Yinguo Town awoke in the morning light with a captivating charm, casting its soft warmth over the two people in bed. Zhi Li lay on his stomach with both hands beneath the pillow, using it to shut out the dazzling sunlight. On the other side, only one corner of the blanket covered Ke Bu’s stomach, while one foot dangled over the edge of the bed. Every so often, his lips moved unconsciously.
Irritated by the sunlight, the heat-sensitive Zhi Li frowned, his face still buried in the pillow. His beautiful fingers searched across the bed until they finally found the air-conditioner remote. He lowered the temperature to its coldest setting, then tossed the remote aside. The air conditioner began humming softly, sending a chill into the room. Ke Bu sleepily cracked open his eyes, his head still heavy and muddled. Sensitive to the cold, he wrapped his arms around himself, unable to understand why it had suddenly become so chilly. He instinctively tugged at the blanket, his eyes opening and closing. The blanket was trapped beneath Zhi Li, and Ke Bu could not pull it free, so he rolled closer to him. “Give me some of the blanket. It’s so cold.” Zhi Li gave no response.
Ke Bu’s voice was faint and indistinct. “If you don’t give me any, I’m going to rub myself against you.”
There was still no reaction. Ke Bu had only just drifted off again when the cold woke him. “I’m going to get sick from freezing.”
“I’ll end up in the hospital, and the doctors will touch me all over while examining me.”
“Maybe this little cold will cause an even more serious infection, and then you’ll receive a critical-condition notice.”
“I’m serious. Give me some of the blanket. I’m going to die.”
After repeating this several times and receiving no response to his monologue, Ke Bu sat up, rubbed his eyes, and struggled to make out the number displayed on the air conditioner. Pouting, he silently mouthed complaints at Zhi Li, who remained sprawled on the bed, then began searching everywhere for the remote. When he finally found it in a corner of the room, he pointed it at the air conditioner and raised the temperature by one degree. The unit beeped, and Zhi Li’s muffled voice came from where his face was buried in the pillow. “Try raising it another degree.”
“News of my impending death can’t wake you, but the beep of the remote can?!!!” Ke Bu returned the air conditioner to its previous setting. Zhi Li said nothing more. Ke Bu staggered back to the bedside and deliberately put on a pitiful voice. “But I’m cold.”
“Then sleep in the hallway.”
“But I just want to snuggle up beside you.” Ke Bu climbed onto the bed and feebly crawled toward Zhi Li. He clambered on top of him, lay across his back, and rested his head on Zhi Li’s shoulder.
“Ke Bu?”
“Mm?”
“Can you sleep like this?”
“Of course. Why?”
“I can’t.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Don’t make me beat you first thing in the morning.” Zhi Li’s morning temper was extraordinarily bad. Ke Bu slid off his back. Zhi Li pressed the blanket over Ke Bu’s face, wrapped him from head to toe, and shoved the blanket-covered bundle toward the edge of the bed until he reached the very brink. Ke Bu pulled the blanket away from his face and turned around. “What are you doing!!”
“It’s too hot. Don’t come over here. This side belongs to me.”
“Does your territory have to be so enormous?!!! I’m about to fall off the bed.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
Ke Bu wrinkled his nose, but he was too sleepy to keep arguing. He was an extremely lazy person and always slept as long as possible during holidays. When people were drowsy, their emotions and memories faded along with their wakefulness, and he soon fell asleep again. By the time he next awakened, it was already noon, and his stomach was constantly reminding its owner that his body was starving. Opening his eyes, he found Zhi Li sitting at the desk and drawing. This sight ranked among Ke Bu’s three favorite versions of Zhi Li, though the scores separating them were not very large. He loved seeing Zhi Li beneath the bright light, his legs bent and his sketchbook resting on his knees, his arm moving in small, graceful arcs. Zhi Li was pure white—fresh and captivating amid the scorching summer heat. His clean profile held no expression, and he appeared simple, quiet, and utterly focused, as though the world had nothing to do with him. He was a landscape washed entirely in white.
“So hungry.” Ke Bu rubbed his stomach. He had not eaten the previous night, yet even so, he refused to get up. He sprawled across the bed in the shape of the character 大 and fell asleep again. Before long, he awakened. “So hungry.” This time, he rolled to the foot of the bed and fell asleep once more. When he awakened again, he rolled toward the side nearest Zhi Li’s desk. His entire upper body hung over the edge of the bed, both arms dangling freely. “So hungry.”
Only then did he realize the serious problem confronting them: neither he nor Zhi Li knew how to cook, and everyone working at the villa had been given time off. Had he known, he would never have allowed Zhou Xin He to leave. He could have paid her one yuan a day and made her their Filipina maid.
“Zhi Li, don’t you think you’re incredible? You can draw, sing, and play basketball… How can you be so talented?” Ke Bu’s voice rose several degrees, brimming with admiration. “You must know how to cook too~~” This was Ke Bu’s method of provoking him through praise.
“What?”
“Are you pretending you didn’t hear me?”
Zhi Li raised his eyes and stared at Ke Bu. “Ke Bu, are you satisfied with how useless you are? You can’t draw, sing, or play basketball… Don’t tell me you can’t even cook.” Ke Bu was stunned by Zhi Li’s counterattack. Even more infuriating was the expression on Zhi Li’s face, as though wondering how he had ever chosen someone like Ke Bu. Unable to swallow the insult, Ke Bu rose from the bed and rolled up his sleeves. “Normally, I simply don’t like showing off. I’m afraid you’ll discover another of my virtues and fall so hopelessly in love with me that you can’t escape.”
“You can rest assured. My feelings for you aren’t that deep yet.”
“Stop lying to yourself. Watch me cook an incredible meal that completely conquers your stomach. From then on, you’ll never want to eat anyone else’s cooking. Keep drawing. I’m going to display my talents.” Ke Bu stretched, looking full of fighting spirit. The moment he shut the door, however, he quickly washed up and began sneaking down the mountain. Zhi Li turned a page and caught sight of Ke Bu’s suspicious figure from the corner of his eye.
Ke Bu raced down the mountain to the picturesque restaurant they had visited when they first came to Yinguo Town. After urging the staff to package the food as quickly as possible, he hurried back. Upon returning, he failed to notice the gaze watching him from upstairs. Feeling enormously pleased with himself, he transferred the dishes onto plates, deliberately smeared oil around the kitchen to make a mess, and cleverly placed the final dish into a wok so that he could stir and toss it around. Zhi Li came over, folded his arms, and leaned against the doorframe. Ke Bu wiped away his sweat with his forearm. “It’s nearly ready. Wait a little longer. I haven’t thickened the sauce yet.” Ke Bu put on the appearance of an expert.
“Is that so?”
“Someone who can’t cook wouldn’t understand. Cooking can’t be rushed. My gentle and refined personality was cultivated through years of cooking.”
“I truly don’t understand.”
Hearing Zhi Li openly admit his deficiency suddenly filled Ke Bu with a sense of superiority. He deliberately made even more noise with the spatula. “That’s why people shouldn’t be too arrogant. I normally refuse to cook for you because I’m afraid I’ll spoil you. Your entire family already pampers you, so I have to be the strict supervisor who guides you back onto the proper path in life.” Pretending solemnly, he transferred the final dish onto a plate.
“Your ability to cook certainly plays a decisive role in guiding my life onto the proper path.”
“Was that sarcasm?”
“You could even tell?”
“Tsk, tsk. Look at that—a person who can’t cook, yet still acts so arrogantly.” He truly had the nerve to use those words to lecture someone else. Ke Bu carried the dishes to the table and arranged the bowls and chopsticks. He then scooped out the takeout rice he had poured into the rice cooker and carefully flattened earlier, handing a bowl to Zhi Li while secretly mocking him in his heart: Idiot. Completely fooled, aren’t you? You can’t taste the difference, can you? Stunned now? Frightened? Think you’re inferior to me? Did you genuinely believe I knew how to cook? This is hilarious. Fooling you is practically effortless.
With feigned anticipation, Ke Bu asked, “Well? Is it good?”
Zhi Li raised his head. The slight curve of his lips formed a captivating shape. What sort of expression could appear so flawless on that beautiful face? His deep eyes captured Ke Bu’s gaze. It was too underhanded of him to use such an expression. Zhi Li tilted his head slightly and looked at Ke Bu, his voice like fingers lightly playing the piano keys inside Ke Bu’s chest. “Because you made it, it would be difficult for me not to like it.”
Ke Bu had never imagined that receiving praise would feel this way. He stared blankly and clutched the fabric over his chest, where his heart was pounding wildly. He suddenly understood how Zhou Xin He felt whenever Zhi Li praised her, though his feelings were even more intense. Those words soothed the restless anxiety born from his desire to treat Zhi Li well without knowing where to direct it. Only one thought remained in his mind: Learn. Pour every drop of passion you possess into learning how to cook.
Now, who was the fool, and who was willingly deceived into a daze?
Satan’s sweet words are dangerous and wicked. When they are whispered beside your ear, prepare to fall into hell—lower and lower, faster and faster, seducing a soul that surrenders willingly.
Next
Futile Devices Scans 
Leave a comment