inherent touch of neurosis, was exactly the same as when the man usually directed his sarcastic ridicule at him.

Sure enough, the very next second, Xu Xiliu heard the man let out another cold laugh in response to his words.

Qin Li narrowed his eyes, his expression displeased. Because of the sudden glare of the light, his gaze was still a little unfocused, but he stubbornly kept it fixed on Xu Xiliu. Curling his lips in mockery, he said,
“Not sleeping? Isn’t that question better asked of Dr. Xu? Why are you sneaking around outside my room in the middle of the night?”

Xu Xiliu let out an exasperated laugh.

He plopped himself down on a chair.

“What do you mean sneaking around? Do you even hear yourself? You’re the one who arranged these rooms. Did it never occur to you that something like this might happen? The two rooms are connected by one big balcony. I was having insomnia and went out for a walk on the balcony—what about it? How does that affect you?” Xu Xiliu retorted sharply.

Qin Li adjusted to the blinding light, sat back down on the bed, and pressed his lips downward.
“But you appeared outside my door.”

“That’s still part of the balcony, isn’t it?” Xu Xiliu shot back.

Qin Li was choked into silence.

The two stared at each other, neither willing to back down, the atmosphere locked in tension.

After a moment, as if something had occurred to him, Qin Li asked:
“Insomnia? You had insomnia?”

So it was insomnia that had brought him to the balcony, not sneaking around in the night to make a move against him?

He fixed his gaze on the youth, full of disbelief.

Xu Xiliu, at that question, felt all the frustration of lying awake surge back up, and even his expression grew colder, stripped of its usual gentleness.

“Yes. I couldn’t sleep.”

“I had insomnia, so I came out for some air.”

“Why insomnia?” Qin Li pressed relentlessly.

Xu Xiliu clicked his tongue.
“Good question. I’d like to know myself. I’ve never had insomnia before. Thinking it over, the only possible reason is the room you arranged for me not working.”

With no one else around, and with anger egging him on, Xu Xiliu didn’t bother with polite “Mr. Qin this, Mr. Qin that.” The only reason he hadn’t outright called him a dog bastard was because he was holding himself back.

Qin Li didn’t notice this slip at all—he only registered the word “room.”

The room wasn’t good?

Was he trying to change rooms?

He had arranged things so carefully precisely to make it convenient to keep the other in check—this absolutely could not be allowed!

So Qin Li’s expression turned cold. His lips pressed into a tight line, and he said nothing more.

Unexpectedly, the youth asked him back with irritation:
“And you? What are you doing up in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?”

At these words, Qin Li slowly lifted his eyes, fixed his gaze on him for a few moments, then finally spoke, his voice void of emotion:
“Nothing. Ever since moving here, I’ve rarely been able to fall asleep. Spending the whole night awake until dawn is a common occurrence.”

Hearing this, Xu Xiliu froze for a moment.

Oh, right—insomnia.

The original book had mentioned that the protagonist gong suffered from insomnia. He had even prescribed medicine for it that included sleep aids.

Tsk—he had gotten muddled.

Perhaps because they were both unable to sleep—two fallen people at the end of the earth—Xu Xiliu’s invisible resentment began to dissipate. Thinking it through carefully, compared with the protagonist gong, his own situation was much better. After all, his sleeplessness was only from a temporary lack of adjustment, whereas the man had been unable to sleep for a long time. Truly, without comparison there is no harm—he felt balanced again.

Xu Xiliu couldn’t help imagining what it would be like if he had been tormented by insomnia for a long time. A chill ran down his spine.

Far too dreadful.

Just one night of insomnia was already enough to make him full of resentment.

If this man had been sleepless for so long, then his abnormal sharpness and constant sarcasm did seem understandable.

Unconsciously, Xu Xiliu’s gaze toward the man carried a trace of sympathy.

Qin Li noticed the youth’s sudden, oddly tender expression, and couldn’t help a question mark forming in his mind.

What was with this little fox’s strange look?

In reality, Qin Li didn’t feel that his inability to sleep was abnormal. He had already grown accustomed to it. What’s more, he enjoyed that feeling of being awake alone in the deep of night.

Of course, that was something Xu Xiliu couldn’t possibly understand.

By now, Xu Xiliu’s mood had nearly calmed down completely. Even looking at the man in front of him, he found him much more tolerable.

Since the other was also suffering insomnia, there was nothing left to complain about.

As for the room issue—he could deal with that later.

Thinking this, Xu Xiliu’s gaze swept once over Qin Li, and he was just about to get up and go back. But suddenly, his eyes froze on the man’s feet.

Only then did he realize—the man was not sitting in his wheelchair. His feet, wrapped in gauze, were planted directly on the floor.

It was obvious: from the moment they had collided and fallen together in the darkness, to the short conversation they’d just had while Xu Xiliu prepared to head back to bed—the entire time, the man had been standing or sitting with his injured feet directly touching the ground.

What was even more outrageous—he wasn’t even wearing slippers!

Xu Xiliu’s vision went dark with anger. Without another thought, he strode over, squatted down, and grabbed the man’s ankle, lifting his foot up.

Sure enough—the white gauze on the sole was faintly seeping blood.

He lifted his head.

Smiled.

And felt that the man in front of him suddenly looked hateful again.

“Mr. Qin, what is the meaning of this?” Xu Xiliu took a deep breath, keeping his smile in place, though his peach blossom eyes were filled with fire. “Do you not know that if a wound hasn’t scabbed over, putting weight on it will cause it to split open again?”

Qin Li had nearly toppled backward off the bed when Xu Xiliu suddenly lifted his foot up. He was annoyed, but after hearing those words, he gave a dismissive cold laugh.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Xu Xiliu nearly fainted from anger. “Maybe it doesn’t matter to you, but it matters to me!”

“Can you not at least respect someone else’s hard work?”

Doctors couldn’t stand seeing something like this.

Fueled with rage, Xu Xiliu stomped off, grabbed his own medicine box, and came back. His lips pressed tight, he wordlessly lifted the man’s ankle and began unwrapping the gauze, preparing to clean and re-bandage the wound.

During the process, the man tried to struggle—but before he could move much, Xu Xiliu pinned him firmly in place, his sharp gaze shooting over several cutting glances.

The warning in them was unmistakable.

Qin Li froze. His eyes involuntarily fell on the youth crouched at his feet, tending to his wound. His gaze slid over the slightly messy strands of hair, those peach blossom eyes that still brimmed with anger even though they were cast downward, and the lips pressed tightly together. He felt an odd sense of novelty.

This cunning fox, who had always worn a mask of elegance and composure—what was this now? He wasn’t pretending anymore, and was actually showing such a fiery temper?

And why was he so anxious just because the wound had reopened?

Was this… concern for him?

A subtle, complicated emotion spread through Qin Li’s chest. He quietly continued to observe, staring and staring. After a long pause, he suddenly, as if his brain had short-circuited, asked:
“Did you swallow explosives?”

Xu Xiliu’s hands suddenly moved with extra force. He succeeded in drawing a muffled grunt from the man. Lifting his head, he smiled—gentle expression, elegant demeanor. His light-colored lips curved slightly as he opened them to say a long string of words:
“I swallowed your XXXXXXXX…”

In an instant, Qin Li’s ears were filled with an onslaught of all sorts of words—flowers, grass, table legs, and the like. Individually they sounded harmless, but strung together their impact was immense, like a fierce gust of wind so strong it nearly forced his eyes shut.

His expression went blank.

Xu Xiliu, face devoid of expression, continued bandaging without mercy.

Hmph. If I don’t throw a little profanity at you to shake you, do you really think my temper is that good?

Perhaps that earlier outburst had truly hit home, because all the way until the bandaging was finished, the man didn’t utter another word. He was uncharacteristically obedient. When Xu Xiliu finally tidied away the supplies and stood up, he saw that the man still wore a dazed, dreamlike expression, his handsome face slightly blank. Xu Xiliu couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from twitching.

Was he actually… scared?

He returned to his usual gentle demeanor. His tone was calm, and with light movements he patted the man’s shoulder.
“I said, before the wound scabs over, don’t walk on it again. Mr. Qin, did you hear me?”

For no reason, Qin Li shivered. He looked at the youth’s gentle, beautiful face.

With a complicated expression, he gave a nod.
“…I heard.”

“Mm.”

Xu Xiliu was quite satisfied, picked up his medicine box, and left.

He still took the balcony passageway.

Originally, it had all started with being sleepless, going out to the balcony to get some air—who would have thought he’d end up giving himself extra work. Truly, he was born to toil.

But after letting out some of his pent-up frustration through that bit of “work,” he actually felt drowsy.

Xu Xiliu yawned, a faint mist of tears welling up in his peach blossom eyes. That familiar exhaustion rising instinctively from deep in his body after completing a task—like any laborer—was far too familiar. When he returned to his room and lay down on the bed, it didn’t take long at all before he completely fell asleep.

He slept straight through until broad daylight.

Because of his insomnia the night before, this time he slept all the way until noon.

The first time had been awkward, but the second time was easier. By now, Xu Xiliu’s skin had grown much thicker. When he got up close to midday and went out, even when running into the butler he could keep a calm face.

Butler Zhong greeted him with a cheerful smile.
“I already heard from sir—Dr. Xu even re-bandaged his wound in the middle of the night. Thank you for your hard work.”

“…Mm.” Xu Xiliu gave a response, feeling a little awkward when he remembered the embarrassing incident with the protagonist gong on the balcony last night. But judging from the butler’s expression, he seemed unaware? Xu Xiliu relaxed, and even had the spare mind to ask about another fellow insomniac:
“Has Mr. Qin gotten up yet? He didn’t seem to have slept well yesterday.”

“Sir is the same as always—he woke up a little after seven.”

“But judging from his expression, I’d say he actually slept pretty well during the latter half of the night. Dr. Xu, you don’t need to worry.”

The butler continued speaking with a smile, clearly having expected this outcome.

Although Xu Xiliu had no idea how the butler could determine the man’s quality of sleep just from his expression, on second thought it made sense: if that perpetually dark face of his got even stormier, then he must have slept poorly. Thinking along those lines, Xu Xiliu could understand it. He smiled agreeably and let the topic pass.

Near noon, with lunch almost ready, the butler had other matters to attend to, so he asked Xu Xiliu if he could call Qin Li down for the meal. Xu Xiliu thought it over and agreed—after all, it was just a convenient errand.

So he went back upstairs and knocked on the man’s door.

“Mr. Qin, it’s time for lunch.”

Inside, Qin Li—after waking up in the morning—had uncharacteristically dozed off again during the late morning hours.

When he awoke again, he felt his back was uncomfortable, somewhat sore, especially around the bones. Taking off his shirt, he went to stand before the mirror.

On the man’s broad, well-shaped back, starting from the shoulder blades and stretching downward, there was a conspicuous patch of bruising.

Even his waist had a spot.

As for where the bruises had come from—after thinking it over, Qin Li could only conclude it was from the night before, when he had gone to “catch a ghost,” collided with Xu Xiliu, and ended up being used as the other’s cushion.

A cushion.

Qin Li’s face immediately darkened.

And at this point, he began to think through the entire matter more carefully.

Although that little fox had said he was out on the balcony because of insomnia, who could say what the truth was? There was no guarantee he hadn’t harbored ulterior motives, intending to make a move on him, only to change his excuse at the last moment when things went wrong.

Not to mention, after using him as a cushion, he had the audacity to turn around and curse him to his face.

Hmph—unforgivable!

Qin Li revealed a sinister, forbidding smile, planning to teach his ungrateful private doctor a lesson.

But before he could act, he suddenly heard the other’s voice calling from outside the door.

That voice was gentle and pleasant, like a spring breeze. Though muffled slightly by the door panel, just from the tone alone one could picture the beautiful person standing on the other side.

Perfect timing.

Qin Li narrowed his black eyes. Before the mirror, he unhurriedly put his shirt back on, the bruises on his back along with his sculpted muscles hidden beneath the fabric. Then he headed toward the door.

Halfway there, he suddenly thought of something and hesitated, pausing in place. He quietly went back, sat himself in the wheelchair, adjusted his posture, and only then rolled over to the door and opened it.

Looking at the youth outside, Qin Li raised his chin slightly, face cold and aloof, as if regal.
“What is it?”

“Calling you to eat,” Xu Xiliu replied tersely.

He turned to leave, but was stopped by the man’s voice.

The man lowered his gaze, thoughtful.
“Eat? So it’s time to eat…”

Xu Xiliu held back his impatience, waiting to hear what he had to say. But after half a minute, the man suddenly, out of nowhere, threw out a line:
“Dr. Xu, make me a meal.”

“…”

“?” Xu Xiliu stared in disbelief. “Me? Cook?”

For a moment he thought he must not be fully awake, to be hearing something this absurd.

If he remembered correctly, wasn’t he a doctor—not a chef?

But the man was utterly serious. His dark eyes fixed on him, unblinking, carrying a faintly infuriating smugness and air of entitlement.
“Yes. Cook. I want to eat food made by Dr. Xu. Is there a problem?”

Just like last night.

Let this little fox cook for him again—it would serve as punishment.

If the cooking satisfied him, then he would forgive the other’s insolent words.

So Qin Li thought.

Yet when he saw the youth’s incredulous expression, the obvious reluctance on his face, a subtle irritation stirred in his chest. But it only made him all the more determined to punish him by making him cook.

So Qin Li gave a cold laugh, his fingertips tapping the armrest of his wheelchair. On his handsome face, that sinister smile curved again as he lazily uttered two words:
“Add money.”

“Dr. Xu won’t refuse, right?”

Hearing those words, Xu Xiliu instead calmed down.

Expressionless, he stared at the man in the wheelchair, wondering if perhaps the other’s excessive insomnia had affected his intelligence as well.

Otherwise, why did he keep saying things that sounded like his brainstem was missing?

At first listen, the demand was downright insulting—asking a doctor to cook. But paired with that line shining like gold, “add money,” even the words “cook a meal” seemed to glow with sanctity. Work was work—what laborer picked and chose? Wasn’t it just cooking one more meal? He could manage that. The only question was whether the other would actually be able to eat it.

Never having cooked a proper meal in his life—true culinary novice Xu Xiliu—wore a flawless, gentle smile.

He pushed up the golden-rimmed glasses on his nose. In that moment, it was as if a fox’s tail swayed slowly behind him.
“Very well, Mr. Qin. Then I can make anything, right?”

Qin Li instinctively sensed a trace of danger.

He frowned, but ignored it.

“Mm. Make whatever you like.”

It would be like last night—surely it couldn’t taste that bad.

With those words, Xu Xiliu was reassured. He turned and headed for the villa kitchen, determined to unleash havoc (x), showcase his culinary skill (√).

In the kitchen, Chef Zheng—the very one Xu Xiliu had praised many times—was busy at work. He had seen Xu Xiliu before and knew he was Qin Li’s private doctor.

So he asked in puzzlement:
“Dr. Xu, what brings you here? The food is almost ready.”

“Wait a little, step out for now. There’s a lot of smoke and oil here.”

Back when rumors about Xu Xiliu had been swirling all through the villa, every new servant had heard his “legend.” Someone like Chef Zheng, personally brought in by Qin Li, was even more aware of this youth’s “status” in the boss’s mind. So each time he faced Xu Xiliu, his manner was always very respectful.

Xu Xiliu smiled faintly at his words, face calm, and said evenly:
“It’s fine. Mr. Qin said he wanted to eat food cooked by my own hands.”

“…Ah?” The chef was dumbstruck.

Xu Xiliu shrugged, as if to say: that’s exactly what you heard.

Seeing this, Chef Zheng’s expression shifted again and again, but in the end, he yielded his place.

He knew well his employer’s uncompromising personality. What shocked him was only this bizarre request.

Looking at the youth’s calm face now, he even felt that beneath that composure, some of the boss’s madness had rubbed off on him.

If his eyes weren’t deceiving him, those fair, fine-looking hands of the doctor didn’t look at all like hands that could cook.

He couldn’t help but edge a little farther away.

Chef Zheng wasn’t the only one working in the kitchen—he had several assistants helping.

A room full of five or six people all stared wide-eyed at Xu Xiliu.

As if afraid he might blow up the kitchen.

But Xu Xiliu hadn’t planned to do anything elaborate. After all, he really had never cooked much. Managing instant noodles or a hot pot was already the limit of his culinary struggles. After some thought, he decided to make the seafood congee he’d eaten last night. It had seemed fairly simple, and the basic idea was easy enough to grasp.

So, under Chef Zheng’s verbal instructions, Xu Xiliu boiled plain rice porridge, then added dried scallops, fresh shrimp, clams, and swimming crabs one after another, seasoning with salt, MSG, and so forth. At last, under the increasingly complex gaze of Chef Zheng, he produced a pot of seafood-and-rice mixture.

Chef Zheng simply couldn’t understand. How could the exact same steps result, in the youth’s hands, in a congee with such strange flavor, such strange color, with seafood inside that looked as if it had mutated—its color darkened, murky, bubbling like some kind of sorcerer’s potion?

Xu Xiliu wiped the sweat from his forehead, hesitant.
“This should be okay, right?”

Everything was cooked through.

All the seasonings had been added.

Congee was congee—how far off could the taste really be?

With that, Xu Xiliu, full of confidence, ladled out a bowl and went off to deliver it to the man.

Chef Zheng behind him wore a face that said a thousand words. In the end he quietly “lit a candle” for his employer.

It was hard not to suspect the boss was simply greedy for looks, hence the absurd idea.

Ah, whatever.

Anyway the doctor was right there. He probably would not be killed by it.

Over there, Xu Xiliu set the bowl of seafood congee he had made with his own hands down in front of the man, smiled, and said with fierce energy, “Mr. Qin, eat!”

Qin Li, who had already been getting impatient, raised his eyes. He saw the youth come out wearing an apron, looking very virtuous and pleasing. A thin sheen of sweat dotted his smooth forehead, and there was a smudge of dirt on his cheek from who-knows-where. He snorted softly, for once not mocking.

At that moment he actually looked like he was in a good mood.

Qin Li looked at the food set before him, his expression much softer. He thought: the little fox actually made the same seafood congee as last night; it seemed he had taken it seriously.

Although the color was somewhat strange compared with last night’s.

And the taste too.

Still, since the other had rushed it together, he could tolerate it.

With that thought, Qin Li took up a spoon and tasted a little. While sampling, with his dark eyes half-closed he asked deliberately, “Dr. Xu, this thing you coo—yuehh—!”

The first half of the sentence was normal.

The latter half of the sentence, after his taste buds registered the flavor, immediately turned into a dry heave.

The hand holding the spoon trembled without him meaning it to. He tried to speak, but could not help another dry heave. The next second he actually felt a little faint.

He could not put into words the taste of this seafood congee.

All he could say was that even half-a-month–dried stinking salted fish tasted better than this.

After one mouthful that made him dizzy and roll his eyes, a vein bulged on Qin Li’s forehead and his heart quivered.

Damn it, this little fox really was not so kind after all!

Trying to poison him and not even pretending!