My Boss Always Flirts With Me - Chapter 43
Chapter 43: Stomach-Warming
Leaving aside the element of liking him, if he were to just evaluate this marriage, Fang Ci was quite satisfied. He was willing to give Teacher He a perfect score.
Although He Chi was still very busy, he came to work later and left earlier than usual to take better care of him. Fang Ci felt like he was being completely pampered.
Fang Ci was initially afraid of infecting him with his cold and suggested they sleep in separate rooms, but Teacher He rejected the idea.
“No need. My immunity is strong,” he said.
Fang Ci couldn’t argue with him and just enjoyed his care, hoping to get better as soon as possible.
However, his rest time was limited. According to the team’s progress, he had to finish the speech draft in the next two days. Taking advantage of He Chi not being home, he quickly went into the study to type.
Fang Ci didn’t have much experience with public speaking, and working on it by himself was not a good idea. So he found He Chi’s old speech videos and watched them a few times. There were five clear versions available online. The earliest one was a speech He Chi gave in China after graduating from college. The later ones were from international conferences.
There were text versions of all these speeches, but he still preferred watching the videos. All the time they didn’t know each other was captured in these videos. For example, at around 23 or 24 years old, Teacher He didn’t wear a tie and wore the simplest black suit. Later, as the company grew, he started wearing a tie and a tie clip.
He went from being full of youthful ambition to being calm and reserved. His demeanor became more and more composed, and his confidence turned into an aura. The applause from the audience also grew louder.
He was wrapped in a blanket, resting his chin on his hand, completely engrossed.
Ah, Teacher He is so handsome.
He wondered what he would look like on stage and if he would have an aura like Teacher He’s.
Hopefully, it won’t be too bad.
He watched for more than three hours before starting to write. He would delete and rewrite, and when he couldn’t think of anything, he would replay He Chi’s speech for inspiration. The product launch was going to be long, and he had to prepare at least an hour’s worth of a speech. He procrastinated until after 6 p.m. and finally managed to get the first draft done.
Looking at the time, He Chi would be back soon. He checked it twice, took his laptop, and went back to the bedroom. He also took his temperature. Thankfully, his fever had gone down to 37 degrees Celsius, or else he would have a hard time explaining himself.
He should be given an “Employee of the Year” award by Teacher He for secretly working while he was sick.
He submitted the first draft, and He Chi entered the room.
“Welcome back, Teacher He,” he said. He had already put his phone back in the drawer. He hugged the blanket and smiled at the approaching He Chi.
The first thing He Chi did when he came back was touch his forehead. Feeling that his symptoms were much lighter, he asked, “What do you want to eat tonight?”
Fang Ci thought for a moment and said, “I want to have preserved egg and lean meat congee.”
This was a difficult request for He Chi. His usual menu didn’t include this.
Fang Ci knew that He Chi couldn’t cook complicated dishes, especially congee, which required time and constant adjustment of the heat. So he suggested, “Let’s order takeout.”
He Chi was silent for a moment and then asked, “Do you know how to make it?”
Fang Ci nodded.
He Chi said, “You tell me, and I’ll make it.”
Fang Ci’s eyes widened. “Really?”
He Chi nodded, and Fang Ci immediately became happy.
He got up from the bed and placed an order for preserved eggs.
While waiting, he saw He Chi take off his suit and change into his loungewear. His smooth and beautiful muscles were a fleeting sight again. Fang Ci quickly glanced at them, not daring to look for too long, and ran to the kitchen to wash the rice.
Everything was in the fridge except for the preserved eggs. Fang Ci put the rice into a clay pot, and He Chi took care of the rest.
“I’m almost completely better. I can actually do it myself.”
He Chi insisted, “I’ll do it.”
Alright. Fang Ci retreated to the table and sat down, watching He Chi put on an apron, wash and chop the scallions, and slice the ginger.
“Put the ginger slices in the pot first. Marinate the pork loin for 10 minutes. When the water comes to a boil, turn down the heat and cook for 20 minutes.” The order of the ingredients was very important, and the heat was also very important. He Chi followed Fang Ci’s instructions meticulously, as if he were working.
The smell of congee quickly filled the kitchen, accompanied by the bubbling sound. He Chi stirred it with a spoon every few minutes to prevent it from sticking to the bottom. For a long time in between, the two of them didn’t talk. Perhaps it was too quiet. He looked back at Fang Ci.
He saw Fang Ci obediently sitting in the chair, his head tilted as he watched him.
Yes, he was watching him, not the pot.
“What are you looking at?”
Fang Ci sighed and said with emotion, “Teacher He, you’re like my dad.”
He Chi: “?”
Fang Ci realized what he had just said was wrong. He waved his hand and explained, “It reminded me of my childhood.”
“Childhood?”
Fang Ci: “Yeah. When I was little, my dad did most of the cooking. Every time I came home from school, my dad would be at the stove, and my mom, who couldn’t sit still, would sit behind him and give him directions. It annoyed my dad a lot. They hadn’t been married for long back then. My dad would get so frustrated that he would pinch my mom’s nose. Hahaha, it was so funny.”
He Chi saw him laughing happily and paused with the spoon in his hand.
Fang Ci asked, “What about you, Teacher He? Does it annoy you when I give you directions?”
He Chi said, “No.” Although he was used to being the one in charge and no one dared to “direct” him in his work and life, Fang Ci was an exception. He didn’t feel that there was anything wrong with it.
“This isn’t really giving directions,” he said.
Fang Ci thought for a moment. “Then what is it?”
He Chi: “Providing effective suggestions.”
Fang Ci: “…” Okay.
The preserved eggs that were delivered from the supermarket arrived. Fang Ci peeled them and set them aside. He Chi chopped them and put them into the pot.
Fang Ci wanted to emphasize the order of the ingredients. He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Teacher He, how did you know to put the preserved eggs in now?”
He Chi’s stirring hand didn’t stop. “I guessed.”
Fang Ci understood and nodded. He then said, “Add the pork loin in 10 minutes, and then you can add salt and chicken powder.”
He Chi: “Okay.”
Seeing him seriously following his instructions, Fang Ci felt a sense of satisfaction. He’s so obedient, so obedient. He loves how obedient Teacher He is.
“…Just two spoons of salt for two people, right? Add one spoon of chicken powder and sesame oil. Do we need to add any vegetables? We still have some lettuce, right?”
After a while, Fang Ci seemed to be encouraged and spoke even more enthusiastically. He didn’t stop talking. He babbled on for a long time and even went to the fridge to check. After hesitating for a second, he took out the lettuce.
“Give it to me,” He Chi said, reaching out.
Fang Ci didn’t let go. “I’ll chop it.”
He Chi looked at him intently. His hand suddenly changed direction and he poked his nose.
Fang Ci was stunned.
“Listen to me. I’ll do it.”
Fang Ci hadn’t recovered from the shock yet. The lettuce was already in the sink.
The congee in the pot was bubbling even more.
Fang Ci’s face was flushed from the steam. He rubbed his nose and muttered, “He still thinks I talk too much.”
A hint of a smile flashed in He Chi’s eyes. “I don’t. You can talk more.”
Fang Ci blinked and looked at him. He heard him say, “Talking more means you’re getting better.”
Fang Ci smiled and said, “Oh.”
He Chi turned off the stove. The congee was served into bowls and moved to the table. He said to him, “Want to try it?”
Fang Ci hadn’t had preserved egg and lean meat congee in a long time, and it was made by He Chi. He started eating before the congee had cooled down, scalding his lips and tongue. He Chi frowned as he watched.
“Drink it slowly,” he said.
Fang Ci stopped and blew on it.
But before he could lift his spoon, a hand appeared in front of him. He turned his head and saw that Teacher He had offered him his spoon.
“Open your mouth.”
Fang Ci was stunned. He mechanically opened his mouth, and the temperature of the congee on the spoon was just right.
Oh my goodness, this…
Fang Ci was a little surprised, and his face was a little red. He asked, “Why are you… feeding me?”
He Chi: “You don’t like it?”
Fang Ci thought, How could I not? My heart is even racing.
“I like it,” he answered honestly.
He couldn’t help but say, “I just didn’t expect it.” He felt that it wasn’t something Teacher He would do. In his life, Teacher He only did things that were repeatable and that he had experience with.
Sure enough, the next moment, He Chi said, “Before, Qiuqiu used to eat his cat food too fast and would often choke, so I fed him for a while.”
Fang Ci: “…” I knew it!
He took a few resentful bites and then asked, “You gave me the congee. What are you going to eat?”
He Chi: “Both bowls are for you.”
The bowls weren’t big, so Fang Ci could finish them, but he was a little full afterward. He left some in the pot for breakfast.
He Chi had barely eaten anything. His appetite wasn’t big at night.
Fang Ci took a long time to digest before going to bed.
He Chi cleaned up the kitchen and temporarily sat in the living room for a conference call. The screen lit up and went dark, finally stopping on a recipe. He glanced at it and exited.
In the bedroom, Fang Ci waited for him to come in before dimming the light. He Chi asked, “Did you take your temperature again?”
Fang Ci: “36.5 degrees.” His fever was completely gone.
He Chi: “That’s good.”
After covering him with the blanket, He Chi also got into bed. Before falling asleep, Fang Ci chose a comfortable position in his arms. Just as he was about to close his eyes, Teacher He’s voice came from above his head. He asked, “Did it increase today?”
“What?”
He Chi: “The percentage.”
Fang Ci looked up at him blankly.
He Chi rubbed his hair. After a while, he heard him reply, “Yes.”
He Chi felt relieved. “Good. Go to sleep.”
Fang Ci nestled back into his arms. He Chi turned off the light.
The recipe for preserved egg and lean meat congee was easy to learn, but Fang Ci’s request was more important.