"My love, food's ready!"
Her voice carried out from the kitchen, warm oil popping in the pan. The smell of fried chicken drifted through the house and wrapped around Han Suwen before he could finish the line he was reading.
He closed the manual, pressed his thumb between his brows, then let a smile settle in.
"Coming, dear."
He rose from the low table and walked in.
Meiyi stood by the stove, moving with the quick confidence she always had.
One of her sleeves hung flat, pinned neatly so it would not get in the way.
In this house, she was Han Meiyi.
She nudged him toward a chair with her elbow. "My secret recipe. See? I can still cook."
Han Suwen laughed under his breath and sat. "I was wrong. It smells great."
A whole day spent with cultivation notes had left his head tight and sore.
The scent alone loosened something in his mind.
Han Meiyi set the bowl down with care, chin lifted, waiting.
They had finished the wedding rites a week ago.
