"How is it, Zhao? Does my cooking taste good?"
Cao Lei batted her big, watery eyes and asked eagerly, like a child waiting for their parents' praise.
"Hmm, not bad, quite good actually, just the right amount of saltiness, suits my taste perfectly."
Zhao Tienan's mouth twitched several times as he tried hard to appear sincerely honest, but even he couldn't believe his own words.
He truly couldn't compliment Cao Lei's cooking skills at all.
Especially the stir-fried kidney dishes, which still had red streaks of blood, tasting both raw and fishy, hitting him straight to the top of his head.
The remaining dishes weren't much better; either too salty or too bland, and almost all were undercooked.
If Zhao Tienan weren't worried about hurting Cao Lei's fragile self-esteem, he might have vomited on the spot.
In fact, Zhao Tienan was very impressed with himself.
That he could actually swallow such awful food was a testament to the remarkable adaptability of humans.
