Chapter 32: Fiery Flavors

Back at the farmhouse, the director wasted no time demanding they start filming.

"I'm heading to clean out the chicken coop," Yan Sen said flatly.

The director, spotting Qin Li standing idly, nudged her toward him. "Go with him!"

The countryside stretched wide before them, a vast sea of green fields bordered by a simple iron fence. It was serene, though the empty yard seemed a bit lonely, save for a solitary cherry tree standing in the middle like a forgotten sentinel.

Qin Li couldn't help but ask, "Why don't you plant some flowers?"

"What kind of flowers?" Yan Sen countered without missing a beat.

"Any kind," Qin Li replied enthusiastically. "Bright reds, lush greens—something to add color and vibrancy."

Yan Sen shook his head. "No time to maintain them."

Such a waste, Qin Li thought, eyeing the spacious yard. She began painting a picture in her mind. "You could till a section for vegetables, plant some flowers, and maybe even dig a pond for lotus flowers. Imagine adding a little wooden bridge over it, with bamboo surrounding everything. You could even stock the pond with fish and shrimp. Fresh and ready to catch whenever you want!"

She gasped aloud, swept up in the dreamy image.

Yan Sen, watching her animated expression, quirked an eyebrow. "If you stay, the land's yours to manage."

"You're tempting me on purpose!" Qin Li accused with mock indignation.

He didn't deny it, merely arching his brow with a sly smile.

The chicken coop turned out to be massive—easily 150 square feet, more luxurious than Qu Dani's Munich apartment bathroom. It housed ten chickens and three geese, separated by a wire gate.

Qin Li marveled at the setup. "This is practically a mansion for poultry!"

Inside, faint chirping caught her attention. In a corner, a clutch of recently hatched chicks flitted about, their tiny, fuzzy bodies almost too cute to bear. Mistaking the humans for bringers of food, they hopped and flapped toward them, chirping excitedly.

Yan Sen crouched, palm up, and let a few chicks hop into his hand.

Qin Li froze, captivated by the sight: a towering, rugged man holding delicate, fluffy chicks in his broad palm. The juxtaposition of masculinity and innocence tugged at her heartstrings.

"Can I hold one?" she asked eagerly.

He gently transferred a chick to her hand. The warm, downy creature peeped softly, and Qin Li's smile widened.

"When I was little, vendors would bring chicks to school in baskets. My parents didn't allow pets, so I'd secretly carry them home in my backpack. But no matter how hard I tried, they never survived more than a few days."

At this, Yan Sen instinctively traced a small cross over his chest.

Qin Li giggled and stuck out her tongue.

As he continued tending to the coop, she felt compelled to help. "What can I do?"

"Get the chickens outside to sunbathe so I can clean," he instructed.

"On it!" Qin Li rolled up her sleeves, brimming with confidence.

But the task proved trickier than anticipated. Instead of herding the chickens, she caused chaos—feathers flew, eggs broke, and she ended up with chicken droppings and straw in her hair.

A sharp yelp broke Yan Sen's focus. He turned to see Qin Li sprawled on the ground, a startled chicken leaping off her back. She glanced up at him, sheepishly grinning. "Do chickens bite?"

Leaning against the coop, Yan Sen assured her, "No, chickens are friendly animals—"

Right then, a rooster strutted up and pecked his hand sharply.

Jerking his hand back, Yan Sen locked eyes with the bird. Man and rooster stared each other down in an absurd battle of wills.

Moments later, Yan Sen broke into a low chuckle.

The deep timbre of his laughter sent a shiver through Qin Li. Her eyes zeroed in on his Adam's apple, which bobbed with each chuckle. How could someone exude such raw masculinity with a mere laugh?

In her head, a song played on repeat: I'm sexy, and I know it.

With practiced ease, Yan Sen took the broom and shooed the chickens outside in minutes. Then he retrieved a hose and began cleaning the coop.

"How often do you clean this?" Qin Li asked, watching him work.

"Once a week," Yan Sen replied.

She gawked. "You're more diligent than I am with housecleaning! I'd love to be one of your chickens."

The moment the words left her mouth, she froze, realizing how they sounded.

Before she could backtrack, a jet of icy water from the hose doused her.

"Ahh!" Qin Li shrieked, soaking wet. She glared at Yan Sen, who wore an utterly innocent expression.

"Sorry," he said, deadpan. "Hand slipped."

"Liar!" she shot back, her hair dripping. "Give me that hose!"

Yan Sen hesitated, then handed it over. Qin Li waited for him to turn his back before flipping the nozzle, drenching him in retaliation.

As expected, he lunged for the hose. They wrestled for control, laughing like children until both were thoroughly soaked.

"I surrender!" Qin Li gasped, raising her hands in mock defeat.

Yan Sen shut off the water and tossed the hose aside. Looking down at his drenched shirt, he frowned, then peeled it off in one smooth motion.

Qin Li's breath hitched as he casually dried his chest and tossed the shirt onto a pile. Bare-chested, he returned to cleaning the coop as if nothing had happened.

She tried to distract herself by chasing chicks in the grass, but her gaze kept drifting back to him. The sunlight glinted off his taut muscles, and the cool breeze had a... noticeable effect on his chest.

Catching her stare, Yan Sen flexed his pecs with a mischievous grin.

Qin Li's mind spun, the same lyrics replaying: Oh, oh girl, look at that body...

A sudden sneeze broke her trance. Blushing furiously, she stammered an excuse about changing clothes and bolted inside.

After her shower, Qin Li felt a pang of hunger. Browsing through her WeChat moments, she stumbled upon a post showcasing a bowl of Saozi Noodles. The vibrant display set her cravings ablaze. Conveniently, she had all the ingredients for the toppings in her fridge, and on a whim, she decided to make the dish herself.

Being a self-proclaimed foodie, Qin Li believed in one motto: if you're going to eat, eat the best. Store-bought noodles were out of the question—too thick, too clumsy. Resolute, she rolled up her sleeves to knead and roll out the dough herself.

Once the dough was rolled and hung up to dry, she moved on to the toppings: diced pork belly, potatoes, garlic sprouts, wood ear mushrooms, carrots, tofu, and shredded egg crepes. Each ingredient was meticulously diced and sautéed over low heat. She then prepared chili oil, adding vinegar to perfect the flavor.

Finally, Qin Li cut the dough into thin, even strips, the hallmark of Saozi Noodles. The dish had its own rules: the soup must be tangy and spicy, the toppings aromatic, and the noodles thin yet chewy. The bowl should contain more broth than noodles—ideally just a small handful of noodles submerged in a sea of vibrant soup. The red oil wasn't merely for aesthetics; it also sealed in the heat, ensuring the dish stayed warm even on the coldest winter days.

Having spent years in Shaanxi, her cooking mentor had passed on the secrets of authentic Saozi Noodles, and Qin Li's version could rival the best.

As she fried the egg crepes, the aroma wafted through the farmhouse, irresistibly summoning everyone to the kitchen.

The assistant director, who fancied himself worldly, puffed out his chest. "I know what this is—it's part of the Manchu-Han Imperial Feast!"

Seeing the confused faces around him, he seized the opportunity to show off. "It's an ancient Chinese royal banquet, serving dishes from both the Manchu and Han traditions—over a hundred courses, enough to fill a table."

His dramatic explanation drew wide-eyed gasps from the crew. "Qin Li, is it true? Can you really make over a hundred dishes with just these ingredients?"

Their innocence made Qin Li laugh. "No, no, it's just soup noodles."

But the assistant director wasn't buying it. "Impossible! You're pulling our leg!"

The crew remained skeptical. In their minds, the intricate slicing, frying, and colorful array of ingredients surely amounted to more than just a humble bowl of noodles.

Faced with their disbelief, Qin Li decided to let the food speak for itself.

The assistant director, eager to immortalize the moment, shouted, "Get the cameras rolling! This is history in the making."

Qin Li sighed inwardly. History? More like a noodle apocalypse.

Returning from his chores, Yan Sen stopped in his tracks as the aroma hit him. Tangy, spicy, and rich with meaty undertones, it curled into his nostrils and awakened his appetite. His mouth watered, and he swallowed discreetly, already picturing the scene in the kitchen.

"This woman and her cooking..." he muttered. Living under the same roof as her would surely pack on the pounds. He'd have to double his work just to keep his physique intact.

Resolute in thought but betrayed by his eager steps, he hurried toward the source of the heavenly scent.

The kitchen was packed. The assistant director, camera crew, and props team were all gathered, each clutching a bowl, slurping noodles like it was the last meal of their lives.

Spotting him, Qin Li asked, "Hungry? Want to try a bowl?"

Before Yan Sen could answer, the assistant director chimed in between mouthfuls, "This is the best noodle dish I've ever had! Even better than the Manchu-Han Imperial Feast!"

Handing over his empty bowl, he pleaded, "One more serving, please!"

Qin Li frowned. "I've told you a dozen times, don't drink all the broth! I'm running low on soup stock!"

Sheepishly rubbing his head, the assistant director grinned. "It's just so good. This is my tenth bowl! Please, just add more noodles this time!"

Qin Li shook her head. "This isn't how Saozi Noodles work. It's all about the toppings—less is more when it comes to noodles."

Turning back to Yan Sen, she asked, "What about you? Want to try?"

He nodded, and she prepared a bowl for him.

The moment she handed it over, the rich aroma of red chili oil, vinegar, and fresh vegetables danced in the air.

Yan Sen twirled a small forkful of noodles and took a bite. A symphony of flavors exploded on his tongue: tangy, spicy, and irresistibly savory. It was a culinary ballet, teasing and thrilling his taste buds.

Before he realized it, the bowl was empty.

Staring at the broth, he asked incredulously, "What did you just feed me?"

Qin Li grinned. "A taste of temptation."

Handing her the empty bowl, he said, "Then tempt me again."

She blinked playfully. "Out of stock."

Yan Sen narrowed his eyes, watching her mischievous smile dance under the kitchen light. The realization hit him—this was payback. He had teased her with his body earlier; now she was seducing him with food.

Fair enough. A taste for a taste.