The Art of Teasing - Chapter 56
Chapter 56
After her anger passed, Wen Zhengyu calmed down and her mind started working.
The fact that Wen Shiyi's first thought after receiving her message had been about dowries and money only meant one thing: he was badly short of cash. He'd lived a life of splendor for most of his years, accustomed to being surrounded by beautiful women and spending money like water. She believed he would find it hard to endure the indignity of being broke. If he went to her eldest aunt, her eldest aunt would help him—she would keep him fed and clothed, might even lend him a bit of money for some small business—but lending him enough to support his old lifestyle was impossible. He dreamed of a comeback, talked about having a project, but abroad, aside from her eldest aunt, he had no connections whatsoever. Nor did he possess any irreplaceable expertise. The only way for him to get a project was to invest money. Old Mr. Wen Ru's family fortune had long been emptied; there would be no more money for Wen Shiyi. Wen Shiyi was overseas and had his eldest sister, but Madam Wen Shishu was in China. If she wanted to transfer a large sum of money overseas to lend to Wen Shiyi, the paperwork would be extremely troublesome. She wouldn't go to that much effort.
The thought that he was short of money and not living so comfortably made Wen Zhengyu feel a little better.
She opened her phone, and right in front of Wen Shishu, moved Mr. Wen Shiyi's phone number to the blacklist. Then she logged into her phone email and the chat app that had Mr. Wen Shiyi added, and blacklisted all of his accounts without exception.
Wen Shishu gently patted Wen Zhengyu's back and said, "Go rest early." Blocking Third Brother right in front of her was clearly telling her: from now on, never mention Third Brother in front of her again. For a biological father and daughter to reach this point, Wen Shishu could only sigh inwardly.
Wen Zhengyu gave a soft "Mm" and said, "Second Aunt, Grandfather, you should rest early too." Then she went upstairs to her room.
Back in her room, she sat at her desk and took out the photograph of Lian Huaijin. She gazed at the gentle, soft woman whose eyes held a smile. She thought, I actually had a good mother.
After her heart calmed, she washed up and went to bed.
The next day, she returned to the art studio to work.
She hadn't been to the studio for nearly half a month, yet everything remained in perfect order. None of the staff in any department had slacked off because of her absence. She went to the front desk receptionist and asked, "Has CEO Ye been coming over often lately?"
The receptionist stood and replied, "Yes."
Wen Zhengyu understood. When she wasn't at the studio, with Ye Ling there, it was exactly the same.
Ye Ling didn't involve herself in day-to-day management, but as the studio's largest shareholder and biggest boss, as long as she was present, no one dared to slack off right under her nose.
She knew that Ye Ling was helping her keep an eye on the studio.
Wen Zhengyu was quite moved.
From behind came the distinctive sound of Ye Ling's footsteps.
Wen Zhengyu turned to see Ye Ling coming up from the first floor.
When Ye Ling saw Wen Zhengyu, delight and surprise spread across her face, blossoming into a radiant smile, her eyes lighting up. "Zhengyu, morning. Is your cold better?" she said with a smile.
Wen Zhengyu nodded. "I'm fine now." She added, "During the time I was away, I've put CEO Ye to trouble."
Ye Ling's smile instantly curved her eyes. "No trouble at all," she said, then quickly added, "Just treat me to a meal."
Wen Zhengyu answered, "Alright."
Ye Ling asked, "Can you cook?"
Wen Zhengyu: "…" Was she supposed to cook?
Ye Ling said, "You can't? Then come to my place. I'll cook for you."
Wen Zhengyu: "…" She paused for several seconds before asking, "You can cook?"
Ye Ling laughed. "When I used to live at home, if I came home late and there was no meal left for me, I'd just cook for myself."
For a moment Wen Zhengyu truly didn't know what to say. Just yesterday she had felt terribly unlucky to have a father like that. But now, after this comparison with Ye Ling, she suddenly felt that she was actually quite fortunate.
Ye Ling said, "My cooking is quite good. Want to give it a try?"
Wen Zhengyu replied, "Then I'll impose on you."
Ye Ling said, "Good, it's settled. You finish your work first, then call for me. We'll go to the supermarket to buy groceries."
Wen Zhengyu's mouth opened in astonishment. "We… we have to go to the supermarket to buy groceries?"
Ye Ling gave an "Mm" and said, "We also need to buy meat, and seasonings."
Wen Zhengyu immediately understood: Ye Ling, like Wen Li, probably didn't cook at home. She thought further—whenever Ye Ling had free time at noon, she would eat at the studio; dinner was usually social engagements; as for breakfast, she would just grab bread and coffee. Wen Zhengyu said, "If it's too much trouble, we can go to a restaurant."
Ye Ling said, "No trouble. You've treated me to so many home-cooked meals; I want to treat you to my home cooking too."
Wen Zhengyu could only manage an "Alright." She was left speechless by how a simple thank-you had turned into a dinner invitation at Ye Ling's house.
Once she finished her work, Ye Ling dragged her off to the supermarket.
She rarely went to supermarkets. Previously she might occasionally visit imported snack shops or imported goods stores, but her visits to a large supermarket like this could be counted on one hand.
Ye Ling was entirely at ease. Once inside, she grabbed a shopping cart.
Wen Zhengyu glanced back at the bodyguards hidden among the crowd, then looked at Ye Ling. After hesitating, she asked, "You used to buy your own groceries?"
Ye Ling said, "I did. Back in college, the power would cut off at curfew, and our dorm matron was going through menopause—she checked rooms like a tyrant. The moment she spotted any hint of light in a dorm, she'd hammer on the door like she was trying to tear it down. So I rented a room near the school and did my own laundry and cooking."
Wen Zhengyu made a vague "Uh" sound and asked, "No nanny or housekeeper?"
Ye Ling said, "Step-grandmother managed the household. I got a living allowance of two thousand yuan a month."
Wen Zhengyu: "…" So it really was a step-grandmother. No wonder Ye Ling had to fight her step-grandmother and those uncles to the bitter end. If she didn't fight, she wouldn't even have enough to eat.
When she saw Ye Ling reach for the seasonings, she took the initiative to push the cart.
As Ye Ling added items to the cart, she asked Wen Zhengyu, "What about you? Did you live in the dorms at college?"
Wen Zhengyu said, "I stayed for half a semester. I kept losing things, and classmates would use my personal products without asking, so I moved out."
A smile tugged at the corner of Ye Ling's mouth. "What did you lose?"
Wen Zhengyu was a bit embarrassed. She paused, then said, "Clothes that still had their tags on, facial cleanser, shoes, toiletries like toothbrush, toothpaste, and skincare products—all inexpensive stuff that wasn't worth pursuing." New underwear and bras that still had their tags also disappeared, which was especially awkward and too embarrassing to report. Her classmates would steal her things and then sell them online through the campus network at a twenty percent discount, offering delivery on campus or pickup off campus.
After they finished shopping at the supermarket, they went straight to Ye Ling's home.
Once home, Ye Ling dismissed all her bodyguards and attendants, then said to Wen Zhengyu, "Come to the kitchen and help."
Wen Zhengyu's brain couldn't quite process. She invited her to her house, then gave everyone the day off, leaving just the two of them in the entire residence?
Ye Ling cast a grinning glance at Wen Zhengyu and said, half-jokingly, "It's a two-person world. No need for so many light bulbs."
Wen Zhengyu gave Ye Ling a speechless look, then followed her into the kitchen. She wanted to see Chef Ye in action.
As soon as she stepped in, Ye Ling shoved two cloves of garlic into her hands and said, "Smash the garlic."
Wen Zhengyu stared blankly at the garlic in her hand. Smash garlic?
Ye Ling, noticing Wen Zhengyu's utter confusion, explained, "I need it for stir-frying and cold dishes. I noticed you don't eat much garlic, so I'll use less—two cloves should be enough."
Wen Zhengyu knew that cooking required crushed garlic. She scanned around but didn't see a mortar and pestle. She glanced at Ye Ling, who had her back turned, busily taking out the groceries, tying on an apron, and rolling up her sleeves as she got to work. Silently, Wen Zhengyu moved to the side, lowered her head, and began peeling the garlic.
Hearing unusual silence behind her, Ye Ling turned around to see Miss Wen standing before the kitchen trash bin, carefully tearing off garlic skins with her head bowed. Her long fingernails were certainly effective—she tore off one tiny piece at a time, meticulous to the point of embroidering.
Ye Ling asked Wen Zhengyu, "Do your hands hurt?"
Wen Zhengyu didn't raise her head. "It's fine."
Ye Ling said, "That's not how you deal with garlic."
Wen Zhengyu faltered. "Peel garlic?"
Ye Ling rinsed the chopping board and knife with clean water, then took the garlic that Wen Zhengyu had placed on the counter, along with the garlic in her hand. She pressed the cloves onto the board, raised the cleaver, and—papapapa—smashed them in quick succession. Then with a series of rapid chops—kakakaka—she minced them and handed them to Wen Zhengyu. "Just chop them like that."
Suddenly Wen Zhengyu wanted to ask, Can we just skip lunch? I can hold out until dinner out.
But she could see that Ye Ling was thoroughly enjoying herself, so she resignedly picked up the knife and started chopping garlic.
Ye Ling rinsed the rice, put it in the rice cooker, and began prepping ingredients.
Her kitchen was spacious, with more than one cutting board. Wen Zhengyu occupied one; Ye Ling took another to chop vegetables. She urged, "Be careful—don't cut your fingers."
Once Wen Zhengyu finished chopping the garlic, Ye Ling directed her to scoop it into a bowl. Then she had her beat eggs—they would steam egg custard.
Ye Ling was busy nonstop, and she kept Wen Zhengyu's hands just as full, until a thin sheen of sweat covered Wen Zhengyu's forehead.
Ye Ling washed her hands, stepped out to grab a few tissues, came back, and wiped the sweat from Wen Zhengyu's forehead.
Wen Zhengyu, head down peeling eggplant, politely thanked her for the gesture.
Ye Ling gave a soft laugh and said, "You're welcome." As for the air conditioning—well, it was August anyway; forgetting to turn it on was just forgetting.
Wen Zhengyu stayed in the kitchen with Ye Ling, busy for two hours, and it wasn't until past one in the afternoon that they finally ate.
This lunch was over an hour later than usual; Wen Zhengyu was famished.
Ye Ling placed a piece of fish in Wen Zhengyu's bowl and said, "Try the fish I made."
Wen Zhengyu finished the fish in her bowl.
Ye Ling then put a braised lion's head meatball into Wen Zhengyu's bowl and said, "Try the lion's head—see how it tastes."
After Wen Zhengyu finished the meatball, Ye Ling served her two slices of bamboo shoot. "Try the bamboo shoots."
Only then did Wen Zhengyu realize something was off. Was Ye Ling feeding her? She raised her head and looked at Ye Ling.
Ye Ling said, "Eat more. You're almost skin and bones." She ladled out a bowl of soup for her. "How's my cooking? Not bad, right?"
Wen Zhengyu told the truth: "A bit worse than Aunt Sun's."
Ye Ling turned her head to look at Wen Zhengyu. "Your family has had professional chefs for how many years?"
Wen Zhengyu caught the dissatisfaction in Ye Ling's voice and hurriedly poured a bowl of soup for Ye Ling as an apology. "Try the soup I made," she said. She only knew how to make soup.
Ye Ling accepted the bowl and thanked her. She took a few sips and sighed. "It's been so many years, ever since…" She swallowed the rest of the sentence, gave a self-deprecating little smile, and continued drinking her soup with a spoon.
Wen Zhengyu didn't know what memory had surfaced for Ye Ling, but since Ye Ling didn't say, she didn't ask.
The meal was the product of both their labor. Ye Ling kept putting food onto Wen Zhengyu's plate, insisting, "Eat more. It's a waste if we can't finish—this is the fruit of our hard work." By the end of the meal, Wen Zhengyu was stuffed.
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