The Taste of Love Starts in the Kitchen (GL) - Chapter 70

Qian Qian lazily lay on the sofa, one hand holding her phone, the other flipping through a guide her friends had shared about turning an ambiguous relationship into a committed one. The discussion was lighthearted and fun, and everyone agreed that making the other person jealous was a good strategy.

“You can try casually mentioning a chat with another guy to see if he gets jealous,” one friend teased.

“Yeah, or maybe share a photo of you with another guy to catch his attention,” another chimed in.

“That’s right! I told him I had a suitor, and as soon as he heard, he got upset and started asking me a ton of details.”

The comments were playful, and Qian Qian couldn’t help but imagine all sorts of amusing scenarios. These suggestions made her heart race a little.

Suddenly, a message popped up. It was from Song Baili. She quickly tapped to read it.

After finishing the message, Qian Qian’s lips curled into a slight frown. Her mood dropped a little, but then she remembered something and her eyes brightened. Her fingers flew across the screen, quickly replying to Song Baili:

“Alright, I’ll wait for Xiao Jun to come over. You make sure to eat well too!”

Song Baili paused for a moment, then tilted her head in confusion.

What’s going on?

She didn’t seem upset at all?

Not even the slightest bit?

Song Baili reread Qian Qian’s reply, her emotions a jumbled mess—joy, bitterness, confusion, all swirling inside her.

Women’s feelings are so unpredictable, like a sudden heavy snowfall—sometimes soft and pink, other times icy and harsh, leaving you unable to make sense of it.

Song Baili spent the whole day restless. Even though she was busy with work, her mind kept drifting back to the situation, like an unsettled piece of paper stuck to her back, impossible to shake off.

Just as she was about to call Qian Qian, her phone suddenly rang.

She picked up the phone, her eyes eager as she stared at the screen. But her mood instantly dropped, like cold water had splashed over her.

She hesitated for a moment, took a deep breath, and then answered the call.

“Sis, are you still at the store working?”

“Mm, but I’m about to close. I was just thinking of going to check on Qian Qian.”

Song Yongjun, speaking on the other end, glanced at Qian Qian, a sly smile curling on his lips. He cleared his throat and pretended to be concerned:

“You don’t have to worry about it. You’ve been working hard all day. You should rest up and go home early. As for me, I’m making dinner for Xiao Qian. She’s in a good mood right now.”

Song Baili fell silent for a moment, a feeling of bitterness rising in her chest, as if something invisible had clogged her throat, making it hard to breathe.

She bit her lip, tasting the bitterness in her mouth, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again, speaking firmly:

“I’m not tired. I’ll swing by since it’s on the way…”

Suddenly, Qian Qian’s voice came through the phone. Song Baili instinctively held the phone closer to her ear, tilting her head slightly, trying to focus on the voice from the other side, not wanting to miss anything.

Qian Qian’s voice sounded a bit muffled, but her emotions came through clearly, and Song Baili could feel her joy and excitement.

For a moment, it felt like she had been abandoned on a cold, desolate island, surrounded only by howling winds, her heart empty and hollow.

“Ah, I won’t waste any more time. The food in the pot is burning. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Song Yongjun’s panic made the call last a bit longer, and Song Baili listened quietly, hearing laughter in the background. It was in those moments that she realized just how easily Qian Qian could blend into any situation, enjoying herself with others without treating her differently.

She had thought she had a special place in Qian Qian’s heart, but now it seemed like she was just an ordinary part of her life.

Song Yongjun spent the whole day telling funny stories from their childhood, most of which were about Song Baili. He would joke about how she was like a little adult, always so serious and quiet when she was young.

Qian Qian sat beside him, listening intently, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She would occasionally chuckle at the stories.

Through these childhood anecdotes, she felt like she was getting to know Song Baili better, and as a result, she liked her even more.

Before dinner, Song Yongjun busied himself in the kitchen, quickly seasoning and stirring, preparing dish after dish.

Qian Qian watched his every move carefully, paying attention to the details, and occasionally asking him for advice. It wasn’t that she was interested in cooking, but because she wanted to learn the dishes that Song Baili liked.

The table was filled with an array of delicious dishes, the smell mouthwatering, but it didn’t seem to excite Qian Qian’s appetite. She absentmindedly picked at her food, her mind somewhere else.

Her expression was at times distant, at other times deep in thought. Her hand holding the chopsticks occasionally paused, only for her to grab her phone, glance at it, and then sigh and set it back down, furrowing her brow.

“Is the food not flavorful enough?”

Song Yongjun had practiced making these dishes many times in private, but each time the flavors were a bit off. The only consistent thing was that they weren’t very tasty.

“Mm, it needs a bit more salt.”

“I definitely can’t cook like you, sis. Your cooking skills are just amazing!”

“Mm.”

Qian Qian’s movements were slow and sluggish, as if she had no energy. Even lifting her chopsticks seemed heavy, and every bite of food felt like it took extra effort to chew down.

Song Yongjun noticed this and immediately understood.

Qian Qian didn’t care about the taste of the food. In fact, her mood had dulled her sense of taste, making everything around her feel tasteless.

The whole evening, Qian Qian left her phone quietly beside her, its silent screen mocking her expectations.

Whenever there was a new message notification, she eagerly grabbed her phone to check, but each time, it was nothing but disappointment.

This constant emotional rollercoaster made her more troubled than watching a sad, dramatic play, and she guessed that tonight she would be battling insomnia for a long time.

As time ticked by, Qian Qian’s mood shifted like the tides, restless and anxious, burning with impatience. She had no choice but to turn to her close friend group for help.

The group chat was lively with discussions, and a string of suggestions and comforting messages poured in.

Some people believed in the “play hard to get” strategy, while others said, “In a relationship, the one who takes the initiative is the one who loses.”

However, everyone agreed she should wait patiently, holding back her true feelings and letting the other person show theirs first.

Unable to stop herself, Qian Qian opened the chat window. Her mind was torn, knowing she should be patient, but every second felt like a sharp knife to her heart, making it impossible to stay calm.

Though she told herself to hold back, her fingers moved uncontrollably on the phone screen, and before she knew it, she had sent the message.

The whole night, she lay curled up in bed, holding her phone, staring at the few lines of text on the screen. Her thoughts wandered in the endless night, each second feeling like a year.

The message she sent felt like a message in a bottle, thrown into the vast ocean, drifting in the endless darkness, swallowed by the cruel waves, and eventually disappearing into the deep sea.

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, shining on Qian Qian’s face, waking her up.

She stretched lazily, then reached for her phone on the nightstand. When she saw a string of notifications appear on the screen, she sat up slowly, her fingertips sliding across the screen, her expression growing increasingly gloomy.

Messages from her work group, greetings from friends, and even some boring news updates all flashed across the screen. But the one message she was most eager to see, from that special someone, was nowhere to be found.

Reality hit her hard, and she sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the window with a heavy heart.

The advice from her straightforward girlfriends might work in general, but with her cold and aloof sister, it was like an out-of-control lawnmower ruining a once-beautiful garden.

Qian Qian’s mood sank into a deep despair, feeling trapped in a world of gray, until her phone suddenly lit up. Her heart skipped a beat, and a spark of hope ignited inside her.

She quickly grabbed the phone, her eyes lighting up when she saw the name on the screen. Her heart raced, her breath seemed to stop, and her fingers trembled as she opened the message.

“Last night I was so tired, just saw your message now.”

“What should we have for lunch today?”

Qian Qian looked at the screen, her mood starting to calm, but deep inside, there was still a faint sense of stubbornness.

Her eyes wandered, and after a moment of thought, she stopped herself from smiling and quickly typed a few words, sending them off.

“I’m not hungry today!”

As soon as the message was sent, Song Baili replied instantly:

“What’s going on?”

“Because I feel suffocated from missing you!”

Qian Qian typed out the words, but her finger hesitated over the send button.

She felt conflicted, torn between wanting to send the message boldly and worrying that Song Baili’s response might bring embarrassment or disappointment.

Finally, she shook her head, sighed, and deleted the message, starting over.

“Today I don’t feel like eating.”

The moment she sent the message, a reply came back immediately.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’ll make you something light to eat.”

Qian Qian stared at the warm words on the screen, a gentle warmth rising in her chest, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

She had originally planned to reply with a simple “Okay,” but then a thought interrupted her. She imagined Song Yongjun bringing food again, and the idea immediately filled her with reluctance.

“Don’t bring me any food. My foot is much better now, I can handle it myself.”