Chapter 18: Is Tomorrow's Breakfast Still Western?

"I haven't touched design in a long time. Are you really trusting me with this? Aren't you afraid I'll mess it up and make it unlivable for you?" Flower Lianxi asked, her fingers brushing over the white paper as she finally opened the plans and skimmed through them.

"Flower Lianxi, show your talent. Pour all your likes and taste into it. Treat the house like your child. I believe in you!" Cheng Shaobai raised his cup of cold coffee to her, expressing his complete trust.

After a moment's hesitation, Flower Lianxi smiled, "Thank you for your trust. I'll give it my all!"

Maybe by trying, the dream wouldn't feel so distant. Maybe it could be achieved even now, she thought, quietly cheering herself on in her heart.

Declining Cheng Shaobai's dinner invitation, Flower Lianxi neatly folded the plans into her bag and took a cab home.

Sitting in the car, she quickly planned her schedule in her mind. As long as Kong Chengyi didn't need her to accompany him to various events, she had plenty of time. Using that time, she might actually be able to design Cheng Shaobai's house well.

The car weaved through the bustling streets and soon returned to Xiaoyue Residence.

"Driver, stop here!" She looked out the window and saw they were at a large supermarket. Flower Lianxi quickly asked the driver to stop.

She couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd leisurely pushed a shopping cart around a supermarket. Now, she felt as excited as a child entering for the first time, captivated by the variety of ingredients.

She wanted to buy fresh ingredients to make herself a nice dinner. In her mind, a happy designer should be able to create freely and also be a good homemaker, capable of cooking and winning over a man's taste buds.

Pushing the cart to the food section, Flower Lianxi felt like she needed everything—fresh vegetables, fruits, and pre-packaged meats.

Carefully selecting and planning her meals, she spent nearly an hour shopping. When she left the supermarket, she was carrying two bags full of ingredients.

As the sun set, leaving just a touch of twilight, Flower Lianxi hummed a tune, her eyes following the tall trees, feeling joyful and imagining the pleasantness of a breezy spring day.

After walking for about twenty minutes, the bags started to feel heavy, cutting into her hands. She was eager to set them down at the door and shook her hands before reaching for her keys.

"Madam!" Just as she was about to turn the key, someone called out to her.

She turned and saw Ke Jie getting out of the car, followed by Kong Chengyi.

Kong Chengyi, who never came home this early, was back by evening?

"Hello!" She stood there, stunned, and politely greeted them, noticing that Kong Chengyi seemed unsteady on his feet and tense as if enduring some discomfort.

"Madam, the boss has a fever. He just got a shot at the hospital. Please make sure he takes his medicine later," Ke Jie said, handing her a bag of medicine and picking up her grocery bags, waiting for her to open the door.

Standing beside her, Kong Chengyi blocked most of the remaining sunlight. His cold features were as expressionless as ever, and if you looked closely, he didn't seem sick at all.

Holding the medicine, Flower Lianxi unlocked the door and stepped aside to let Kong Chengyi in first.

"Madam, I put the groceries in the kitchen. Please make sure the boss takes his medicine. His fever reached nearly 40 degrees, and the doctor said it won't go down without it," Ke Jie explained, worried about Kong Chengyi's disregard for his health.

"Okay, I got it," she nodded, assuring him she'd remind Kong Chengyi to take his medicine.

Kong Chengyi went straight to his room, feeling awful. His body was burning, his throat dry and itchy, and without taking off his jacket or tie, he collapsed onto the bed.

After putting away the groceries, Flower Lianxi listened for any sounds from upstairs but heard nothing since he entered his room.

Picturing his tense face, she decided to bring him a glass of warm water and his medicine.

She knocked softly on the door but got no response. Turning the handle, she found him lying on the bed, eyes closed, seemingly asleep.

Setting the water and medicine on the nightstand, she gently tugged his sleeve, "Take your medicine first, then sleep."

Looking at his heavy jacket and neatly tied tie, she felt an urge to remove them so he could rest comfortably.

Rubbing his aching forehead, Kong Chengyi slowly opened his eyes, took a few seconds to sit up, and silently accepted the water and medicine from her, swallowing them down.

Trying to resist the urge to untie his tie, Flower Lianxi twisted her hands and softly asked, "Do you want some porridge?"

Irritated, he tugged at his tie and looked up at her, "Help me take it off."

Her hands froze, caught off guard, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

With a soft "okay," she obediently stood by the bed, leaned over, and deftly untied his tie.

The faint scent of her perfume lingered, making Kong Chengyi's throat burn even more. He suddenly hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

"Hug me for a while, ten thousand," he murmured, pulling her onto the bed and holding her tightly.

His body was burning hot, stopping her from struggling. Her hands clutched the half-untied tie, her eyes wide, unable to process the meaning of "ten thousand."

Pressed tightly against him, she felt his feverish heat, making her shiver as if catching his fever. Her hands, which had been gripping the tie, now unconsciously grabbed his collar, pulling him closer.

"Don't move, let me hold you," he whispered weakly, his lips brushing her ear. "No porridge, cook whatever you planned for tonight." Remembering her grocery bags, he was curious about what she intended to cook.

She tried to pull away, realizing his shirt was soaked.

"Your clothes are wet. You should change."

Taking a deep breath, Kong Chengyi rolled onto his back, closing his eyes to steady his breathing.

Freed, she scrambled off the bed, not even bothering with her slippers, and rushed out of his room.

Smiling, he watched her flee, amused, as he removed his wet shirt and grabbed a robe, heading to the bathroom.

After a shower to wash away the sweat, Kong Chengyi slept deeply, waking around eight, still feeling a bit weak with a slight fever.

Holding the TV remote, Flower Lianxi was engrossed in a cooking show, amazed at the chefs' talent, and took mental notes on their techniques.

Hearing the door open, she turned to see Kong Chengyi standing in a gray robe, seemingly watching her or the TV.

She quickly put down the remote, her cheeks flushing as she remembered the earlier moment.

"I made fish and tofu soup. Should I get you a bowl?" She asked, heading to the kitchen, guessing from his tense expression that he still had a fever.

Clearing his throat, he nodded and sat at the table.

She served him a bowl of clear soup, then brought out the dishes covered with plastic wrap, serving them both rice before sitting down.

Considering his fever, she opted for light dishes, abandoning her plan to make kung pao chicken and steaming meat patties instead.

They ate in silence, the TV's cheerful noise filling the room.

Occasionally, she glanced at him, trying to gauge his reaction to the food, but his expression remained as cold as ever, offering no hints.

Feeling a bit disappointed, she said nothing as she cleaned up and headed to her room.

"The medicine?" His voice, hoarse, interrupted her, "The fever hasn't completely gone."

Surprised he spoke up, she stopped and returned to the kitchen, bringing him water and the medicine.

"Half an hour after eating," he reminded her, not taking the medicine from her hand, his eyes on the TV.

"Championship finals, not watching?"

The cooking show was in its final dessert round, the chefs scrambling for ingredients, the TV alive with excitement.

She wanted to say "no," but seeing the chefs' urgency, she sat down, caught up in the tension.

"Dinner was good, but I don't like meat patties. Change it next time," he commented, flipping through a finance magazine.

Focused on the TV, she turned to him in surprise, finally responding with an "okay," her earlier frustration vanishing, replaced by anticipation for the competition.

She watched the show, and he read his magazine, the TV's noise the only sound in the room.

Half an hour later, the TV announced the winner, coincidentally her favorite chef and dish. Kong Chengyi set down his magazine and reached out to her.

"Hmm?" Still absorbed in the show, she didn't react immediately to his gesture.

Seeing no response, he walked over, took the water and medicine himself, and left for his room without a word.

"Um, is tomorrow's breakfast still Western?" She called after him, unsure if he'd want something else given his condition.

Stopping a short distance away, he turned to meet her gaze, finally saying, "Porridge."

Relieved it wasn't Western, she smiled, nodding eagerly, not caring if he saw.

She actually preferred Chinese cuisine, her love for Western food mostly limited to its rich desserts.

The next morning, she woke early, preparing thick porridge, stir-fried vegetables, and homemade meat buns, slicing fruit while waiting for the buns to steam.

The fever had broken overnight, but Kong Chengyi still felt a bit weak upon waking.

In her cute pink pajamas, hair tied back, she hummed as she worked, enjoying the busy morning, the sunlight making her look even more radiant and fresh.