A few minutes later, Mei stirred.
She stretched her arms above her head, her body still heavy with sleep. But as she blinked her eyes open, she could've sworn she'd heard a male voice. Deep, Familiar.
She turned her head toward Xiaolan, who was sitting in the chair by the window, still looking dazed.
"Xiaolan," Mei said groggily, "was Jun here?"
Xiaolan blinked, snapping out of her trance. "Huh? No, Jun hasn't come by yet. It's still early."
Mei frowned, sitting up slightly. "But I heard a male voice. Or… was I just hearing things?"
Xiaolan's lips twitched. "No. You're not mistaken."
Mei's eyes widened. "Wait. Then who…"
"It was your husband."
Mei's brain short-circuited. "What?"
"Your husband," Xiaolan repeated slowly, like she was still trying to convince herself. "Zhang Wei. He was here. Like, ten minutes ago."
Mei shot up in bed, nearly tangling herself in the blankets. "You mean Wei was here? In this room? Just now?"
"Easy, easy!" Xiaolan rushed over, putting her hands on Mei's shoulders. "Don't put too much pressure on yourself. You're pregnant, remember?"
"I'm fine!" Mei waved her off, eyes wide and searching Xiaolan's face. "Just tell me, what did he come here for? What did he tell you?"
Xiaolan took a breath. "He brought you food."
Mei blinked. "Food?"
"Yeah. He said he made it. Specifically for you."
Mei stared at her. "He… made it? Like, with his own hands? In the kitchen?"
"Yes."
"You're joking."
"Why would I be joking this early in the morning?" Xiaolan said, throwing her hands up. "Do I look like I have the energy to mess with you right now?"
Mei's nose twitched. Her sense of smell had been getting stronger ever since the pregnancy, and now she caught it,the faint, warm aroma of rice. Ginger. Something comforting and familiar.
She turned her head toward the other side of the bed and saw it. The tray. The bowl of congee. The sliced fruit, The glass of water.
Her heart did a weird little flip in her chest.
If Wei made this food, she was definitely eating it.
A whole Zhang Wei… making food for her? In the kitchen? With an apron on?
That wasn't something she'd ever thought of. Not in a million years.
She reached for the bowl, her fingers trembling just a little, and brought it closer. The congee was still warm. Steam rose gently from the surface, carrying with it the sharp, soothing scent of ginger. The pieces floated on top, small and uneven, like someone who didn't really know what they were doing had tried their best.
And somehow, that made it even better.
Xiaolan watched her, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You gonna eat it or just stare at it?"
Mei didn't answer. She just picked up the spoon, dipped it into the congee, and brought it to her lips.
The first taste hit her tongue, warm, soft, slightly thick. The ginger tingled against her taste buds, soothing and sharp at the same time. The texture was a little off, the rice not quite as smooth as it should've been. The ginger was chunky, unevenly cut. The salt was barely noticeable, like he'd been afraid to add too much.
But it was perfect.
It was warm. It was gentle on her stomach, which had been queasy all morning. And more than that, it was his. He'd made this, For her.
She took another spoonful. Then another.
Her eyes stung, just a little.
She didn't know what this meant. Didn't know if it meant anything at all. Zhang Wei wasn't the type to suddenly become a doting husband. He was cold, distant, practical. This could just be… duty. Obligation. Making sure the mother of his child, his heir, was taken care of.
But still.
He'd made this. With his own hands. In the kitchen. Early in the morning.
That had to mean something, didn't it?
She took another bite, letting the warmth settle in her chest, and for now, just for now, she let herself believe it did.
Xiaolan watched her for a moment, then plopped down on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs. "So? How is it?"
Mei swallowed, her throat tight. "It's… really good."
Xiaolan raised an eyebrow. "Really? Or are you just being nice because Mr. Ice King made it?"
Mei shot her a look. "I'm serious. It's good. I mean, the ginger's a little chunky and the texture is kinda weird, but…"
"But it tastes like love?" Xiaolan teased, grinning.
Mei's face flushed red. "Stop it."
"I'm just saying!" Xiaolan threw her hands up, laughing. "The man woke up early in the morning, went into the kitchen, the kitchen, Mei, put on an apron, and made you congee. Do you know how insane that is?"
Mei bit her lip, trying not to smile. "I know."
"No, I don't think you do." Xiaolan leaned in, eyes wide with mock seriousness. "I opened the door and he was standing there like some kind of romance novel male lead. Sleeves rolled up, tray in hand, looking all broody and handsome. I almost fainted."
Mei snorted. "You're so dramatic."
"Dramatic?!" Xiaolan gasped, clutching her chest. "Mei, the chef probably had a heart attack when he walked into that kitchen. I bet she thought she was hallucinating."
Mei laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. "Okay, okay, I get it."
"And then…then…he told me he made it specifically for you. Not just breakfast, Specifically. For You." Xiaolan punctuated each word with a poke to Mei's shoulder.
Mei swatted her hand away, grinning. "Stop poking me!"
"I'm just saying, girl, if that's not husband material, I don't know what is." Xiaolan sat back, crossing her arms with a satisfied smirk. "Mr. Grumpy is turning into Mr. Softie and I am here for it."
Mei shook her head, still smiling. "He's not soft. He's just… being responsible. Making sure the baby's okay."
Xiaolan gave her a flat look. "Girl. Stop lying to yourself."
"I'm not lying…"
"You absolutely are." Xiaolan pointed at the tray. "That man did not wake up this early in the morning. and fumble his way through making congee just because of 'responsibility.' He could've told the chef to do it. He could've had a maid bring you anything. But no. He did it himself. With his own two hands. That's not responsibility, babe. That's feelings."
Mei's cheeks burned. She looked down at the bowl, stirring the congee slowly. "You think so?"
"I'm just being factual here." Xiaolan leaned forward, her voice softening just a bit. "Look, I know you're scared. I know this whole situation is weird and complicated and you don't know where you stand with him. But Mei… that man is trying. And maybe he doesn't know how to say it, but actions speak louder than words, right?"
Mei was quiet for a moment, her eyes still on the congee. Then she nodded slowly. "Yeah. I guess you're right."
"Of course I'm right. I'm always right." Xiaolan grinned, then grabbed a piece of sliced fruit from the tray and popped it into her mouth. "So what are you gonna do?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, are you just gonna sit here and eat your congee and pretend nothing happened? Or are you gonna, I don't know, thank him? Talk to him? Something?"
Mei hesitated. "I don't know. What if he thinks I'm reading too much into it?"
"Who cares what he thinks?" Xiaolan said, waving her hand dismissively. "He made you food. You say thank you. That's it. You don't have to confess your undying love or anything. Just acknowledge the gesture."
Mei bit her lip. "I guess I could text him…"
"Text him?!" Xiaolan nearly choked on her fruit. "Girl, no, Absolutely not. You wait until he gets home and you say it to his face."
"But what if…"
"No buts." Xiaolan pointed a stern finger at her. "Face to face. Eye contact. Maybe even a smile. You got this."
Mei groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Why is this so complicated?"
"Because feelings are complicated, babe. But that's what makes them worth it."
Xiaolan reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "And hey, at least you've got me to guide you through it. What would you do without me?"
Mei peeked at her through her fingers, smiling. "Probably starve."
"Exactly." Xiaolan stood up, stretching her arms above her head. "Now finish your congee before it gets cold. And then we're gonna figure out what you're wearing when that stylist team shows up."
Mei paused mid-bite, her spoon hovering in the air. She blinked. "What stylist team?"
Xiaolan turned to look at her, eyebrows raised. "Your husband said his personal stylist team would be coming this afternoon to bring you clothing and take your measurements. Didn't he tell you?"
Mei's eyes went wide. "Wait, what? He said that?"
"Yeah. This morning. Right before he left." Xiaolan tilted her head. "Did he not mention it to you before?"
"No! I mean…" Mei set the spoon down, her mind racing. "He mentioned something about getting me clothes a while back, but I thought he was joking. Like, just saying it to be polite or whatever."
Xiaolan's mouth dropped open. "Girl, you thought Zhang Wei…Zhang Wei…was joking?"
"Well, yeah! I mean, he doesn't exactly strike me as the type to arrange personal stylist appointments for anyone, let alone me."
"Mei." Xiaolan walked back over and sat down on the bed, her expression serious. "Your husband just made you congee with his own hands. Does that sound like a man who jokes?"
Mei opened her mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again. "Okay, fair point."
"And he didn't just say 'oh, I'll get you some clothes.' He said his personal stylist team. Like, the people who dress him. The ones who probably charge more per hour than most people make in a month."
Mei's face went pale. "Oh my god."
"Yeah. 'Oh my god' is right." Xiaolan leaned back on her hands, grinning. "So, is he for real?"
"I…I guess he is?" Mei's voice came out small, almost disbelieving. "I didn't think… I mean, I didn't expect him to actually…"
"To actually care?" Xiaolan finished gently.
Mei looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting together. "Yeah."
Xiaolan's expression softened. She reached over and squeezed Mei's hand. "Girl, he cares. Maybe he doesn't know how to show it in normal ways, but he's trying. And honestly? That's kind of sweet."
Mei's eyes started to sting again, and she blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. "I don't know what to do with this, Xiaolan. I don't know how to… process any of this."
"You don't have to process it all at once," Xiaolan said, her voice warm. "Just take it one step at a time. He made you breakfast. He's getting you new clothes. He's taking care of you. Let yourself accept that, okay?"
Mei nodded, swallowing hard. "Okay."
"Good." Xiaolan grinned, the playful light returning to her eyes. "Now finish that congee before I eat it myself. And then we need to figure out what the hell you're gonna say to a team of professional stylists when they show up to dress you like the lady of the house you actually are."
Mei groaned, but she was smiling. "You're not helping."
"Oh, I'm absolutely helping. You just don't know it yet." Xiaolan winked. "Now eat. Your man made that for you, and you better not waste a single bite."
Mei rolled her eyes, but she picked up her spoon again, her heart feeling just a little bit lighter.
And this time, the congee tasted even better.