Hearing Mu Xingfeng say he’ll make beef noodles for her, An Ran hurriedly scuffled to the kitchen door, craning her neck with a playful grin, "You’ll make it for ? Does that an all I have to do is open my mouth?"
"Just open your mouth and eat," Mu Xingfeng replied, turning his head.
An Ran pursed her lips, her big eyes twinkling with mischief.
Although Mu Xingfeng often cooked at ho now, he always needed her by his side to guide him; otherwise, he’d forget the salt or add too much sugar. Without her, the dishes he made would challenge the limits of human taste.
Today, he audaciously claid she only needed to open her mouth to eat. She was curious to see what kind of beef noodles he’d make.
Mu Xingfeng turned to see the little rascal lying at the kitchen door; neither coming in nor going out, just staring at him with those big eyes. He knew she was up to sothing mischievous, yet he ignored her and started mixing the dough.
Mu Xingfeng’s hands were quite attractive, long and straight, his ten fingers defined and beautiful even amidst the white flour.
Watching him in his green guard uniform, wearing a pink floral apron by the kitchen counter, An Ran sneakily took out her phone, snapped a photo, and sent it to Mu Wanxin’s friend group. Then, ignoring the commotion the photo caused, she exited the chat and focused on watching the man make beef noodles for her.
You have to admit, Mu Xingfeng is truly impressive.
Take beef noodles, for example. An Ran had only made them in front of him once, yet he learned like a pro.
Mixing, kneading, rolling the dough—his noodles were even steadier and finer than An Ran’s experienced ones.
The beef was sliced to the perfect thickness.
However, An Ran couldn’t understand why a man so exceptional at everything beca confused once the heat was on, resulting in chaotic dishes.
She’d noticed this many tis: Mu Xingfeng could ticulously prepare all the ingredients but beco at a loss once it was ti to cook.
He either misplaced or forgot ingredients, leading her to suspect that he did this deliberately so she could justifiably stay beside him while he cooked.
Once everything was ready, Mu Xingfeng lit the stove and set up the pot, turning to glance at An Ran.
An Ran slightly raised her chin, signaling him to continue. Mu Xingfeng caught the little rascal’s intention, smirked, and poured so oil into the pot, starting to stir-fry the beef.
Spring onions, ginger, bean paste, broth, salt—everything was spot on.
Allowing the beef to simr on low heat, he started another burner to boil noodles and blanch vegetables.
Dish out the noodles, ladle on the beef broth, and in no ti, two bowls of beef noodles were ready.
Slling the tempting aroma of the noodles, An Ran, like a tail, followed Mu Xingfeng as he carried the noodles to the table, picking up chopsticks and slurping up a noodle, her cheeks puffing up as she seriously tasted it, finally arriving at a conclusion.
"Mu Xingfeng, were you ssing with before?"
Mu Xingfeng served another bowl, puzzled by his wife’s complaints, turning to her.
"Clearly, you can cook, and even better than , but you always pretended not to know how, either burning everything or acting clueless. Were you doing it on purpose, just to enjoy the results?"
"This is tasty?" Mu Xingfeng didn’t catch An Ran’s complaint, only hearing her say it tasted better than her cooking, even he was surprised.
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