The Taste of Love Starts in the Kitchen (GL) - Chapter 52

Song Qinyao woke up from her sleep, feeling the warmth of the blanket covering her. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant.

When she opened her eyes, she found that the light in the room had softened. Through the gap in the curtains, the warm orange glow of the setting sun filtered in.

She slowly sat up, feeling the exhaustion in her body dissipate like a thin mist. It was as though after a spring rain, all weariness had been washed away, and she was filled with new energy.

She stretched her arms and moved her neck, feeling the comfort and flexibility of her joints, as if she had regained the lightness of her body.

She got out of bed, her feet landing softly on the wool carpet. She walked across the spacious room and entered the bathroom. The automatic system detected her presence and gently turned on the water. Warm droplets fell on her like a gentle rain.

After showering, she entered the bright walk-in closet. The reflection in the mirror showed her delicate figure, radiating a fresh and captivating beauty. Water droplets dripped from her hair like an ethereal fairy just out of a bath.

She casually dropped the bathrobe and changed into a carefully chosen outfit. The skirt swayed elegantly, outlining her graceful figure. She raised her hand, gently running her fingers through her hair, adjusting her hairstyle.

The screen of her phone was filled with a stack of messages, but there was no reply from Song Baili. Her gaze darkened, and disappointment spread across her heart. All her expectations turned into heavy stones pressing on her chest, making her feel like her heart was being pierced.

She slowly walked down the stairs, each step feeling particularly heavy. Her gaze wandered around the empty living room, hoping to find the figure that made her heart flutter.

At the door, she ran into a servant and asked expectantly, “Has Miss returned?”

The servant’s answer was exactly what she expected. Once again, disappointment washed over her like cold water. She nodded silently, turned her face slightly, and quietly hid the emotions in her eyes.

Song Yongjun returned home to find that Song Qinyao’s favorite car was gone.

He quickly went upstairs, lightly tapping on Song Qinyao’s bedroom door, his hands naturally folding across his chest. His expression was somewhat helpless, as if he already knew the answer behind the door would not be what he hoped for.

Without hesitation, he opened the door and carefully scanned every corner of the room. The room was silent, and no one was there.

He stood by the door, his finger brushing over his lips, lost in thought for a moment, before he quietly stepped back and walked downstairs.

After sitting down on the sofa in the living room, he called Song Qinyao’s phone, but the cold, automated response played. He called Song Baili’s phone, but it was the same—no response.

Finally, without thinking, he flipped through his phone contacts and paused on a specific name.

At that moment, his adrenaline surged, and the joy that filled his heart drowned out the worry from earlier.

Just as his finger was about to press the call button, his phone rang. Song Qinyao’s name flashed on the screen.

When the call connected, a smooth, upbeat jazz tune played in the background.

“Why aren’t you resting at home? You’re sick but still out having fun?” Song Yongjun asked.

Song Qinyao was silent for a while, her voice light and mellow, tinged with a soft, tipsy tone. She spoke slowly, “This house doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. Staying here just makes me sadder.”

“Stop nonsense. How could this house not mean anything? Did you drink too much? Send me your location. I’ll come find you.”

Song Qinyao didn’t intend to send her exact location. She casually mentioned the name of a bar. On the other end, he could hear her talking to the bartender before she abruptly ended the call.

The line went dead with a beep, and Song Yongjun furrowed his brows, staring at his phone screen for a moment, his expression puzzled.

He tilted his head, lost in thought for a second, then picked up his phone again to look up the bar’s information. The screen filled with details about the place.

Staring at the screen, his eyes suddenly flickered as though he had just thought of something. He quickly switched from the search page to the contact page and pressed a number without hesitation.

Although Song Yongjun wasn’t a member of the private bar, he was familiar with the manager, and he quickly made his way through the city’s nightlife to reach the special venue.

As he pushed open the bar door, an extravagant atmosphere greeted him.

Dim yellow lighting illuminated the luxurious decorations and exquisite artwork on the walls. The floor was covered with plush carpets, and the lavish furniture dotted the space. The sound of a soft violin and low bass resonated in the air.

In the center of the bar, a dazzling bar counter stood, lined with an array of bottles. The bartenders moved like a flowing current, crafting one artistic cocktail after another for the guests.

Song Qinyao sat at the bar, holding a cigarette between her delicate fingers. The smoke curled around her like a dream, making her seem even more enchanting, like a fairy surrounded by mist.

The smoke swirled around her fingers, weaving between them, rising elegantly as she took a light puff.

The bar’s lighting illuminated her side profile, highlighting her delicate features, creating a gentle and lonely image. Her eyes, barely visible through the mist, carried a faint sadness, as if she were tracing a distant memory.

Her presence seemed to light up the entire bar, and Song Yongjun’s gaze, cutting through the layers of shadows, finally landed on her.

“I didn’t know you smoked, or drank. I bet Mom and Dad don’t know about this either,” he said.

“You don’t know much about me, anyway. No one in the family really understands me,” she replied.

“What about your sister? Doesn’t she get you either?”

Song Qinyao barely smiled, remaining silent. However, she gripped her glass tighter.

She exhaled the smoke and put out the cigarette, gently lifting her glass and drinking it all at once.

Then, she reached for the bottle to refill her glass, but as her fingers touched it, Song Yongjun swiftly took it from her.

Her hand froze in midair, and her fingers trembled slightly before she pulled them back, slowly making a fist.

She narrowed her eyes, staring at him, an expression of displeasure creeping onto her face.

“Hey, don’t act like I’ll turn things around just because you want me to drink more,” she said.

Song Yongjun shot her a glare, his eyebrows slightly raised. Then, with a smooth motion, he poured the liquor into her glass and handed the bottle back to her.

Finally, he took a sip from his own glass, furrowing his brows, his face tightening before speaking in a bold tone, “If you’re drowning your sorrows, you should at least use a decent glass. Let me buy you a real drink tonight.”

“If you’re not a member, forget about paying. No one here will care if you pay. I still have some membership balance left. Enough to keep me fuzzy for a while.”

“So, are you planning to stay fuzzy here?” he asked.

Song Qinyao fell silent, her gaze dropping like a calm lake, undisturbed, though hiding a swirling storm of emotions.

Drinking to forget didn’t give her the courage she sought; instead, it cast a deeper shadow on her heart.

She was drawn to a soul she shouldn’t fall for, and speaking her feelings didn’t come from fear of loss, but from the dread of someone taking away the freedom to stay lost in love.

She took the bottle and made it dance in the air. The liquid shimmered in the glass, and her gaze wandered through the emptiness, as though a thousand words were hidden within her.

Then, she gently set the bottle back on the table, her fingers slowly tracing its surface, leaving an unseen mark.

“I don’t really like drinking, and I’m not a smoker either, but every time I use this to torture myself, the pain outside feels a little less,” she murmured softly, her tone laced with helplessness, as if sighing against fate and the deep contradictions of her emotions.

Song Yongjun looked at her, seeing her rare moment of vulnerability. Her once strong eyes now seemed hazy, as if caught in a tangled web of emotions.

Her lips curled slightly, but a trace of exhaustion was visible.

The glass in Song Yongjun’s fingers spun absentmindedly, his thoughts stirred by the sight of her. He sighed lightly, his voice tinged with concern, “I never imagined my tough, invincible sister would also be hiding some pain. Interesting.”

“I don’t want to be invincible or tough. I just want her…”

His words were cut off, as if blocked by an invisible force, and Song Qinyao realized how many times she had used the phrase “don’t want,” while the things she truly cherished remained unspoken, quietly buried in her heart.

Because of her privileged life, Song Qinyao had rarely known moments of material lack. Anyone she glanced at seemed to be drawn to her, like moths to a flame.

In her heart, the one regret was that she could never turn that deep familial bond into a passionate love.

“Just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen. If it’s possible, I’ll find a way.”

“Are you serious? Can I really count on you?”

“Once I say something, I mean it. Don’t expect me to back out.”

At that moment, Song Qinyao saw her brother’s innocent, naive side. The happiness that bubbled inside her was like a can of soda, with its bubbles rising joyfully.

Her eyes, long and beautiful, curved ever so slightly, and she smiled gently, as though spring had blown through a field of flowers.

Having regained her inner strength, she straightened her back and turned to face Song Yongjun directly.

Song Qinyao placed her hand softly over his, exuding an air of confidence and unshakable resolve.

“I’m in love with a woman. Lately, I’ve been going crazy wanting to be with her. She’s the only one I care about in this life. I don’t want anyone else. Bro, you have to help me!”

Song Yongjun’s gaze froze for a moment, his pupils dilating slightly. He stared at her, stunned, caught completely off guard.