Sweet Wife in My Arms

Chapter 742: He Knows How to Make Soup

For in the darkness, no one will know that she’s sad and crying.

Darkness had become her best sanctuary, where she felt the safest. As to the question of whether she was still afraid of ghosts, she could now confidently answer no; because she herself was a ghost that had crawled out from hell. Also, in this world, humans are far scarier than ghosts.

She switched on the light, slipped out of her draggled clothes, and took a shower. Then, she went into the kitchen and made herself a bowl of ginger soup. She had been drinking ginger soup for a long time. The nanny used to make it for her whenever the weather was cold, or after she had been in the rain. If the nanny wasn’t around, Lu Yi would pick up the slack.

It was more effective and less harmful than medicines, but it had a nasty tang.

With the bowl of soup in her hands, she sat down before her computer and switched it on. She checked out the latest news while sipping on her soup. There wasn’t anything noteworthy, but the entertainment industry had always had its fair share of interesting gossip. She had seen, and been the center of many of those herself, but that was in the past. Now, she was a spectator who found amusement in such news.

Su Muran had rarely appeared in public view ever since she had robbed her of her Best Actress Award. Lu Qin, on the other hand, had been quite active as of late, taking on interviews after interviews, variety shows after variety shows. Ever since the success of The Aster Flower, his popularity had skyrocketed. The problem was, none of the films he had been offered roles lately were good. Neither was he likely to accept roles from bad films, which could end up destroying the positive image he had worked so hard for.

That was when Yan Huan’s phone began to ring. She picked it up and answered the call.

“I’ve got something to tell you,” said Luo Lin, cutting to the chase. She didn’t care where she was or what she was doing, as long as she was alive. Anyway, she trusted that Yan Huan wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill herself before the old Lu couple passes. That was her responsibility.

“Go on,” said Yan Huan. She touched the empty bowl. It was still warm, even after she had drunk all the soup.

“Lu Qin wants to be casted in our new drama,” said Luo Lin, occasionally tapping her pen against the table. “We have two dramas in the planning, one Xianxia drama adapted from a web novel, and another modern drama. We have a lot of rookie actors at the moment, so we don’t have to worry about not having enough actors to cast, but Lu Qin and his manager came down yesterday.”

“He wants to be the male lead.”

“The male lead?” repeated Yan Huan, drawing her hand away from the bowl. Then, with a finger, she traced the exterior of the bowl. It was cold now. The heat had escaped, it would seem.

“How thick is his skin?”

“As thick as ever,” said Luo Lin, feeling an urge to laugh, but forgot how to. Ever since she became a career woman, she had forgotten how to laugh.

“If he wants to be the male lead,” said Yan Huan, “he’ll just have to go through me.”

A smile formed on her face, a smile colder than the freezing rain outside.

“Hmm…” frowned Luo Lin. “By that you mean…?”

“Direct him to me.”

“Oh,” said Luo Lin, comprehending. “I got it. I’ll relay him your exact words.”

He could have the male lead, as long as Yan Huan, who had the final say, approved.

But before that, he had to find Yan Huan first. With Yan Huan’s current nomadic lifestyle, the only one who could contact her was Luo Lin. Even Luo Lin did not know her current whereabouts. By the time Lu Qin finds her, the shooting would have already begun. Who would pay him any heed then?

It wasn’t hard to tell how much Yan Huan hated Lu Qin. The only time the man would have any chances of getting a favor from her was in his dreams.

Yan Huan put down her phone, thinking that she might have to extend her disappearance. She wasn’t afraid of Lu Qin; she was only afraid that she wouldn’t be able to hold it in and puke on his revolting face.

And the thought of him tossing and turning in agony at the loss of a great opportunity made her happy.

Building her joy on the pain of others. She knew how to do it now.

Of course, she had to thank Lu Qin and Su Muran for teaching her the art.

She watched the television for a little longer before preparing for bed. She liked the small city; she liked exploring every alley of it on her bike, watching people laugh and cry and quarrel.

Laughing, crying, and quarreling…they sum up life perfectly.

In truth, she wasn’t living in self-abandonment. Rather, she was on a self-searching journey, so that she could return a better person and take better care of Lu Jin and Ye Shuyun.

Meanwhile, in a house far away from Yan Huan’s rented apartment.

Jiu Yue had an apron around him. Somehow, the 1.8m man with long limbs didn’t look out of place in the kitchen, where the air was permeated with the smell of raw ginger. It was a spicy smell, but not intolerable.

He scooped some soup into a bowl and brought it to the sofa, offering it to Sun Yuhan.

“Here. Drink this.”

Sun Yuhan took the bowl, but the smell made her ill.

“What is this? Why does it smell so bad?”

“Ginger soup,” said Jiu Yue, rising up. He went back into the kitchen and returned with another bowl of soup.

“I’ll drink it with you,” he said as he sat down across Sun Yuhan.

He put the bowl to his lips and began drinking untastingly, as though he was drinking plain water. He could remember how to make ginger soup, and how often he made it. They came to him as easily as his instincts.

Yet, he couldn’t remember who he was.

Not his name, his home, his family, not even his age! All he remembered was that his online ID was Jiu Yue. The skillset he remembered differed from normal people too; but one of his talents was, apparently, making soup.

Sun Yuhan wrinkled her nose and brought the bowl to her mouth, but nearly puked after one gulp.

“What on earth is this? It’s so spicy!”

“Ginger soup,” repeated Lu Yi.

Sun Yuhan stood up, raced to the kitchen, and poured the bowl’s content into the sink. She rinsed her mouth a few times, but could not get rid of the nauseating taste.

Jiu Yue, holding his bowl, knew what Sun Yuhan was doing. But he didn’t stop her. That was her own choice. If she fell sick, she would be the one suffering. Why end up having to eat medicine, when you could prevent getting sick just by drinking a bowl of harmless ginger soup?