The reason it’s called a misunderstanding is because it only lasts for a fleeting moment. Once Xia Xinghe refocused, that feeling had already disappeared without a trace.
It made sense—Bamboo was Bai Qingzhou’s dog. Why would the owner be jealous of his own pet? Especially someone like Bai Qingzhou, who always seemed indifferent to everything.
Xia Xinghe shook off the strange thought. But in this dazed and confused state, despite the adaptation deal not being finalized yet, he had somehow agreed to treat Bai Qingzhou to a meal.
The next step was to decide on a time and place.
Not an easy task. Bai Qingzhou was not only busy but also incredibly picky. Over the next few days, Xia Xinghe scoured all the restaurant apps and picked out dozens of places, but Bai Qingzhou was never satisfied. Either the food was too greasy, or the environment wasn’t clean enough. And he replied to WeChat messages super slowly, as if he were intentionally stringing Xia Xinghe along.
Frustrated, Xia Xinghe picked a few more restaurants. When Bai Qingzhou still wasn’t satisfied, he snapped and said:
[Might as well let me cook for you.]
Moments later, Bai Qingzhou replied.
[Bai: That’ll do.]
[Little Bamboo: ?]
[Bai: Clear broth pork ribs, crab roe tofu, cheesy corn, brown sugar rice cakes.]
Two savory, two sweet—surprisingly balanced.
[Little Bamboo: . ]
So shameless.
Xia Xinghe had only said it in frustration—he hadn’t actually intended to cook. Cooking for your ex-boyfriend in broad daylight? How weird was that?
And yet, somehow, three days later on the weekend, he found himself dragging big bags of groceries from the supermarket into Bai Qingzhou’s kitchen.
It wasn’t until he had blanched the ribs that he suddenly realized—
“Why the hell am I cooking for him?”
But since he was already this far in, he couldn’t just bail halfway. Xia Xinghe weighed the pros and cons and sighed.
Forget it. It’s just cooking. Not like he hadn’t done it before.
Resigned, he tossed the parboiled ribs into the pot to simmer and began preparing the vegetables.
Bai Qingzhou didn’t make things too difficult for him. He even consciously washed his hands and started helping cut vegetables.
In the kitchen, the sound of running water echoed, and the steady chop-chop of the knife was especially clear.
Xia Xinghe turned his head to glance at Bai Qingzhou beside him. He saw him looking down calmly, holding the knife in his right hand and pressing on the tofu with his left, slicing it with practiced ease. Perfectly even tofu cubes—each one a centimeter square—appeared beneath the blade, neat and beautiful.
The kitchen window was right above the counter. Sunlight poured through, leaving a bright path, its golden glow falling across Bai Qingzhou’s long, slender fingers. For a moment, Xia Xinghe was dazed, as if he’d returned to four years ago.
Back when they had lived together, they used to cook like this.
Though Xia Xinghe had some talent for cooking, he didn’t particularly enjoy the tedious and boring task. He hated the greasy fumes of the kitchen, so he always pestered Bai Qingzhou to help him.
Bai Qingzhou wasn’t good at cooking with heat, but after years of handling scalpels, he was a master at cutting vegetables. Eventually, he developed a habit of quietly helping Xia Xinghe in the kitchen.
The two of them would stand side by side in the small kitchen, the air filled with the scent of food, the crisp sound of chopping mixed with running water, the dishes in the pot bubbling with tiny blips—real, warm domestic life.
And so, making dinner together became Xia Xinghe’s favorite time of day.
Now, even though everything had changed—the kitchen wasn’t the same as before—when the familiar person stood in that familiar position, it still instantly pulled memories from the deepest part of his heart.
Time seemed to freeze at that moment. Xia Xinghe stared blankly at Bai Qingzhou as water rushed from the faucet. Bai Qingzhou lifted his gaze and looked over, seeing him spacing out, and calmly frowned. “Are you done washing?”
Xia Xinghe snapped back to reality, realizing he had absentmindedly picked off a few kernels from the corn cob in his hands.
“All done,” he said quickly, giving the corn to him. “Here, it’s washed.”
“Why are you spacing out?”
Bai Qingzhou gave him a glance as he accepted the corn. His tone was a little annoyed, but there was a fleeting softness in his eyes. “Hurry up.”
It was both fleeting and real, and it made Xia Xinghe’s heart skip a beat.
After the vegetables were prepped, Xia Xinghe started cooking. When the wet tofu hit the hot pan, oil splattered. Bai Qingzhou frowned slightly and moved behind Xia Xinghe to turn on the range hood.
The switch for the hood was above their heads, so Bai Qingzhou’s arm passed beside Xia Xinghe’s temple—giving the illusion of an embrace.
The atmosphere suddenly became too ambiguous. This would have been a completely normal action for them in the past, but now, it felt like it was crossing a line.
Xia Xinghe’s hand holding the spatula stiffened slightly, but strangely, he didn’t want to push him away. Bai Qingzhou, too, seemed possessed, his fingers lingering near the button without pressing it.
Until—the faint smell of burning filled the air. Xia Xinghe suddenly snapped back to his senses.
“Oh no, oh no! It’s burning!”
He rushed to add more water while Bai Qingzhou quickly turned on the hood to clear the smell.
Fortunately, tofu contains a lot of water, so it hadn’t burned too badly. Xia Xinghe scooped out the burnt bits, and the rest of the dish still turned out fine.
After that little mishap, Xia Xinghe didn’t dare lose focus again. He carefully finished the other two dishes, the ribs were nearly done stewing, and soon hot dishes were placed on the table—meat and veggies, sweet and savory, full of color, aroma, and flavor.
Sitting across from each other at the dining table, Xia Xinghe nervously looked at Bai Qingzhou and asked, “Try it—how does it taste?”
Bai Qingzhou picked up a rib and tasted it. His expression remained calm as he said, “Not bad.” Then, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
He said, “It’s a familiar taste.”
Xia Xinghe froze for a moment, then smiled too.
The sadness and wounds of the past were still there, but in that moment, they seemed to melt away just a little.
He ladled a bowl of rib soup for Bai Qingzhou. “I remember you like this.”
Bai Qingzhou lowered his eyes and accepted it. When he reached out, his fingertips brushed lightly against the back of Xia Xinghe’s hand.
“…Thanks.”
Bai Qingzhou quietly took the bowl and sipped. The savory soup was rich but not greasy. The clear broth shimmered in the bowl, stirring faint ripples in both the soup and his heart.
So he still remembered his taste.
Bai Qingzhou looked up at Xia Xinghe. His expression unknowingly softened as he gazed at him, though Xia Xinghe didn’t notice.
Suddenly, a notification sound chimed from Xia Xinghe’s phone. He glanced at it, then quickly broke into a knowing smile. He lowered his head, fingers tapping rapidly across the screen, lips curled into a grin, the small dimple at his cheek faintly visible.
He looked genuinely happy.
Bai Qingzhou frowned slightly and asked, “What are you doing?”
“My editor just messaged me. I’m chatting with her.”
Xia Xinghe replied casually, but the smile on his face remained bright.
The taste of the rib soup still lingered on Bai Qingzhou’s tongue, but it didn’t seem quite as flavorful anymore. He asked, “Is it the same one you had dinner with before?”
Xia Xinghe was still looking down at his phone and didn’t react for a couple of seconds. Then, realizing Bai Qingzhou was talking to him, he casually responded, “Yeah, that’s her. She’s a cute little thing.”
The pleasant taste in Bai Qingzhou’s mouth suddenly turned sour. Without thinking, he blurted out:
“Is she just your editor?”