Chapter Thirty-One: To Bind the Heart, One Must First Bind the Stomach

Su Xue’s cooking wasn’t bad—at least you could swallow it and keep it down. She and Chu Jun had already left, leaving Wang Zheng alone on the sofa, his body rigid, eyes fixed on the television where a commercial flickered by, the only signs of life being the occasional blink and the slow movement of his throat as he swallowed.

Now, Wang Zheng finally understood why, when he’d asked Chu Jun about Su Xue’s culinary skills, Chu Jun had both shaken and nodded his head. It was a talent that left you dizzy and disoriented, unable to tell east from west.

Remembering the fridge now stuffed to the brim with Su Xue’s leftovers, Wang Zheng suddenly felt his stomach churning, something rising uncontrollably from his gut, up his esophagus, until it caught in his throat—

Sourness.

He forced it down again. Who knew how many times he’d done so already tonight. It seemed his stomach was violently protesting the evening’s meal, the digestive juices refusing to process the food.

At that moment, Bai Bing emerged from the kitchen and sat beside him, a steaming cup of instant noodles in her hand.

“There’s one more pack. If you want to eat, make it yourself,” she said, glancing at Wang Zheng’s sallow, waxen face. At dinner, she’d only taken a bite before excusing herself to answer a phone call, after which she hadn’t reappeared. By the time Su Xue left, it was too late to order takeout, so she’d gone out and bought two packs of instant noodles from the corner store.

“My stomach’s already crammed with all kinds of things, and it’s still trying to come back up. You expect me to…” Wang Zheng began.

“Don’t say it. Don’t— You’ll make me sick. I still have to eat these noodles!” Bai Bing interrupted him quickly. Any further and who could say what disgusting things might come out of his mouth—or worse, out of his stomach.

“All that food your sister bought is ruined, not a scrap left. I’m telling you, hurry up and finish whatever’s in the fridge. If it starts to mix flavors with the rest, we’ll have to toss the whole thing,” Bai Bing said as she slurped her noodles.

Wang Zheng sat silently on the sofa, his gaze dull and unfocused. Watching Bai Bing eat, he suddenly remembered the days just after returning from Africa, when he’d stayed at her place. Despite his annoyance with her, he couldn’t deny that she was an excellent cook. Especially after eating Su Xue’s meal, this was the first time in his life he actively missed Bai Bing’s dinners.

Heaven was indeed fair—it gave Bai Bing a contradictory exterior and heart, but also gifted her with real culinary skill!

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“Bai Bing, I was wrong!” Wang Zheng said suddenly, his expression earnest, his tone sincere.

She was in the middle of eating and froze, staring at him in confusion, not noticing the noodles slipping from her chopsticks to the floor. In fact, she was stunned by his words.

‘Is this man… apologizing to me?’

“Wha…what did you say?” Bai Bing stammered, her brain still stalled. Wang Zheng, apologizing? For her, this was as shocking as Mars colliding with Earth.

“Bai Bing, I’ve always picked on you, thought you were useless. But today, I finally discovered your merit. There’s only one, but it’s enough to completely change my impression of you!” Wang Zheng looked at her, his voice rising and falling with emotion, every word and sentence filled with a strange depth of feeling, his eyes shimmering as if the Yellow River had burst its banks, impossible to control. Bai Bing was so startled she stood up and backed away five paces, holding her noodles in one hand and chopsticks in the other, watching Wang Zheng warily, as if he were reciting poetry.

“What…what are you trying to do? Don’t you dare try anything,” she warned, poised for battle.

Seeing her on high alert, Wang Zheng sprang to his feet, making Bai Bing jump and adopt a defensive stance, determined not to let him tarnish her reputation.

Wang Zheng began to approach, and Bai Bing retreated further. Suddenly, she raised her noodles threateningly. “Don’t come any closer! One more step and I’ll take you down with me!”

To her surprise, just as she shouted, Wang Zheng abruptly turned and headed to his room. Before Bai Bing could relax, he hurried back out, now holding a bag.

“I had a feeling before Xiao Xue started cooking, so I hid a little something away. Turns out my instincts were right!” Wang Zheng declared, displaying the contents to Bai Bing.

A small piece of meat, some shrimp, two eggs, two eggplants, three cucumbers.

Bai Bing’s eyes lit up at the sight. Who would choose instant noodles when there were fresh ingredients? Looking at Wang Zheng’s hopeful face, Bai Bing realized they were thinking exactly the same thing.

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In the days they’d spent together, the two had clashed countless times, but this was their first moment of true understanding, the first time they’d shared a common thought—one of many firsts worth remembering. And all because of a meal Su Xue had cooked.

Or, perhaps, because of a chemical experiment she’d conducted herself!

Wang Zheng stood over the toilet, vomiting endlessly, the sizzling sounds from the kitchen ringing in his ears. Such a beautiful sound—like music from heaven. Why had he never noticed it before?

“It’s ready! If you’re going to keep throwing up, I’ll eat first!” Bai Bing called loudly from outside the bathroom, then carried her plate to the dining room.

“I’m done, I’m done! Wait for me!” Wang Zheng rinsed his mouth and rushed out. He’d used every method he could think of to empty his stomach—if he hadn’t, he seriously doubted he’d be able to get out of bed tomorrow.

A plate of eggplant with minced meat, a plate of cucumber salad, a plate of scrambled eggs with shrimp—small portions, but the aroma made Wang Zheng’s mouth water more than anything he’d ever tasted. Unable to wait, he grabbed a shrimp and popped it into his mouth. Ah—pure bliss!

From hell to heaven, at last!

If you want to win a man’s heart, you must first win his stomach—how true those words are. Especially for Wang Zheng, who had suffered for eight years in Africa, a woman who could cook was worth her weight in gold. He was not demanding: healthy, ordinary, and able to make a couple of simple dishes for a drink—that was enough.

Some dishes, no matter how well made in restaurants, just don’t taste right. Some, no matter how humble, only feel special when eaten at home. Like New Year’s Eve dinner—it only feels right when you’re home.

‘Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let her stay here,’ Wang Zheng thought to himself.