Su Muyao sat on the chair next to her, resting her chin on her hand, watching Wen Nanxi through the candlelight.
She felt that he was like an orchid in the mountains, noble and pure, gentle and bright, like poetry and painting, so beautiful and out of place with everything here.
Even when cooking, his every move was full of grace.
It reminded her of the time in the Beiluo Tribe.
Back then, Wen Nanxi would also cook for her and take care of her attentively.
Soon, Wen Nanxi finished the noodles, brought it to Su Muyao, and handed her chopsticks and a spoon.
"Try it and see how it tastes?"
Wen Nanxi's cooking skills were learned from Su Muyao.
He constantly adjusted according to her taste, striving to make food that suited her palate.
Su Muyao smelled the aroma of the noodles and felt very hungry.
She took a bite with her chopsticks, nodded, and said, "Delicious, very chewy."
The texture was also very good, greatly whetting her appetite.
"Aren't you eating?"
