Saturday mornings were never as rushed as weekdays.

No school meant sleeping till noon was perfectly acceptable.

Guilt-free. Fearless.

A truly leisurely morning.

By nine AM, sunlight had flooded every street and alley. Uninvited, it streamed through the window, glinting off the steaming black pot on the stove. The iron pot radiated steady, dependable warmth under the sun’s gaze.

Nangong Shiyu watched the boiling water, then fetched two portions of dried noodles from the fridge. He dropped them into the pot, stirring gently with chopsticks until they softened and sank. Only then did he cover the pot, waiting quietly for the noodles to cook.

He’d bought these ingredients yesterday at the roadside supermarket. Too exhausted to go out today, he’d stocked up for a lazy Saturday indoors—planning to hit the wet market Sunday for the week’s groceries. Supermarket veggies cost more than market prices. Though his parents sent generous allowances, splurging felt wasteful. Shiyu preferred thrift. After all, it wasn’t his own money. His parents worked far away; he hadn’t seen them in years. But he’d grown used to this life over the past nine years. No problem at all.

Sometimes, though, he wondered: was this independence admirable or pitiable? Others’ opinions didn’t matter. Outsiders saw so little when they judged.

White foam soon bubbled at the pot’s rim. Shiyu lifted the lid, let the trapped steam escape, then covered it again. Waiting.

Skipping the lid worked fine, but trapping steam sped things up—a crucial trick for school-day mornings.

After a few lid lifts, he turned off the gas. Scooping the noodles into a strainer, he transferred them to prepped broth. Basic noodles, done.

But Saturday deserved more than plain noodles.

Before boiling water, he’d stir-fried a small bowl of fragrant green pepper and pork. Dividing it evenly between two noodle bowls, he finally called out:

"Sorry to keep you waiting! Breakfast is served."

Bowing deeply at the dining table, he presented the bowls to Xia Zixin.

"Please enjoy your meal, Miss Xia."

"Hard work pays off~ Rise, Chef Nangong. Dine with your elder sister." Xia Zixin played along, grinning.

"Your grace overwhelms me! You shine like a blooming sunflower—warm, radiant, lighting hearts! To share breakfast with you? Such honor!"

"Pfft—enough theatrics! Eat already." She waved him down, chopsticks in hand.

"Your imperial decree is my command."

"Since when did your rank jump so high?" She snorted, lifting her bowl. "Making me smile is your life’s mission, is it?"

"Flattery won’t fill your stomach. Eat!" She buried her face in the noodles. "Mmm... better than yesterday’s."

"The invincible power of green pepper pork!" Shiyu swept his chopsticks in a grand circle, then struck a dramatic pose—arms wide as if embracing the sun.

"Pfft—stop talking or I’ll choke!"

"Fine, fine." He sat, chuckling, and joined her in slurping noodles.

*What a peaceful morning*, Shiyu thought.

Sunlight on his skin, noodles on his tongue, phone scrolling in his free hand—life felt effortlessly sweet.

He hadn’t felt this content in ages.

Then he realized why.

*No homework this Saturday.*

He’d missed all of Friday due to... unforeseen circumstances. No call from his homeroom teacher meant no clue about weekend assignments. Scrolling through the class chat, he saw only complaints and game screenshots. High school games bored him now—same old grind.

Higher up, a thread caught his eye: classmates debating whether to deliver his homework. Some argued he should rest; others worried about Monday’s scolding. Shiyu’s chest warmed—until he saw the last message:

**[Dashing Otaku] Luo Qitian:** I’ll take the test papers home after school. Dropping them at Shiyu’s place tomorrow morning.

*Luo Qitian’s coming here? Today?*

*Can’t I just enjoy one lazy weekend?*

A knock shattered his thoughts. A familiar voice called through the door:

"Shiyu? Home?"