Serena unlocked her phone with facial recognition, opened the chat page, and checked her messages.
Adrian Shaw: "Did you like the osmanthus sweet potato dumpling soup?"
Serena paused slightly, instinctively glanced around, half-suspecting Adrian had installed surveillance in her house. On second thought, she found it normal.
He was the one who had the food delivered; it was natural he knew what she was eating.
Serena: "It was delicious, thank you."
Serena: "Next time, please don't send it."
Apparently too lazy to type, Adrian sent a voice message: "I don't accept verbal thanks. Serena."
He was force-feeding her like a robber—she wasn't even allowed to refuse, and verbal thanks weren't enough. It was outright coercion.
Serena typed slowly: "Then you'll have to be patient."
Adrian: "Wait for what?"
Serena: "I'll mail you an 800-word written thank-you letter another day."
If verbal gratitude wouldn't do, surely written thanks would suffice.
Adrian couldn't help but laugh.
