“Wake up, Xiao Yi.”
In his sleep, Mo Xiangwen heard a familiar voice calling to him.
Heeding the call, Mo Xiangwen slowly opened his bleary eyes. What he saw before him was unfamiliar… no, actually a familiar face.
About an arm’s length away. The owner of a delicate and adorable little face was staring straight at him with her crimson eyes.
“Answering the summon…” Mo Xiangwen opened his mouth and said slowly, “Let me ask you—are you my master?”
Bai Shishi was momentarily taken aback. Had Xiao Yi gotten confused from sleep?
But she quickly caught on and brushed aside the triviality.
Nodding vigorously like a little chick pecking at rice, Bai Shishi said, “Yes, yes! I summoned you. Now, you have to grant my hundred wishes.”
Now it was Mo Xiangwen’s turn to be stunned for a good while before he came back to his senses.
Under Bai Shishi’s expectant gaze, he reached out, pinched her soft cheek, and tugged gently to both sides before kneading it a bit.
“A hundred wishes, huh?” The stiffness on Mo Xiangwen’s face eased as he chuckled lightly. “Is Shishi that greedy?”
“Ow, ow, ow!”
Bai Shishi yelped as she was kneaded. She reached out in retaliation, pinching his cheek with her little hand and tugging it weakly to the sides.
The two locked eyes in a stare-down for several seconds. It ended with Mo Xiangwen’s defeat.
He was the first to release her cheek. Though he hadn’t used much force earlier, he still rubbed it gently with his palm to soothe any potential soreness before pulling his hand back.
Bai Shishi mimicked him, rubbing his face in return. Then she laughed brightly. “What’s wrong with that? What if you agree? Then Xiao Yi would have to grant my hundred wishes.”
Mo Xiangwen chuckled helplessly and shook his head. “I don’t have the power to grant your hundred wishes.”
Bai Shishi pouted regretfully but said nothing.
Seeing her like this, Mo Xiangwen felt both amused and exasperated. He propped himself up on the bed with his palms, slowly sitting upright. Then he gently ruffled her little head.
“But for things within my power, I’d be more than happy to work on them with Shishi,” Mo Xiangwen said softly.
Bai Shishi blinked her pretty big eyes. Suddenly, her face bloomed into a smile like a flower.
“Mm!”
Just then, Su Mengyao’s voice came from outside the room.
“Shishi, why has it taken so long? Is Xiangwen still asleep?”
Caught up in chatting with Xiao Yi, Bai Shishi had nearly forgotten.
Her smile froze on her face. She scrambled off the bed and called back loudly, “He’s awake! We’ll be right there.”
…
When Mo Xiangwen and Bai Shishi arrived in the living room, the other three were already seated. Three dishes and a soup were laid out on the table.
It looked like, aside from the braised chicken rice he’d helped with, Su Mengli had bought more ingredients and made two stir-fries and a soup.
The table wasn’t large, and seating all five of them was a bit cramped.
Once the two had sat down, Su Mengyao grumbled, “Why’d you take so long? The food’s gone cold.” Her gaze shifted to him, her smile carrying a hint of mischief. “Was Xiangwen lazing in bed?”
“No, no…” Bai Shishi hurried to explain. “It was me…”
“Exactly.” Mo Xiangwen cut her off, teasing, “What’s wrong with sleeping in a little? You haven’t done it before?”
“I haven’t,” Su Mengyao declared righteously. “I never sleep in.”
Su Mengli glanced at her upon hearing this but said nothing.
Mo Xiangwen didn’t care whether she believed him or not. It was just a casual retort anyway.
He looked at Nuoya sitting beside him. Her complexion still seemed poor; she clearly hadn’t rested well.
Yan Nuoya noticed his gaze and turned to him with a faint smile.
But he sensed a trace of fatigue in that smile of hers.
“Nuoya, do you feel any better after taking the medicine?” Mo Xiangwen asked quietly.
“Mm…” Yan Nuoya pressed a finger to her cheek, tilting her head slightly as if carefully assessing her condition.
After a moment, she said slowly, “I still don’t have much energy, but it’s a bit better than before.”
She then asked in kind, with concern in her voice, “What about you? How are you feeling?”
“About the same as you.” Mo Xiangwen nodded.
Su Mengli overheard their exchange and felt relieved.
“Since you’re feeling better, head back to your room and rest some more after we eat,” she said warmly.
“Yeah, yeah, let’s eat first.” Mo Xiangwen picked up a piece of braised chicken rice and popped it into his mouth. The rich sauce aroma and tender chicken were delightful. He tried Su Mengli’s stir-fried pork next, and his eyes lit up. He praised her sincerely, “Mengli, your cooking is amazing.”
“Right? Right?” Su Mengyao chimed in proudly, as if she’d been the one complimented. Her tone was jubilant. “My sister’s cooking is top-notch! Even Mom says she’s ready to graduate to pro level.”
“I see. The master produces a great apprentice,” Mo Xiangwen said with a laugh.
Su Mengli grew a bit embarrassed from the praise and cut them off helplessly. “Alright, alright, enough of that. No more buttering me up—eat it while it’s hot.”
Bai Shishi took a bite and praised sincerely, “It’s really delicious.”
Yan Nuoya nodded along, her voice soft but clear. “Mm, it tastes great.”
The successive compliments made Su Mengli’s ears turn slightly red, revealing a rare hint of shyness.
Su Mengyao shot her sister a surprised look. It was the first time she’d seen Su Mengli like this.
But after a bite of chicken, Su Mengyao’s attention returned to the braised chicken rice.
Her eyes widened slightly. “Wow, Sis, Xiangwen—this braised chicken rice you two made together tastes even better than the stuff at restaurants outside! The chicken is so flavorful, and the texture and aroma are perfect.”
Su Mengli waved her hands quickly, deflecting the credit. “It’s mostly Xiangwen’s sauce recipe and instructions.”
“Impressive, Xiangwen!” Su Mengyao turned to Mo Xiangwen curiously. “How come you’ve never mentioned you could cook?”
“Cooking’s such a hassle. I don’t really cook,” Mo Xiangwen denied immediately. “At most, I know a dish or two. It’s not much, and Mengli mostly handled the timing anyway.”
“If it’s such a hassle, why’d you suddenly decide to make braised chicken rice today?” Su Mengyao asked curiously.
“Oh, well, we’re sick, right?” Mo Xiangwen shoveled rice into his mouth as he explained vaguely. “I figured homemade food might help us recover faster. Better than takeout, anyway.”
Su Mengli nodded in agreement. “The school cafeteria’s stuff is manageable, but some outside places overload on spices for flavor. Too much can make you break out in heat rashes.”
Sick people couldn’t eat takeout? No way.
With personalities like hers and Mo Xiangwen’s—who hated hassle to death—they’d at most avoid fried, grilled, or spicy takeout. There was no rule saying sickness meant no takeout at all.
Yan Nuoya opened her mouth as if to say something, but a sudden thought flashed through her mind like lightning.
“What’s wrong?” Noticing her odd expression, Mo Xiangwen asked with concern. “Feeling unwell, or do you not like this flavor?”
Yan Nuoya gave him a complex look, fell silent for a long moment, then shook her head.
“It’s all good. Thanks.”
“That’s a relief. I was worried you might not like it.”
