"Well... it's alright." The hand holding the chopsticks tightened a bit, not daring to meet Qing Yi's curious eyes.
Qing Yi didn't seem too suspicious: "I find it quite spicy, eat less of it or it might upset your stomach."
"Hmm." The drunkard replied absentmindedly, keeping his head down as he ate the noodles Qing Yi had cooked for him. He didn't look up for a long time and didn't eat anything else.
These things had no taste at all, including the bowl of noodles he had been longing for.
Tasteless things are really hard to swallow, and it felt like the whole world had lost its color at that moment.
He tried to eat according to the taste he remembered, but the more he ate, the more upset he felt inside.
In the past, he found it delicious, but when he finally wanted to savor it carefully, he couldn't taste anything anymore.
Fate loves to play tricks on people; we don't know how to cherish things when we should, and when we finally want to, it's too late.
