CHAPTER 152: CHAPTER 152; WE DID?

"We did? Haha... But why are you here now? Did I invite you over?" Yueyao tilted her head, absently aligning her bangs to the back of her ear, her innocence jarring against the heavy atmosphere.

"That’s my Uncle..." Fang Lin finally whispered, glancing at Shuren who was gazing at them.

"My husband is your uncle?" Yueyao’s eyes widened in a mocking surprise. "How come you never told me? Well then, welcome to our home!" She cheerfully looped an arm around Fang Lin’s shoulder and tugged her toward the kitchen, leaving everyone behind with a shocked expression.

Jin Shuren, watching the two women disappear, felt the strange tug of jealousy twist low in his chest. His gaze lingered on the kitchen doorway long after Yueyao’s laughter faded down the hallway.

A warm laughter from her in this house was all he ever dreamed of. His jaw flexed, a warning ripple beneath his calm exterior.

He turned back to the virtual meeting that was going on. "Continue."

The men in the virtual meeting stiffened, papers rustling nervously as they pretended nothing had happened.

Not a single word was spoken about the woman who had casually perched on their master’s lap. No one dared to word it out. Their boss’s silence was more terrifying than his rage.

Shuren leaned back, his fingers steepled before him, but his mind betrayed him, drifting toward the sound of clinking glass from the kitchen.

It was a foreign softness threaded through the sharp edges of his thoughts, a softness he loved, and could not let go.

— — — — —

"Madam, what do you want? We can do it for you!" The servants who were in the kitchen hurriedly bowed their heads nervous and respectful.

"Would I come into the kitchen if I needed your assistance?" Yueyao gazed at them as she walked into the kitchen. The servants hurriedly shook their heads.

The servants dared not lift their eyes, shuffling anxiously as Yueyao moved past them.

Her presence alone seemed to fill the room, pressing against the smoky air of simmering pots and the fragrance of spices.

She stopped before the chopping block, her slender fingers brushing over the worn wood as if testing its surface.

"I want to prepare something for my husband," Yueyao said softly, though her tone brooked no argument... "Or is he your husband? Shouldn’t I make something for him, or do you think you are the mistress of the house?"

The words struck like a blade hidden in silk, piercing them deeper into the core, cold and slicing.

The servants froze where they stood, their faces draining of color. No one dared breathe too loudly, let alone respond.

Yueyao’s gaze swept over them, calm but piercing, until one of the older maids, with her lips trembling, lowered herself to her knees.

"N-no, Madam, none of us would dare! You are the mistress of this house. We... we only serve Madam..."

The servants exchanged bewildered glances, unsure if they should stay or leave.

One of the younger girls stammered after gathering some courage, "M-Madam, His Lordship would not.... He will blame....."

Her hands moved with fluid precision, and soon the rhythm of the knife ceased. Yueyao set it aside and reached for the basket of ripe oranges resting at the corner of the table.

The servants glanced at one another nervously. Oranges, simple and sweet, yet in her hands, even something so ordinary felt charged with meaning.

She rolled one across her palm, testing its weight, then pressed it firmly against the board. The blade sank in with a clean slice, releasing a fresh, citrus fragrance that spread through the kitchen, sharp and bright, cutting through the heaviness of the air.

Yueyao worked in silence, cutting, squeezing, and straining with the same unhurried elegance she had shown while wielding the knife. The golden juice poured steadily into a porcelain jug, glistening like molten sunlight under the lantern light.

Fang Lin, standing by the side, watched Yueyao work it out; her knife skills looked top-notch.

"Take these bags upstairs and clean Yueqin’s lunch box." She passed the bags to one of the servants and immediately emptied the big before taking them upstairs.

"Yueyao, let me help you..." Fang Lin walked over, getting closer to her, but Yueyao nudged her to the side and had her sit down on the counter seat.

"Lin Lin... Look at your soft hands, don’t make them coarse... I will definitely make a cup of juice for you." She gazed around, checking the place, "You should have waited in the dining room, this place has oil and stinks of food aroma, not good for your health."

Fang Lin blinked at her, momentarily stunned. Yueyao’s voice wasn’t harsh, but the firmness behind her words left no room for refusal.

"...But I don’t mind helping," Fang Lin murmured, though she obediently settled on the counter seat, folding her hands on her lap like a chastised child.

Yueyao pressed another orange against the juicer, her slender wrists flexing with practiced ease.

The liquid flowed smoothly into the jug, releasing waves of freshness that softened the greasy tang of oil hanging in the kitchen.

"You don’t mind," Yueyao said calmly, her gaze fixed on the task before her, "but I do mind. Lin Lin, you are not meant to do work like this. A person’s hands show their life. Yours should remain soft."

Her words were quiet, almost tender, yet they carried an undertone Fang Lin couldn’t quite place. Something both protective... and a little bit possessive.

The younger woman tilted her head, studying Yueyao’s profile as the window light traced her calm features. "Yueyao... you also shouldn’t be in the kitchen since we have workers here!" Fang Lin felt speechless and, at the same time, lost.

Yueyao’s hand paused ever so slightly on the handle of the juicer. She didn’t look up, "Lin Lin, I have a husband and child, how can I lurk around?"

Fang Lin’s breath caught at the sudden firmness in Yueyao’s tone. The way she said husband and child carried a weight that made Fang Lin’s chest tighten, though she couldn’t explain why.