Chapter 333: Little Girl

To be honest, compared to the crab that would reach out its claw and clamp directly onto his chopsticks, this smashed cucumber tasted far more normal.

Rather, Gou Yu found it hard to imagine how either of these two dishes could possibly be made to taste bad.

It felt just a little bit sour. He wasn’t sure if Zhu Niao had accidentally poured in too much vinegar when mixing the sauce.

But that tiny bit of sourness seemed rather insignificant in the face of the bigger picture.

No doubt Zhu Niao had tasted this dish herself before bringing it out.

And indeed, Zhu Niao had tasted it before bringing it out.

Back then, Little Bird had thought that a qualified cook should always verify whether the dish was up to standard herself, so she’d tried a slice of cucumber.

Unfortunately, she’d tasted it before pouring on the sauce and mixing it.

She hadn’t chosen to test the crab either—partly because she didn’t really know how to eat crab, and partly because she felt like that wasn’t the right thing to do.

A big dish like that should be eaten after the guest arrived.

But unfortunately, it seemed she’d messed up.

Her hands were behind her back, her left hand gripping her right wrist.

She didn’t even dare to meet Gou Yu’s gaze at that moment.

She was afraid there would be disappointment in it.

But Gou Yu was never like that.

He simply walked up with a grin and ruffled Zhu Niao’s head.

“Fill the rice and let’s eat.”

Gou Yu walked over to the rice cooker, and Zhu Niao naturally followed along.

At the very least, when Gou Yu was scooping the rice, she could help carry the bowls to the table—that counted as being useful.

That kind of task was one of the few things she could directly help with in the kitchen.

Then, Gou Yu’s smile froze on his face the moment he opened the rice cooker.

First of all, the rice inside the rice cooker was cold rice that Zhu Niao had heated up.

Such a simple process, and Zhu Niao didn’t think she could mess it up—it was just a matter of pressing two buttons.

But when Gou Yu opened the rice cooker, he didn’t feel any heat rushing to his face.

This was winter, not the blazing heat of summer, and the room wasn’t exactly blasting hot air from the heater either.

With a bit of nervousness, Gou Yu placed his hand over the opening of the rice cooker, feeling for the temperature.

No warmth.

At least there was none of the expected damp heat hitting his hand.

Was the rice cooker broken?

Gou Yu glanced around and noticed that the light on the rice cooker wasn’t even on.

He looked over at the power outlet nearby.

The plug hadn’t even been inserted—there was no electricity flowing at all.

Zhu Niao might have remembered hurriedly stuffing the cold rice into the rice cooker and turning it on, even clearly remembering pressing the right buttons, but she seemed to have completely failed to notice that the thing wasn’t even plugged in.

Zhu Niao, watching from the side, also realized at that moment what she’d overlooked.

She suddenly reached out with both hands and grabbed Gou Yu’s wrist.

“Forget about all that—how about we eat out today?”

Her voice was rushed, her movements flustered, and her eyes were hazy with moisture.

Gou Yu saw it clearly—and what he saw even more clearly was the Band-Aid on Zhu Niao’s left index finger, and the right hand gripping his wrist that trembled and didn’t dare apply any force.

He set down the rice spoon, turned to look at Zhu Niao, his expression serious.

He reached out with both hands as well, but to separate Zhu Niao’s hands, each hand gripping one of her wrists.

The white Band-Aid with cartoon patterns on it was quite eye-catching, like a jarring ornament hanging on an otherwise plain object.

On her other hand, the bruise—bluish-purple against her fair, tender skin—was equally noticeable.

In the time she’d spent waiting for him to come home, that bruise had already mostly formed.

It was as conspicuous as the engagement rings the two of them had exchanged at the engagement banquet.

She’d been hurt trying to make this meal for him.

Just like after they’d exchanged engagement rings, when Zhu Niao learned where the ring had come from, the first inappropriate question she’d asked was—can this thing be returned?

She was thinking of Gou Yu’s well-being. After learning it had cost him all his savings, she’d chosen to try and give up something she herself treasured dearly.

Back then, Gou Yu had spun some nonsense, saying the ring already had names engraved on it, so there was no way to return it or sell it.

Of course, that wasn’t the case. But later, when Zhu Niao took off the ring and indeed saw both their initials, she believed it without hesitation.

At the same time, she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she hadn’t really wanted to sell that treasure, wanting instead to keep it by her side.

Her treasure was the ring, the little moments with Gou Yu, everything left from being together with him.

And Gou Yu was even more straightforward.

His treasure was Zhu Niao.

But now Zhu Niao was hurt, looking all pitiful—and it was for his sake.

“Does it hurt?” he asked softly, as if afraid of even touching Zhu Niao’s wound.

Zhu Niao shook her head, telling her usual lie: “It doesn’t hurt.”

But Gou Yu had already known the answer before asking. He knew Zhu Niao must be in so much pain that tears were about to spill.

So he took a deep breath, turned around, picked up the rice spoon, and filled himself a big bowl of cold rice.

“What are you doing?” Zhu Niao froze. “That’s cold.”

Gou Yu nodded. “I know.”

He also knew this was a meal Zhu Niao had made with her own hands, so he couldn’t just leave it there untouched.

Carrying the full bowl of rice back to the dining table, he picked up his chopsticks.

Then he turned to glance at Zhu Niao following behind him and flashed the same roguish grin he always had.

Next, like a starving tiger pouncing on its prey, he picked up a slice of smashed cucumber and shoveled a big mouthful of cold rice.

He chewed continuously. Cold rice in winter had a considerable amount of firmness.

“Delicious!”

He suddenly shouted out loud.

Then, he reached directly for the half-cooked crab, snapped off a crab leg, dipped the crab meat in the smashed cucumber sauce, and shoved it into his mouth.

Then he shoveled another big mouthful of rice.

“Delicious!”

The dim yellow light shone on the dining table, illuminating the faces of Zhu Niao and Gou Yu.

It shone on the teardrops welling up from the corners of Zhu Niao’s eyes and sliding down her cheeks, reflecting a myriad of colors.

A hazy veil of water clouded her vision, and on the other side of that mist was a stupid dog wolfing down food and loving to yell out loud.

His heartfelt words, one after another, shattered every shred of self-doubt remaining in Zhu Niao’s heart.

She cooked poorly, the results were unsatisfying—even she herself hated it.

But then a stupid dog jumped out.

He said to Zhu Niao: I don’t give a damn what you made, all I can see is that you put your heart into it.

What he savored bite after bite wasn’t the food—it was Zhu Niao’s feelings.

He said she didn’t have to succeed, she didn’t have to care about so many other things, and she didn’t have to be strong—with him, she would always be a princess spoiled to the heavens.

So she threw herself into Gou Yu’s arms, crying out loud, as if pouring out every ounce of her grievances.

She became a little girl who matched her appearance—one who was supposed to be soft and act spoiled.

She sobbed, wiping her tears on Gou Yu’s delivery uniform, revealing to him every vulnerable side she’d always kept hidden.

She said her finger hurt so much when the knife cut it, she said her finger hurt so much when the crab clamped it.

Gou Yu said the knife was bad, said the crab was bad, and blew on her fingers to soothe them.

The world used to be a terrifying, dark place where showing even the slightest weakness meant being destroyed.

The world is now warm—with Gou Yu holding her gently, and the little orange cat rubbing against her feet.

This is her home.