Chapter 933: Extra 6 – Zhao Yu 2

Chapter 933: Chapter 932: Extra 6 – Zhao Yu 2

Mu Qiu didn’t feel anything was off. Compared to men who don’t say anything and just wait for her to guess, she definitely preferred Cheng Zhirang’s current, straightforward approach.

Although sometimes, when he earnestly says sweet nothings, it makes her a little embarrassed.

The two of them chatted for a bit, then arm-in-arm, they went to the supermarket to buy groceries.

Zhao Yu complained that she’d been eating fast food for a long time now and suggested going to a Chinese restaurant. But due to work hours, she always missed the chance, and when she finally had some time, she wanted to cook for herself, but cooking for one feels like a hassle and unnecessary.

So most of the time, she just eats some fast food casually and occasionally tries her luck with street snacks. Recently, she’s had enough of hamburgers to create a shadow.

Mu Qiu, hands on her hips, told her boldly that she was in for a treat this time.

“My cooking skills have greatly improved lately! I guarantee the food will be so delicious you’ll cry on the spot.”

Thanks to Cheng Zhirang and her parents keeping a close watch, she’s really cut down on takeout and mostly cooks herself, her culinary skills increasingly show the marks of a master.

Zhao Yu looked at her with skepticism and dragged her to the meat section.

Once they bought everything and returned home, Mu Qiu rolled up the air sleeves on her bare arms, as if she were going to prepare a grand feast.

Yet two minutes later, she was still holding a kitchen knife and searching everywhere for an apron.

“Why isn’t there an apron? Don’t you know cooking without an apron loses half the flavor?”

Zhao Yu: “… What kind of ridiculous chef quirk is that? I rarely cook, so of course, I don’t have an apron. Are you going to cook or not?”

Mu Qiu held back the strange feeling of “it’s like not wearing clothes without an apron” and got to work.

There were just the two of them, so they couldn’t eat much, just planned to make three dishes and one soup, with smaller portions.

One of the dishes was Diguo chicken, which had recently become her new favorite after moving from braised chicken, with some corn pancakes simmering next to it in the pot, resembling the grand meal served to tourists at farm guesthouses, making one’s mouth water.

Zhao Yu, cautiously pinching the last corn pancake to stick it on, sniffed the aroma and swallowed.

“You’ve really grown; you can even make dishes at this level. It’s quite impressive. Looks like we won’t have to order takeout from across the city anymore.”

Speaking of this, Mu Qiu recalled the time she ordered cross-city takeout hotpot and ate until Cheng Zhirang had to take her to the hospital.

Thinking back now, she felt fate was helping her out, even the stomach issues were contributing.

Once the last pancake was on, Mu Qiu covered the pot lid and started stir-frying snow peas in another pan.

Then she asked Zhao Yu, “How many bowls do you have for dining? We only bought a few extra plates and a basin just now, intended to buy bowls and chopsticks.”

Zhao Yu, bringing out the already cooked rice, casually replied, “Three sets, there was a discount when buying all three together, figured even if there’s only one person, if a bowl breaks, there’ll be replacements.”

“That’s good, having two is enough. I was worried we wouldn’t have bowls and chopsticks later.”

When she said two bowls would be enough, she didn’t anticipate that soon the third bowl would find an owner.

As the food was almost ready, Zhao Yu was outside answering a call from her company boss, conversing about things she couldn’t understand in English.

She didn’t make a sound, waited for Zhao Yu to hang up, then winked and asked, “That boss of yours?”

“Don’t give me that sly look; it’s all for work, all for the capitalist to create wealth.”

She shrugged indifferently: “Luckily, you weren’t asked to work overtime at this hour. Didn’t you say you often work overtime before?”

“That’s the state of white-collar workers here. And let me tell you, that boss of mine also lives in this building, occasionally asking for documents urgently, always making me run errands.”

Mu Qiu’s action of serving food paused: “Also lives here?”

“Could this be love?!”

Zhao Yu: “… Living in the same building is love, then my love is overwhelming; this whole building is my love.”

“But just the two of you, both came from the same place, working at the same company, speaking the same language and discussing the same topics, it’s so fated, you’re just a door away from each other!”

“Your imagination is rich. But facing that face in the office, all I feel is the urge to wither, absolutely no other strong feelings, don’t misunderstand. My love for our boss is purely that of a worker for a capitalist.”

“Oh—”

And not long afterward, the worker and the capitalist met at her doorstep.

Zhao Yu never expected that this document would be delivered by the boss himself to her door. Although they lived in the same building, taking the elevator would still take two minutes. Those two minutes, the boss could earn a lot more money, she never dared to wish he would waste those two minutes on her.

Yet, it happened that he was just returning home from the company and happened to bring it back for her.

Even more coincidentally, when she opened the door, the irresistible aroma of the food inside rushed out, causing the boss to waste two minutes and staying for a third, stupefied at her doorstep.

There’s even more coincidence.

Mu Qiu subtly observed the elite man at the door who looked like he was rarely talking, seeing him seemingly surprised, he glanced at the dishes in the room, and courteously asked:

“So you’re Zhao Yu’s boss, right? Hello, I’m Zhao Yu’s friend, have you eaten, boss? Would you like to come in and have a bite?”

Then he agreed.

He agreed…

Zhao Yu stood at the doorway, hand on the door, holding that document bag with the other, staring straight as he walked to the dining table and sat down.

“… President Song, uh…”

Song Ce nodded: “It’s personal time now, you don’t need to call me President Song.”

Zhao Yu: …Then should I call you “nice one, Song Ce”?

She numbly closed the door, walked over, and sat down; Mu Qiu had already washed the last set of bowls and chopsticks and placed them in front of Song Ce.

“Mr. Song, feel free to eat, this Diguo chicken is good, Zhao Yu made it herself, you can try it. Having too much foreign fast food, you might miss domestic Chinese food.”

Zhao Yu looked at her incredulously, her eyes saying: I just got the last pancake on! How does that earn naming rights?!

Mu Qiu gave her a profound smile: “What are you staring for, eat! Didn’t you say you especially miss the soup I make? Mr. Song, if you haven’t had dinner yet since it’s late, you can start with some soup, it’s better for the stomach. Not sure if the folks in your line of work have irregular meals, Zhao Yu has some stomach issues. Please, eat as you like.”

Zhao Yu once again “Max speechless face possessed.”

Her stomach is actually quite healthy!

Song Ce glanced at Zhao Yu, and under Mu Qiu’s courteous persuasion, he helped himself to some soup, then picked up some Diguo chicken.

“Not bad skills.”

His voice was magnetic, just a bit rigid, speaking as though he was commending an employee for a well-done proposal.

Anyway, that’s how Mu Qiu felt hearing it.

But to Zhao Yu, the capitalist’s voice was already very calm and ordinary.

Meeting his gaze, Zhao Yu could only stiffly accept the compliment: “Thank you for the praise, President Song… Have more.”