Lan Shao was unaware of Fan Rou's kind of conflicted feelings; he happily busied himself in the kitchen.
He took the fish out of the bag, placed it on the cutting board, slapped it twice with the flat side of the knife, and the fish was dead.
Then he opened up the belly, took out the intestines and stuff, added seasoning, and tossed it into the pot.
Soon, the aroma wafted through the house.
Originally just saying so, Fan Rou now truly felt hungry; she touched her stomach and craned her neck to look at the kitchen.
Yet she couldn't move.
While she was eagerly waiting, Lan Shao finally came out of the kitchen carrying the dishes.
Two people, three dishes, Lan Shao quickly finished cooking.
He untied the apron, walked to Fan Rou, slightly bent his head, and looked at her, asking, "Xiao Rou, may I carry you to the dining table?"
"No, just help me up," Fan Rou flatly refused.
