Bento… Just the word stirred up a memory for Gu Chuan—one too painful to recall from not long ago.
An Qianmeng, eager to be the perfect girlfriend, had decided that making a bento for her boyfriend was one of her self-set benchmarks—like aiming at an invisible target.
Gu Chuan was forced to endure several agonizing days.
Mistaking salt for sugar, forgetting oil while stir-frying—child’s play to her. The truly terrifying dishes? Gu Chuan had long hypnotized himself into never remembering them.
After angrily tasting the bento Gu Chuan bluntly called “inedible,” An Qianmeng fell into a long, heavy silence.
From then on, she never brought him another bento—that clearly “self-humiliating” meal.
Instead, she openly used treating Gu Chuan to fancy dinners as an excuse for dates.
Gu Chuan still remembered his first time at a high-end restaurant. Strict dress code: formal attire only—suit and tie, no exceptions.
An Qianmeng wore an elegant gown, breathtakingly beautiful.
Gu Chuan, in a plain white shirt and black trousers, stood at the entrance, gazing at her inside. Between them stretched a distance like the Milky Way.
No magpie bridge existed—yet the Weaver Girl herself descended gracefully to earth.
Without hesitation, she took Gu Chuan’s hand just as he hesitated to retreat. Her radiant smile left an indelible mark on him.
No one dared stop her. Amid mocking, envious stares, she was a dream within reach.
But was a dream… truly just a dream?
…
If An Qianmeng’s status as his girlfriend justified bringing him bento…
…then why would Wen Tinghan suddenly make such an offer?
Gu Chuan lifted his gaze. Wen Tinghan’s stunning face—worthy of the word “breathtaking”—reignited his quiet astonishment.
How enviable that her family embraced such openness.
The fact that she sat at the table in women’s clothing without hesitation proved she likely wore it often.
Personal preference meant nothing to Gu Chuan. He’d never judge—or stare—over it. He respected her deeply.
Seeing his silence, Wen Tinghan quickly explained, voice trembling with shyness and nerves.
“W-Well… I heard you say, Chuan, that you never have time for breakfast…”
“Since I live so close to school… cooking for one or two is practically the same effort…”
She gently bit her lower lip, shimmering with a soft pink glow.
“So—I want to make a bento for you, Chuan!”
“As thanks for always taking such good care of me.”
“Is that… okay, Chuan…?”
She’d used every ounce of courage. Head bowed, she waited for his reply.
“Like this…”
Gu Chuan remained perplexed.
At that moment, Auntie chimed in with a warm smile, piling his bowl with food.
She gently placed the plumpest, juiciest chicken leg into his bowl.
“Here, Chuan. Build up your strength.”
“Auntie, really, it’s fine…”
“Just go along with Tinghan. It’s perfect.”
“Gu Chuan, I’ve heard how you’ve looked after my Tinghan at school. She’s shy, sensitive… not easy for her to find a true friend like you.”
“Friends helping each other is only natural.”
“Don’t worry! I’ll personally oversee Tinghan’s cooking. Guaranteed satisfaction!”
Wen Tinghan nodded obediently like a little lamb—
a gentle maiden from old tales, awaiting her parents’ word.
With mother and daughter having said their piece, refusal would’ve been awkward.
A flicker of embarrassment stirred… yet genuine warmth bloomed.
“Then… I’ll leave it to you, Tinghan.”
“If it ever feels like a burden, please tell me right away.”
“I can’t accept kindness without giving back. Auntie—school is on me. I’ll protect Tinghan.”
Gu Chuan licked his lips after biting into the tender chicken leg, patted his firm chest—
*thump… thump…*
Like a lovestruck girl’s heartbeat.
No one could resist the urge to bury themselves in that steadfast chest.
A youth both handsome and gallant.
Tenderness deepened in Wen Tinghan’s mother’s eyes. She hadn’t felt this happy in years.
This young man embodied her ideal son-in-law: upright, kind.
Grades? Irrelevant.
All she wished was for her daughter to find a good man—to live healthy, happy, whole.
“Then I leave her in your hands, Gu Chuan.”
The first “I leave it to you” came from Gu Chuan to Tinghan.
The second, from mother to Gu Chuan—carrying far deeper meaning.
Tinghan understood. Gu Chuan would, in time.
Dinner slipped by in warm harmony.
Gu Chuan, unusually, finished three full bowls. He patted his stomach, then glanced at them with faint embarrassment.
“Auntie, thank you for the meal. I should head home.”
“Your braised pork is legendary!”
The nourishing soup left him buzzing with energy—
as if he needed to unleash it on someone.
“Leaving already? Stay the night! Tinghan’s been afraid of the dark since childhood… You could share a room…”
Wen Tinghan flushed crimson, tugging her mother’s sleeve.
*Don’t… be so forward!*
Her mother shot her a subtle glare, sighing inwardly: *What a spineless child.*
As the saying goes: “A man chasing a woman climbs a mountain; a woman chasing a man lifts a veil.”
Love isn’t about thirty-six stratagems. For us women? One word: go for it!
A “hot commodity” like Gu Chuan—who knows how many shameless women are watching?
Care too much about pride, and you lose.
Opportunities belong to those who reach.
Yes, pies sometimes fall from the sky—but don’t die waiting for one.
“Thank you, Auntie… but I must go. My cat’s waiting to be fed.”
“Oh! I nearly forgot!” She hurried to the living room, transferred the three little fish from the bowl into a plastic bag, and returned to hand them to Gu Chuan.
“Your fish… Want some of Zai Zai’s toys or snacks for your cat?”
She asked warmly, ignoring the cat’s disgruntled meows.
“No, no—thank you, Auntie!”
“Zai Zai, come say goodbye!” Auntie scooped him up, waved his paw in a farewell gesture.
Zai Zai endured it all with an expression of utter despair.
