The Taste of Love Starts in the Kitchen (GL) - Chapter 19

Qian Qian and Song Baili walked into a shopping plaza and took the elevator to the top floor. It was a busy time—lots of people were out shopping or looking for food. The elevator stopped at almost every floor, and before long, it was packed.

Qian Qian frowned and shrank into a corner of the elevator. She noticed the man next to Song Baili kept sneaking glances at her out of the corner of his eye. Each time someone squeezed into the elevator, the man would inch closer toward Song Baili.

A musky male scent filled the air. Song Baili frowned and held her breath repeatedly. Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm from behind, then another hand rested on her waist. Before she could react, she was forcefully turned to face the elevator wall.

The body pressed against her was soft and fragrant. Song Baili felt her heart jolt, her eyes lowered, and her lashes trembled slightly. Her hands hung stiffly at her sides, afraid to move.

The man, now abruptly distanced, turned to look but was met with a sharp, icy glare—an unmistakable warning in Qian Qian’s eyes. His pupils shrank in fear. He quickly looked away, pretending to watch the video ad on the screen.

After staring down the creep for a moment, Qian Qian turned her gaze back. Her expression shifted slightly as she hurriedly removed her hand from Song Baili’s waist. Her chest tightened, breath catching for a few seconds. She glanced up again, secretly stealing a look at the woman’s face so close to hers, and a faint blush spread across her ears.

Her heart pounded like waves crashing against rocks, loud and uncontrollable. A secret she had buried deep inside stirred restlessly, threatening to spill out through her eyes.

Her gaze accidentally fell on Song Baili’s elegant collarbone, and a strange flutter spread through her. Qian Qian quickly lowered her eyes to hide the panic that flashed across them. The woman’s sweet scent lingered in the air, making her cheeks flush and her head spin.

She wished the moment would last, but not because of a broken elevator. Instead, it felt like savoring a delicate dessert—something to enjoy slowly.

The elevator finally reached the top floor. The crowd spilled out one by one. Qian Qian tucked her hair behind her ear, lifted her lashes, and quickly glanced at Song Baili before softly saying, “We’re here.”

Snapped out of her thoughts, Song Baili turned—only to meet the man’s wandering eyes again. She frowned, reached back, grabbed Qian Qian’s arm, and led her out of the elevator.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the shop. Qian Qian, however, felt like she had just finished a long sprint. Her heart was racing, her palms were sweaty, and it felt like she was walking on clouds—light and floaty.

The milk tea shop owner had soft features, a sharp nose, and always wore a gentle smile. Female customers would gaze at him dreamily and blush slightly when taking their drinks from his hands.

Seeing Qian Qian lost in a daze too, Song Baili looked at the owner, then back at Qian Qian with a slightly annoyed expression. She stepped aside, took a few sips of her drink, and paused with the straw still in her mouth.

This time, the milk tea wasn’t sweet—it even tasted… a little sour?

Amid the bustling plaza, a phone rang abruptly. Song Baili tilted her head slightly and happened to catch a glimpse of the caller ID. A trace of displeasure flickered in her eyes, and she quickly masked it with a calm expression.

“I’m still out… tonight might not work. I can’t talk right now—I’ll call you once I’m home…”

Listening to that, Song Baili instinctively sucked on the straw again. The cold drink no longer felt refreshing, and the tea’s fragrance didn’t lift her mood either. She put the drink back in its bag and thought to herself, I’m never getting this flavor again.

“The milk tea’s done. Let’s head home,” Qian Qian said, slipping her phone into her bag. She leaned forward, gently linking her arm with Song Baili’s, and whispered near her ear.

“No rush. Isn’t there a trendy pastry place here? Let’s try it.”

A warm breath brushed past Song Baili’s ear. She held her breath, lowering her eyes. Her long lashes cast shadows, hiding the complicated emotions in her gaze.

“I’m not hungry. You should go with your boyfriend,” she replied quietly.

Qian Qian’s eyes dimmed a little. She fell silent, staring at Song Baili’s side profile. Her chest ached slightly, like something was being squeezed.

Song Baili felt her phone vibrating in her bag. She used it as an excuse to pull her arm away and turn to take the call.

Qian Qian tiptoed forward, standing behind her. She lowered her head, nibbling on a finger while straining her ears to listen.

“I’ll be home a bit late. Don’t wait up…”

“I’m with a female coworker. We didn’t eat together—just got some milk tea.”

Qian Qian stirred the tapioca pearls in her drink absentmindedly, glancing sideways at Song Baili still on the phone. She let out a long sigh, feeling a bit helpless.

“My sister is nearby. I have to go.”

Qian Qian muttered under her breath, What is this, a rideshare app? Why is she always “nearby”?

She looked up, the corners of her lips curling into a mocking smile. Her tone turned sarcastic as she said, “Your sister takes such good care of you. Is she your substitute boyfriend?”

Mentioning her boyfriend made Song Baili feel an overwhelming heaviness in her chest.

She took a deep breath, her fingers intertwining. A bitter smile forced itself onto her lips as she softly replied, “Enough said. Take care on your way home. See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Qian Qian echoed.

She watched Song Baili walk away, dazed for a few seconds. Then she slowly made her way to the parking lot, her shoulders drooping, her steps sluggish with exhaustion.

Back in the car, she closed her eyes. The elevator moment replayed in her mind like a movie, again and again. She crossed her arms over her chest. The warmth still lingering on her palms felt like Song Baili’s body heat, slowly melting her heart.

The Next Day

After getting home, Qian Qian tossed her bag onto the couch and happily dragged a chair to sit by the kitchen island. Resting her chin on both hands, she stared wide-eyed at the person in the kitchen, not blinking once.

Song Baili tied on an apron, pinned her long hair up with a shark clip, and glanced at Qian Qian from the corner of her eye while washing her hands. A faint smile tugged at her lips without her realizing it.

She took out all the ingredients from the freezer and began washing the vegetables and meat. Her hands moved with practiced ease, every chop and slice smooth and efficient—like she could do it with her eyes closed.

The clash of knife and cutting board, the bubbling of water and sizzling of oil—it all came together in perfect rhythm. Song Baili’s bright eyes sparkled. Her expression was cool and focused. A quick flip of the pan—so effortlessly graceful—it struck straight at Qian Qian’s heart.

Qian Qian’s heart skipped a beat. She held her breath and thought, A woman focused on her work is the most beautiful thing.

She used to sit in Li Shao’s kitchen watching him cook too, in the same position, but the feeling was totally different.

Like flowing water, Song Baili’s movements were smooth and natural. In just a few minutes, she had whipped up a dish of bacon and garlic spaghetti. Qian Qian leaned in slightly as the smell hit her.

Smoky bacon, roasted garlic, and creamy cheese, mixed with fresh scallions and cilantro—the color, aroma, and plating were mouthwatering.

Qian Qian’s eyes lit up. Her throat moved as she swallowed instinctively. She eagerly picked up a fork, twirled a bite of noodles, and popped it into her mouth. After a few chews, her brows lifted in surprise, and she nodded repeatedly.

The flavor was just right—not overly rich like most restaurant dishes. It felt like the taste was made just for her tongue.

She couldn’t help but take a few more bites, chewing slowly with her eyes closed. When she opened them, she was still biting the fork, thoughtful. Then she looked up suddenly, her eyes sparkling with a smile on her lips.

“It’s different from what they sell in stores or restaurants. The noodles are softer, and there’s a faint smoky aftertaste.”

“You’re right,” Song Baili replied. “I used homemade smoked garlic sauce. Western pasta is usually al dente, but for many Asians, that firm bite isn’t always preferred.”

“Then why hasn’t Chef Shengfan ever thought of softening the noodles a bit?”

Shengfan was the only professionally trained chef in their restaurant. He believed his skills were top-tier—like a full cup of water that couldn’t take in anything else.

Baili rested her chin on one hand, the other draped lazily over her arm. She was quiet for a moment before lifting her lashes and saying slowly:

“He cooks the way professionals are trained to. But I look at who I’m cooking for.”

“Adjusting to your audience, whether in cooking or in life—that’s a kind of wisdom.”

She pressed her lips into a small smile, her expression calm as ever. She looked like an elegant Baili blooming quietly in the valley—naturally graceful, effortlessly charming.

Qian Qian’s heart skipped slightly, her eyes widened in a daze.

“Still got room in that stomach of yours?”

Baili’s eyes landed on Qian Qian’s arm, her shirt sleeves rolled up just a bit—fair and slender like scallion stalks. Her gaze returned to its usual cool calm as she moved to pack up the leftover ingredients.

“I can always eat more of your cooking, Bai-jie.”

Baili paused at that, lifting her eyes to glance at Qian Qian’s flat stomach. She shook her head with a soft chuckle, thinking to herself—looks really can be deceiving.

“Wouldn’t have guessed you could eat this much.”

Qian Qian slurped up a mouthful of noodles, her cheeks puffed like a chipmunk. She laughed and teased herself:

“You can thank my dad for that. When he was developing dishes, we had to eat everything, good or bad, so nothing went to waste. Eventually, I got used to eating a lot.”

She spoke like it was a funny memory, but Baili could hear the bitterness behind it.

The crisp sounds of chopping mixed with the running water from the sink—like a light, cheerful melody. Baili looked focused, but her mind was buzzing with thoughts.

From time to time, she looked up and met a pair of clear eyes—like stars dropped into a night sky, twinkling bright. Baili found herself smiling again, her eyes softening with a spark of emotion.

She was briefly stunned. She had always been drawn to beautiful things—breathtaking landscapes, artistic cities, carefully plated dishes, and now…

This stunning woman right in front of her, with features like a painting?

A sudden wave of nervousness hit her. Her cheeks warmed, her long black lashes lowered, unsure of where to rest her gaze. She quickly washed her hands and turned to grab the glass salt shaker—only to hesitate.

Did I already add salt?

Qian Qian had her hands folded under her chin, her gentle gaze following Baili’s every move. Every now and then, their eyes met, and it felt like a drop of water hit her heart—rippling softly.

“Pan-seared salmon with… with…”

Baili rubbed the back of her neck, tilting her head slightly. She couldn’t recall the name of the dish.

“You mean the contest entry, right? I know—it had a boring name that’s hard to remember.”

Baili pressed her lips together, a quiet smile forming on her face. She pushed the plate toward Qian Qian and said:

“Please enjoy.”

Looking at the dish, Qian Qian’s eyes immediately curved into crescent moons. She leaned forward to take in the aroma, then grabbed her phone and snapped a few quick photos from different angles.

Just a small change to the plating made it look so fancy. The dish was so beautiful, she almost couldn’t bear to ruin it. She fiddled with the knife and fork for a moment before cutting off a small piece of the fish and popping it into her mouth—her eyes widened instantly.

“It’s so good! Way better than my dad’s.”

A soft smile appeared on Baili’s lips, the corners of her eyes lifting. Her gaze sparkled like a clear lake under a blue sky—calm on the surface, but deep and mysterious underneath.

The deeper the water, the more still it looked. Qian Qian quietly pondered—this woman really wasn’t easy to read.

“If the dishes here had their own unique flavors, more customers would keep coming back.”

“And how do we create that uniqueness?”

Even though the AC was on, the open flames and hot oil made the kitchen feel like a giant steamer. Sweat gathered at Baili’s temples, her cheeks flushed pink. She dabbed her face gently with a tissue, half-lowered her eyes, and then looked up again.

“I’ll have to think about it before I give you an answer.”

She turned and started cleaning up. Qian Qian didn’t want her doing everything alone, so she quickly got up to help.

“Are you heading back already?”

“Yeah.”

“But you said you needed at least two hours of practice. It’s only been one. Trying to sneak off early?”

Baili suddenly stopped what she was doing and turned slightly. The woman beside her stood with her arms crossed, chin lifted slightly. Her arched brows were graceful, and her eyes shone like tiny stars.

Baili’s gaze instantly softened. She smiled and teased:

“Manager Qian, do you have any more instructions for me?”

Qian Qian lowered her eyes slightly, thinking for a moment. A flash of inspiration crossed her face. She straightened up and leaned in a little, speaking softly:

“There’s a really nice café nearby. Their desserts are big and delicious. I’d like to invite you to go try them with me.”

“…You can still eat?!”