Zhulan felt a pang of sympathy, "Then you should rest some more days. What would you like to eat? I'll personally—never mind, I'll have the kitchen make it for you."
Zhulan, who had never lit up her cooking skills, was genuinely stumped; she could cook at best, her dishes were edible yet not delicious, and her culinary abilities hadn't grown much over the years.
This wasn't because the Zhou family had become official and Zhulan didn't lift a finger. She would do something when she got bored at times.
Zhou Shuren sighed in relief. His taste buds had become spoiled; he really didn't want to eat his wife's cooking or her soups. Don't talk about true love swallowing anything no matter how unpleasant—the truth was, he just didn't want to eat it.
Zhulan pinched Zhou Shuren's face, "You're making it too obvious."
{" "}Zhou Shuren complained pitifully, "I'm a patient."