Han Mo instantly realized that Qiao Ran had figured out that he was the one who made these dishes.
"Making breakfast for me in secret, having Aunt Li beg me in tears to eat it, preparing breakfast at the hotel and saying Aunt Li delivered it from there.
Last night, severely injured, you insisted on making me breakfast while wounded; today, through the agony of infected wounds and ripped stitches, you've made over a dozen dinner dishes for me again.
General Han, do you think what you're doing is remarkable, touching, and full of glory? So moving that even heaven would cry a storm upon seeing it?" Qiao Ran's gaze was as icy as a blade when he confronted Han Mo.
Confronted with his secret being exposed, Han Mo—standing at an imposing 6'2"—bowed his head like a guilty child, daring not to meet Qiao Ran's eyes.
Seeing Han Mo's obediently waiting demeanor, the fury in Qiao Ran's heart burned even hotter.