When Zhuang Jingye returned home, Mrs. Ye had already prepared lunch.
Thick hand-pressed noodles, paired with perfectly fried tofu, accompanied by small green vegetables and chili oil, the appetizing aroma filled the air as soon as he stepped into the house.
"I was just craving this, and you made it," Zhuang Jingye was in a buoyant mood, he praised, holding a bowl of noodles Mrs. Ye had brought over, and after taking a big bite, "Delicious, your cooking seems to improve every day."
It wasn't that her cooking skills had improved, it was just that Zhuang Jingye, cheerful as he was, found pleasure in every detail.
A few days ago when he returned from the county town, with a worried look due to the words of the county magistrate, he called the same lunch unpleasant even though it tasted exactly the same.
"Looking at you, it seems the chat with Ning went well?" Mrs. Ye asked, placing her bowl down and seating herself next to Zhuang Jingye.