Chapter 194 Day 26 of Transmigrating into a True and False Young Master Novel

Chapter 194: Day 26 of Transmigrating into a Fake Young Master Novel

Gu Xinou's pupils contracted, all color drained from his face, his lips trembled, but in the end he could only manage two faint words: "Ayi..."

Yan Hui had already circled to the driver's seat, slid into the car smoothly, lowered the window, and flashed a maddeningly smug grin at Gu Xinou, drawling: "Seeya, President Gu~"

Without giving Gu Xinou a chance to react, he rolled up the window smoothly and started the engine.

The sports car let out a low, powerful roar, like a black lightning bolt, swiftly and smoothly merging into traffic and speeding away in a cloud of dust.

Gu Xinou stood dejectedly in place, watching the car vanish from sight. The early summer evening wind blew against him, but he only felt cold.

He seemed... to have really lost for good.

Comments:

"Gu Xinou: OUT!"

"Yan Hui: offer~"

"Gu Xinou: An Yi! Marry me! An Yi: Screw off!"

"Gu Xinou likes An Yi, Gu Xinou sucks! An Yi rejects Gu Xinou, An Yi rocks! (Convinced.jpg)"

"Clear Soup Judge!"

"The plebs hail the Red Soup Judge!"

"Pizza Judge is here! Justice is served!"

"All Hail the Braised Judge!"

"Arise!! (Proud.jpg)"

"......"

An Yi couldn't help laughing.

Yan Hui: ????

He also smiled.

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Yan Hui drove toward a relatively secluded area on the outskirts of the city.

The buildings along the road gradually became sparser, greenery increased, and the air seemed fresher.

Finally, the car slowly stopped in front of a modern-style villa built by the lake.

The villa's design was minimalist, with clean and smooth lines. Large glass curtain walls reflected the sky and lake, looking airy and serene.

In front of the door was a vast, neatly trimmed lawn that extended to the private dock, where a small yacht was quietly moored. Under the afterglow of the setting sun, the lake shimmered like a moving oil painting.

"Where is this?" An Yi got out of the car, looking around at the quiet and beautiful environment, almost free of city noise.

"Just one of my little hideouts."

Yan Hui walked over to stand beside him, both facing the lake dyed gold and red by the sunset. His voice softened with a hint of intimacy: "When work gets too noisy or I want some alone time, I come here for a couple of days. Today I'm borrowing it for Baby's birthday."

He turned his head to look at An Yi's profile softened by the sunset light, saying with a smile: "Hope it's good enough for you."

He paused, then explained: "I know you don't like noisy places, so I thought this would be more to your taste."

An Yi's gaze swept between the lake and the villa, his eyes crinkling slightly, which he took as a yes.

Yan Hui led him into the villa.

Yan Hui came to a small bar beside the open kitchen, pulled out a bar stool: "Sit for a bit, have a drink, rest."

Yan Hui took out a bottle of water from the built-in wine cabinet—the brand An Yi usually drinks—unscrewed it, poured it into an elegant glass, and pushed it in front of An Yi: "Watch me work my magic."

With that, he quickly grabbed a dark gray linen apron from a hook nearby and tied it around himself expertly.

The apron strings tied in a knot behind his waist, clearly outlining his strong, powerful waistline, creating a charmingly contradictory vibe between the apron and his expensive, effortlessly elegant silk shirt.

He walked to the refrigerator and opened it.

Inside, a dazzling array of ingredients was neatly organized by category, and it was clear that they had all been pre-washed and prepped.

An Yi raised an eyebrow slightly in surprise, leaning back against the bar stool: "You're cooking?"

"Tsk, looking down on me?" Yan Hui turned back with a roguish grin: "The lunches I've been sending to your office recently are all made by me personally. You already know how they taste, don't you?"

As he spoke, he began taking out the prepped ingredients from the refrigerator, his movements skillful, like a pro chef.

"For today, I specially learned two new dishes—a fusion of Chinese and Western—guaranteed to be top-notch in flavor, aroma, and presentation. You'll be satisfied."

An Yi watched his back as he busied himself at the counter in his apron. The tall figure surprisingly blended with the kitchen environment, shedding some of his usual wildness and taking on a grounded, homey vibe.

The corners of his mouth lifted into a faint arc. He picked up the glass and took a sip, the cool liquid sliding down his throat.

"I'll be the judge of that," he said softly.

The air gradually filled with the tempting aroma of food, mingled with the rich aroma of red wine.

After a while, Yan Hui came out with a delicate small dish containing a freshly made, rich, deep red sauce.

"Baby, come here and taste this sauce. Give me some professional advice."

He walked up to An Yi, dipped the tip of a clean pair of chopsticks into the warm sauce, and naturally brought it to An Yi's lips, his eyes full of expectation.

An Yi lifted his eyes to look at him, leaned forward slightly, and opened his mouth to take the sauce.

He savored it carefully, his tongue sensing the richness of the red wine, the aroma of spices, and the perfect balance of sweet and sour.

"...Not bad," he said, giving an honest verdict.

Yan Hui's lips curled up, obviously pleased with the evaluation.

Just as he was pulling the chopsticks back, An Yi happened to stand up from the bar stool, as if to fetch something.

In the movement, the chopstick tip, still coated in dark red sauce, accidentally brushed against the tip of An Yi's left index finger dangling at his side, leaving a conspicuous mark.

An Yi raised his hand, glanced at the sticky sauce on his fingertip, and reached for a tissue to wipe it off.

But Yan Hui's eyes locked onto that pale, slender finger now marked with a smear of dark red.

His eyes darkened, and his Adam's apple bobbed almost imperceptibly.

Without a moment's hesitation, before An Yi could react, he leaned in, lowered his head, darted out his warm tongue, and with a quick but deliberately lingering touch, lightly licked An Yi's fingertip.

The slippery, warm, and soft sensation instantly shot from his fingertip throughout An Yi's entire arm, causing the muscles in his arm to tense almost imperceptibly for a moment.

An Yi: "......"

He looked down, watching Yan Hui lower his head to lick his fingertip. Yan Hui's thick lashes cast small shadows under his eyes, his expression focused.

The moment the warm tongue left, An Yi withdrew his hand as if nothing had happened, turned, and walked to the sink in the kitchen area, where he turned on the faucet and thoroughly washed and rinsed his finger with water and hand soap.

Yan Hui straightened up, watching his calm, almost "heartless" demeanor, feeling as if a mischievous and sly cat's paw had scratched his heart with just the right amount of force, leaving it itchy and numb.