While chopping the beef into cubes, I boiled a pot of water. Then I blanched the pieces to wash away impurities and blood traces. Double-blanching also helps the beef absorb flavors better and improves its texture.

After a few minutes…

I scooped the beef out with a slotted spoon, set it aside to drain, and moved on to seasoning. Behind me, the rice cooker hummed steadily—once the rice was done, it’d switch to warm mode automatically. No worries there.

I grabbed a small bowl from the cabinet, rinsed it at the sink, and added seasonings one by one: light soy sauce, dark soy sauce, cooking wine, Chinese black vinegar… I won’t list exact amounts. Cooking’s one of the few skills I’m quietly proud of—honed through years of living alone.

They say a guy who can cook is never short on luck. It even wins girls over. I wonder if Senior would like it? If I get the chance, I’d love to invite her over—just for a simple meal! *Just* a meal! Don’t get any wrong ideas!

Of course, after dinner it’d be getting late. Not safe for a girl to walk home alone. And hey—I’ve got a guest room. Why *not* let her stay? Makes sense. *Totally* makes sense. Then we could discuss student council matters. Yes! Strictly business!

“Oops—too much cooking wine!” I snapped out of my daydream and capped the bottle fast.

Next, I pulled out small spice packets from the cabinet: star anise here, Sichuan peppercorns and dried chilies there. I used fewer chilies—Xiao Xian’s still a kid. She probably couldn’t handle super-spicy braised beef.

Truth is, *my* usual braised beef hits hard—even spice lovers blink. Not upfront heat. The kick seeps deep into the meat. Mild at first bite… then as you chew, warmth blooms, floods your mouth. After swallowing? Lingering heat, that gentle numbing tingle, rich aroma. I love spicy food—even when it brings tears.

But this meal’s for Xiao Xian. No room for my cravings. I dialed back *all* seasonings, kept everything mild.

I grabbed green onions and two garlic cloves from the fridge. A couple lemon slices would’ve been perfect—bright acidity cuts gaminess. Wait… I glanced inside. Leftover hot pot base from my last solo session. Labeled “extra-spicy.”

Huh. Feels a little lonely now. Isn’t there a saying? “What’s lonelier than eating hot pot alone?” Back then, though—I didn’t feel lonely at all. Actually… kinda enjoyed it. Next time, I’ll invite Senior. Make a yin-yang hot pot—one side spicy, one mild. Girls might not handle the heat.

Shaking off the thought, I turned back to the beef. Sauce was ready. Stir-fry the beef a few minutes, pour the sauce evenly over, keep stirring until fragrant.

*Ding!* The rice cooker beeped. Soon, fluffy steamed rice and sizzling braised beef would meet on the table.

Braised beef noodles?

Staring at the rich, aromatic beef—perfect color, scent, taste, that gentle kick—I suddenly lost my appetite.

(I really miss Mom’s braised beef… *sigh*)