The Taste of Love Starts in the Kitchen (GL) - Chapter 62

Song Baili’s expression softened, her gaze drifting, and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks.

Sitting there in her slightly drunken state, her loose hair cascaded down her shoulders like soft petals. Her eyes seemed to shimmer with a crystalline mist, and the slight upward curve of her lips formed a smile so charming it was almost enchanting.

The woman, who usually exuded an air of reserved intellect, had unexpectedly transformed into a sultry goddess, stirring up hidden emotions in the hearts of those around her.

A few young women hovered around Song Baili like playful kittens, gently teasing her, brushing against her affectionately, and enjoying their mischievous games.

Meanwhile, Qian Qian’s brows furrowed tightly, her emotions churning like a blender on high speed. She clutched her glass so hard it seemed as though it might shatter in her grip, her face clouded with frustration.

Suddenly, she stood up, walked straight to Song Baili, and unceremoniously pushed the group of young women aside with a stern expression that was almost intimidating.

The startled women looked up at Qian Qian, wide-eyed and hesitant, clearly taken aback.

Suppressing her irritation, Qian Qian forced a strained smile.
“Song-jie has clearly had too much to drink. I’ll take her to her room. You all carry on and have fun. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before anyone could protest, Qian Qian firmly grabbed Song Baili’s arm, helping her up with surprising strength, and began guiding her—albeit a bit awkwardly—out of the room.

Once Song Baili was gone, the lively atmosphere in the room dissipated instantly.

The young women, now deprived of their source of entertainment, exchanged knowing glances. Their expressions betrayed a shared sense of disappointment, as if the delicious roast goose had been snatched away, leaving only bland garnishes on the plate.

They muttered among themselves, gathered a few remaining snacks, and one by one sauntered out, leaving behind only a few bewildered men.

The remaining men glanced at each other in confusion, unsure of what had just transpired. Eventually, one of them picked up his drink, forced a cheerful laugh, and tried to rekindle the lighthearted atmosphere.

Meanwhile, Qian Qian was maneuvering through the winding corridors, struggling to keep the intoxicated Song Baili upright. It felt less like helping a person and more like carrying precious but oddly heavy cargo.

Stopping frequently to adjust her hold, avoiding obstacles, and nearly tripping several times, Qian Qian eventually managed to guide Song Baili to her room with great effort.

Once inside, Qian Qian carefully lowered Song Baili onto the bed, muttering under her breath,
“For someone who looks so petite, how can she be so heavy? Is she carrying gold in her pockets or something?”

Though drunk, Song Baili wasn’t entirely unconscious. Hearing Qian Qian’s muttering, she opened her eyes slightly, her gaze still hazy, and stared at her.

Slowly, Song Baili raised a trembling hand and pointed at Qian Qian. Her voice was slurred but her words were clear enough:
“I… I figured it out… Little Jun likes you… and you… you like…”

Qian Qian, in the middle of taking a sip of water, froze. Her brows furrowed as irritation surged within her.

Turning sharply, she plopped down on the edge of the bed with a hint of defiance in her posture. She tilted her head back and retorted,
“Like? Like who, exactly? Tell me, who do I like?”

Song Baili didn’t respond. Her eyes remained closed, her delicate brows faintly furrowing, and her long lashes quivered slightly.

In the dim light, her skin seemed to glow faintly, her face resembling a masterpiece painted by an old-world artist—elegant, soft, and breathtakingly beautiful.

Unconsciously, Qian Qian’s hand reached out, her fingers brushing against the soft skin of Song Baili’s cheek. The gentle touch sent a subtle warmth coursing through her. She paused for a moment, then slowly traced her fingers downward, her heart pounding harder with each movement.

Her chest felt tight, like it was brimming with unspoken emotions. A sudden surge of courage overtook her, unstoppable and intense, like a river breaking free of a dam.

Qian Qian leaned down, her fingers lightly brushing against Song Baili’s hair, and gently pressed her lips to hers in a soft kiss.

It was a fleeting kiss, delicate and tender, like a whisper carried by the wind. For a moment, everything else seemed to fade, leaving only the quiet rhythm of her heartbeat.

As she began to pull back, she was met with a pair of bright, awake eyes gazing directly into hers.

The clarity in Song Baili’s gaze was startling, cutting through the air like a sharp blade. Qian Qian froze, her body stiffening mid-motion, her breath caught in her throat.

Song Baili suddenly propped herself up, her slender hand cupping Qian Qian’s face. Without hesitation, she leaned forward and kissed her back—a bold and decisive kiss, filled with an unspoken intensity.

When their lips met again, the kiss deepened. It wasn’t just a meeting of lips but a flood of emotions—longing, passion, and desire—all pouring forth, unstoppable and overwhelming.

Song Baili woke up from her dream, her blurry eyes slowly opening as she sat up. She turned her head toward the other bed, only to find it empty.

She carefully observed the undisturbed bed—no warmth on the pillow, the sheets perfectly neat. It was clear that no one had slept there the previous night.

Rubbing her heavy head, which felt as though weighed down by a boulder, her mind felt foggy, unable to think clearly. She absentmindedly wondered if Qian Qian had decided to sleep in another room instead.

A wave of frustration washed over her. Just as she was about to lie down again, her hand brushed against something soft. She glanced down and froze in place.

A beautiful face filled her vision, captivating her completely. Song Baili found herself mesmerized, her gaze fixed on the serene, sleeping figure.

Her delicate eyelashes curved softly, resembling black feathers. Her nose was high and perfectly shaped, and her lips, a gentle shade of pink, seemed to carry a faint smile even in her dreams.

The frustration from before vanished instantly, replaced by surprise and joy.

But one question lingered in her mind: why was Qian Qian in her bed?

Her thoughts remained muddled, her head throbbing as if hammers were pounding against her skull. Her stomach churned, a wave of nausea rising. She regretted drinking so much the previous night.

Lying in bed a little longer, the headache eased slightly, but thirst soon took over. Just as she struggled to sit up, a soft, fair hand snaked around her waist from behind, like a pale ribbon gently wrapping itself around her.

A shiver ran through Song Baili’s body, and she instinctively turned to look back. To her surprise, she found herself locking eyes with Qian Qian, whose gaze was filled with a delicate, shy charm.

Her eyes, like clear streams, seemed on the verge of overflowing with emotion.

“Where are you planning to go?”

The gentle question pulled Song Baili out of her daze. She blinked in confusion, her gaze falling on Qian Qian, and replied softly:

“Why are you in my bed?”

Qian Qian slowly sat up, tilting her head slightly. Then, without warning, she grabbed Song Baili’s collar, pulling her a little closer. Her voice, slightly husky, whispered:

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

“I…”

Song Baili glanced at their clothes—both still dressed neatly. The bed remained perfectly tidy, the sheets without a single wrinkle. She exhaled in relief.

“No, I don’t remember. I didn’t embarrass myself in front of everyone, did I?”

Qian Qian froze briefly, then released Song Baili’s collar and casually lay back down.

She hadn’t expected Baili to remember anything from her drunken state. If she had recalled, that would’ve been a miracle.

Qian Qian’s slender frame looked frail as she lay there, almost as if she might disappear with a gust of wind. Her expression was calm, but there was a faint trace of disappointment that made Song Baili feel uneasy.

“Last night, I was completely out of it. I didn’t say anything strange or do anything to upset you, did I?”

Still sprawled on the bed, Qian Qian seemed disheartened. But hearing the question, her eyes suddenly lit up. Her lips curled into a mischievous smile as an idea popped into her head.

She sat up abruptly, her sharp gaze locking onto Song Baili’s face, as though trying to see through her.

Song Baili flinched under the scrutiny, instinctively leaning back and nervously swallowing.

“You said you liked…”

Qian Qian paused dramatically, her bright eyes darting over Baili’s face.

But Baili’s expression was like a perfectly crafted mask, revealing nothing. Her composed demeanor made it impossible to gauge her thoughts.

Qian Qian faltered, unsure of herself. Facing Baili’s unreadable reactions was like trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. After several failed attempts to tease a reaction, Qian Qian felt her courage fading.

“You told me to keep my distance from Song Yongjun,” she finally said, her voice soft, “and that you liked spending time with me. You even asked me to follow you around like a little shadow, saying wherever you go, I should go too.”

Baili stared at Qian Qian, wide-eyed. After a moment of silence, she hesitantly asked:

“Did I really say that?”

Qian Qian nodded with a barely audible hum, her eyes flickering away as if avoiding the truth.

“But Yongjun cares so much about you. How could I ever bear to ask you to avoid him?”

“And yet you can bear to avoid me?”

The question struck a chord, leaving Baili speechless. She lowered her gaze, fidgeting nervously, her voice weak as she stammered:

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yes, you are. You are. You’d rather drink yourself silly with strangers than pay attention to me. Isn’t that treating me like some outsider?”

Baili opened her mouth as if to argue but faltered. Words formed and dissolved in her throat until she gave up, choosing silence instead.

Qian Qian, frustrated, pouted slightly. She cast a glance at Baili but quickly sighed in resignation.

“I don’t mind Yongjun. But he’s not my type. For a match to work, both people need to be happy. Otherwise, it’s just awkward for everyone. Baili, do you understand what I mean?”

Her cheeks flushed slightly as she leaned in closer, her voice low and warm like a gentle breeze, making Baili’s heart race uncontrollably.