The soft ringing of a bell echoed in Su Yue’s mind.
Frowning slightly, she reached out toward the nightstand and picked up her phone. The glowing screen lit up the darkness around her, and the time displayed was exactly 10:00 PM.
She blinked.
At this hour, Jiang Ci were still awake… So why was he angry?
Closing her eyes again, Su Yue tried to steady her breathing. A dull ache throbbed faintly in her head—still bearable, yet persistent. The bell inside her mind hadn’t stopped; it chimed softly, like an irritating mosquito buzzing by her ear.
She knew the reason all too well.
The headache and the ringing were both connected to one thing—Jiang Ci’s emotional state. More specifically, his anger.
The more furious he became, the louder the bell rang in her head. The sharper the ache. It was as if his anger manifested directly into her suffering. And she didn’t know what would happen if his anger ever hit 100%.
Would she… die from the pain?
Thankfully, tonight the anger level was just a mere 1. The bell, though annoying, was still manageable. Like an itch you could ignore if you tried hard enough.
Putting her phone back on the table, Su Yue closed her eyes and forced herself to fall asleep again.
The next morning, the sky was still wrapped in a thin mist. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the horizon, casting warm golden hues across the garden. The morning dew clung to the leaves like glass pearls, shimmering under the sunlight. Birds chirped melodiously from the branches, and every now and then, the sound of flapping wings broke the serenity.
The world was just beginning to wake.
In the kitchen, the gentle clatter of pots and pans disturbed the calm.
When Su Jindong came downstairs, he saw Sister-in-Law Hua standing awkwardly by the kitchen door, looking troubled.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, puzzled.
“Sir… the young miss… she’s inside the kitchen.” Sister Hua’s voice trembled slightly.
She had originally come to prepare breakfast, only to be greeted by the shocking sight of the young lady busily cooking.
Having worked in the Su household for over a decade, Sister Hua had watched Su Yue grow up with her own eyes. Mr. and Mrs. Su were both gentle and loving parents, and they had raised their daughter with utmost care and indulgence. So much so, that Su Yue never had to lift a finger. Even a glass of water was fetched for her. She was a true pampered young miss—her slender fingers had never even brushed against spring water, let alone touched a knife or stove.
And now, seeing her inside the kitchen?
Sister Hua had genuinely thought she was hallucinating.
Su Jindong’s brows furrowed as he strode toward the kitchen. The moment he stepped inside and saw his daughter there, dressed in her soft home clothes, busy preparing breakfast—his steps halted.
He was stunned.
And then, his expression darkened.
“Yueyue?”
Su Yue turned around quickly at the sound of his voice. “Dad, good morning!”
Her voice was soft and cheerful, with no trace of guilt.
“Are you… making breakfast?” Su Jindong’s handsome face twisted with disbelief.
“Mm-hmm, it’ll be ready soon,” Su Yue replied naturally.
Su Jindong’s heart sank.
“There’s no need for you to do this!” he said, barely holding back his temper. His voice was tight, but his eyes were filled with pain. “As I thought… the Jiang family has been mistreating you, haven’t they? They even made you cook!”
Watching his daughter skillfully handle the kitchen utensils, Su Jindong’s anger rose like a tide. His fists clenched at his sides, and he had to force himself not to storm over to the Jiang household this instant.
Su Yue froze. Then, seeing the deep concern in her father’s eyes, she hurriedly said, “Dad, no, no—you’re misunderstanding!”
“Misunderstanding?” Su Jindong’s voice rose a pitch. “You used to be the center of our universe. Your mother and I pampered you like a pearl in our palms. You never had to lift a finger. And now, you’ve only been married for six months, and not only have you lost weight, but you’re also in the kitchen cooking?! Is the Jiang family bankrupt? They’re making you serve yourself now?”
The more he thought about it, the more enraged he became.
Su Yue didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Yet deep in her heart, she was moved.
This… this was the love of a father—so raw and fierce. He couldn’t bear to see his daughter suffer even a little. His love, though awkward and explosive, wrapped around her like a protective shield.
Feeling warm inside, Su Yue blinked, her lips curling into a small smile. She walked over and tugged on her father’s arm gently. “Daddy, don’t be mad. You know me—if I didn’t want to do something, could anyone force me?”
She chuckled. “I just… I recently discovered that I have a hidden talent for cooking! It’s surprisingly fun. This has nothing to do with the Jiang family. I did this purely because I wanted to.”
Su Jindong looked at her, clearly suspicious.
Su Yue had no choice but to double down. “Really, I’m telling the truth! If I were being mistreated, you’d be the first person I’d come to. I’d cry until you took me back home.”
It took quite a bit of coaxing before Su Jindong’s expression softened.
Seeing his face finally ease, Su Yue sighed in relief. Then she added playfully, “I’ve never done anything for you or Mom since I was little. Let me make you a breakfast today—just once. Later, you’ll have to try it and tell me how I did.”
His heart melted.
His Yueyue had grown up.
“Alright,” he said, smiling proudly. “My daughter’s cooking must be the best. I’ll finish every bite.”
“Then you wait outside for a while. It’ll be ready soon,” Su Yue grinned.
“Okay, but be careful in there,” he added, still worried. “Don’t burn yourself.”
“I won’t,” Su Yue assured him with a laugh.
When Fang Ru came downstairs, she was greeted by the rare sight of her husband sitting at the table with a bright smile.
“What’s got you so happy this early?” she asked curiously.
“Ruru, you’re up.” Su Jindong stood up and pulled out a chair for her like a gentleman, pouring her a glass of milk.
“Our daughter is making breakfast for me today. Isn’t that enough reason to be over the moon?” he said, pride practically spilling from his voice. “She used to be this tiny soft ball, and now she’s cooking for her father…”
“Yueyue? Making breakfast?” Fang Ru was so surprised that she nearly dropped the glass.
“Who’s cooking breakfast?” Another voice chimed in.
Su Zhi strolled in with his school bag slung lazily over one shoulder. He flung it onto the chair and sprawled into the seat with a stretch, his tall figure relaxed and casual. “Morning, Mom, Dad.”
Then he peered toward the kitchen.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
“Am I still dreaming? Is that my sister… in the kitchen?”
“Yueyue is making breakfast for me,” Su Jindong replied smugly.
“My sister, cooking?” Su Zhi’s expression was dramatic. “Dad, should I call an ambulance just in case something catches fire?”
“You brat.” Su Jindong glared at him. “Then don’t you dare eat a single bite later.”
Su Zhi clutched his chest with mock sincerity. “Thank you for sparing me, Father.”
Su Jindong rolled his eyes at his son just as Su Yue came out from the kitchen carrying a tray.
“Miss, let me help you.” Sister Hua rushed forward in a flurry, clearly overwhelmed by the sight.
“There’s more in the kitchen. Sister Hua, could you help me bring out the rest?” Su Yue said sweetly.
That gentle tone… It was the first time Sister Hua had heard such warmth from the young lady. She was so moved she nearly teared up.
“Yes, yes! Right away!” she replied, almost breathlessly.
“Sis, did you really make all this yourself?” Su Zhi leaned forward, staring at the delicately plated mini buns on the table.
“Don’t look down on me,” Su Yue huffed proudly. “Do the ones they sell outside look this good?”
She wasn’t bragging either. Her cooking skills had always been top-notch. In the past, she’d often been stuck in hotel rooms with nothing to do and had studied countless culinary books for fun. With talent and hard work, how could she not excel?
“My daughter is amazing,” Fang Ru praised with a glowing smile. “She’s not just beautiful, but she can even cook!”
She picked up one of the small buns. Even before taking a bite, the fragrant aroma wafted to her nose.
This breakfast… was filled with love.“Sister… this thing might look nice on the outside, but the inside…” Su Zhi’s expression twisted with visible distress, as if he were bracing himself for a disaster. No matter how much he doted on his sister, the sight of her questionable culinary creation gave him genuine pause. His love, after all, could only go so far when faced with potential dark cuisine.
Su Jindong calmly pulled the plate away from Su Zhi and toward himself and his wife. “Brat, if you don’t want it, don’t touch it.”
Fang Ru took a bite of a soft, golden steamed bun. The moment her teeth sank into it, tender filling burst forth with savory juice, spreading warmth across her tongue. Her eyes lit up in surprise. “Yueyue, what did you put in these? They taste amazing.”
“I used lean meat, shiitake mushrooms, finely chopped greens, and a little dried shrimp.” Su Yue’s tone was casual, but her face held a trace of proud satisfaction. Shiitake mushrooms naturally had a strong aroma, and her buns were bite-sized, with a thin skin and chewy texture. The moment one bit into them, the umami flavor and just the right touch of saltiness filled the mouth—rich, fragrant, and utterly addictive.
“And this one has crab roe?”
Su Jindong bit into the other variety and was instantly greeted by a rush of crab roe essence. It spread across his palate like molten gold—rich yet not greasy, indulgent yet comforting. He had mentally prepared himself to lie through his teeth this morning, planning to praise whatever his daughter cooked regardless of taste. But to his surprise… there was no need for pretense. It was genuinely delicious.
“I made two kinds of fillings. Are they good?” Su Yue asked expectantly.
Su Jindong stuffed the last bun into his mouth without hesitation and raised his thumb at her, beaming. “Delicious. Absolutely delicious. My daughter is amazing!”
“Is it really that good?” Su Zhi’s curiosity got the better of him as he watched both parents gobbling away. He reached out toward the plate. “Let me try one—”
But before his fingers could grasp a bun, Su Jindong batted his hand away.
“Go on, get out of here. You want to eat buns? Go buy your own breakfast. These were made specially for me and your mom.”
Then, with a dramatic pivot, Su Jindong turned to his wife and lovingly held up a different bun to her lips. “Ruru, this one’s got a different filling. Try this one too.” His tone softened by several degrees, filled with pampering.
Su Zhi was left staring blankly, stunned by his father’s blatant favoritism. He looked at Su Yue with a pitiful pair of peach blossom eyes, sulking. “Sister, I was wrong, okay? I had no idea I was in the presence of a culinary genius. Please let me try one… I really want to eat your buns!”
Su Yue chuckled softly. “There’s still more. I’ll get you one.”
“I knew you were the best sister in the world.”
Su Zhi took a bite, and the next second, his eyes went wide. It was as if flavor itself had exploded on his tongue. “Sister! You’re incredible!” He was genuinely shocked. The sister he remembered from just a few days ago was pampered, delicate, and more likely to lounge on the sofa than stand in the kitchen. She had always acted more spoiled than even their mother.
But now?
She’d completely transformed.
He stuffed the rest of the bun into his mouth in a flash and polished off three in rapid succession.
“Sister, you’ve been hiding your talents all this time!”
“I told you not to underestimate me earlier.” Su Yue reached out and tapped her brother’s forehead with a mock snort of arrogance, eyes twinkling with mischief.
She could feel it—this growing warmth, this sense of belonging. Slowly, bit by bit, she was becoming part of this family in the truest sense.
Just then, Fang Ru’s eyes landed on a delicate cake that Mrs. Hua had just brought out. “Is this mango cake? Yueyue, you made a cake too?” She sounded genuinely surprised. A cake in the morning wasn’t the most common choice—it was heavy, high in sugar, and not the best thing to start the day with.
Su Yue lowered her eyes slightly. “I made it because I had time.”
Truthfully, she’d woken up early out of habit and begun baking without thinking. Midway through, she’d realized she didn’t need to make a mango cake anymore. This was home now, not a place where she had to please anyone.
But old habits die hard.
And somewhere deep in her head, that familiar, faint bell echoed again.
Still, Su Yue made no move to appease Jiang Ci. If the bell kept ringing, then let it. It no longer mattered. He had let her go so easily, so why should she care now?
The sound of that bell? Just background noise at this point.
“This cake is so beautiful,” Su Jindong said suddenly. “Sister Hua, wrap it up for me. I’ll take it to the office and have it with lunch.” As a father, it was a point of pride to eat every single thing his daughter made.
Su Zhi, with his cheeks still full of steamed bun, protested through stuffed cheeks. “Dad! You can’t hog all the cake—give me half!”
In the quiet villa on the other side of town—
A young maid moved with caution as she laid breakfast on the table, her every step filled with nerves. She mentally repeated the head butler’s instructions like a mantra:
Do not approach Young Master Jiang Ci directly.
Do not wear perfume—he dislikes strange scents.
Do not raise your voice—he only tolerates calm tones.
Do not touch him—especially his hands.
And do not, under any circumstance, forget the mango cake.
The last maid who had failed that final task had been dismissed without a word.
“Master Jiang Ci, breakfast is ready.” The maid bowed her head and quietly retreated to the side after neatly arranging everything.
Jiang Haoyan came toddling over, hugging coriander tightly in his small arms. He carefully set the cat down beside the chair before climbing up himself. Sitting upright with his little legs dangling, he greeted his father sweetly, “Daddy, morning.”
The rash on Jiang Ci’s face had subsided, but the long scar running down the left side of his face made his already sharp features appear more severe, even intimidating. His cool black eyes shifted toward his son. “Morning.”
Xiao Haohao clutched a spoon in his chubby hand. His eyes fell on the mango cake on the table, and though it was one of his favorite foods, he couldn’t help but frown. It looked nice, but it lacked the cute little decorations the “bad woman” used to make. Somehow, it didn’t feel the same.
When was she coming back?
He counted on his fingers—she had been gone for a whole day.
“Bring me the pillow on the floor to the bed,” Jiang Ci’s low voice suddenly broke the silence.
“Huh?” The maid froze, unsure if she had heard him correctly.
Pillow?
Jiang Ci’s voice grew colder, more impatient. “The pillow on the ground. Was that hard to understand?”
“N-no, sir.” She lifted her eyes slightly, and the moment she caught a glimpse of Jiang Ci’s face, her breath hitched. She quickly lowered her gaze again and moved to follow his command.
She scanned the room and finally spotted a soft pink pillow partially hidden under the coffee table. Reaching out, she tried to pull it free—but it was stuck. She tugged harder.
Rip—
A harsh sound tore through the silence as the edge of the pillow snagged on a nail beneath the table, leaving a long gash on the pink surface.
The maid trembled, her face drained of color. Holding the pillow in both hands, she turned toward Jiang Ci, her voice cracking. “Young Master Jiang… I found the pillow, but… it… it was scratched…”
“Give it here.”
“I-I didn’t mean to! The fabric tore when I pulled it out. There was a nail underneath—!”
The room fell into an eerie silence.
Xiao Haohao clutched his spoon tighter and kept his eyes on his porridge. He didn’t make a sound.
The maid’s hand trembled violently. To her, the pillow felt as heavy as a blade drawn against her own neck.
Finally, Jiang Ci let out a cold chuckle. “Throw it away.”
“…Throw it away?” The maid blinked, stunned. She’d assumed this pillow was something precious to him.
“You think I’d keep trash like that?” His voice was laced with disdain.
“N-no,” the maid mumbled and scurried out, cradling the ruined pillow as if it might explode in her arms.
The moment she left, Haohao raised his head. He pouted slightly and said in a soft voice, “Daddy, that was her pillow.”
It was pink. Dad’s was gray. He remembered clearly.
“If she comes back and sees you threw it away…” He blinked his big round eyes and lowered his voice further, “…she’ll get mad.”
Jiang Ci snorted. “Let her.”
Haohao tilted his head in confusion. “But if she’s mad, she won’t make mango cake for you anymore.”
No more mango cake…
Dad really didn’t know how to think ahead. Haohao sighed inwardly. He was too young to be dealing with two clueless adults.
Jiang Ci’s expression faltered for a moment.
Then, as if trying to cover it up, he let out a lazy scoff. “She’s not the only one who knows how to make mango cake.” He picked up the slice beside him with his long fingers, scooped out a large spoonful, and stuffed it into his mouth with casual indifference.
But as the taste hit his tongue, his expression twisted almost instantly.
His brows furrowed, his jaw tightened—and a look of deep dissatisfaction slowly crept over his face.
No, it wasn’t the same at all.
It was just a cake. So why did it feel so… wrong?