Jiang Aiyu conceded defeat.

She figured dragging this out any longer might waste the whole night.

And that would ruin her rare free evening—she’d finally wrapped up a work phase and wanted to learn cooking.

“I’m your employer.”

Jiang Aiyu stepped aside, gesturing for Lu Chengzhou to enter.

“We’re on a tight schedule.”

Lu Chengzhou: “Huh?”

Something about this felt… off.

Like they were sneaking around doing something shady.

Inside, Jiang Aiyu closed the door and casually clicked the lock.

*Click.*

Lu Chengzhou’s heart jumped.

“What are you doing?!”

“To make sure you don’t run off halfway,” Jiang Aiyu said, dead serious.

“I… I’m not the prey here, am I?” Lu Chengzhou asked grimly.

“Mm. But you’re my teacher.”

She led him toward the kitchen, explaining as they walked.

“A teacher once fled mid-lesson. Cost me over fifty yuan.”

Technically a rich second-gen, but with a stingy dad like Jiang Heng? She didn’t live like one. Fifty yuan mattered.

Lu Chengzhou grew uneasy.

*Is she actually planning to cook me?*

Then he remembered—she was just a delicate girl. Maybe *she* was the one in danger.

Jiang Aiyu began sharpening the knife.

The act itself wasn’t scary.

It was her utterly blank expression while doing it.

She raised the blade and stepped closer.

Lu Chengzhou retreated until his elbow hit the metal rack.

*I look exactly like a lamb awaiting slaughter.*

“Stay calm, girl,” he finally managed.

*Thud—*

The knife plunged into the pumpkin behind him.

Lu Chengzhou stiffly turned.

“Teacher, please step aside,” Jiang Aiyu said, pointing. “I need that pumpkin.”

…

Standing up, Lu Chengzhou wondered: *Did she aim for the pumpkin… or me?*

No grudges between them. Probably not him. Right?

Jiang Aiyu skillfully diced the pumpkin. Lu Chengzhou watched.

“How much starch for a pumpkin this size?”

“How much sugar?”

“How long to knead the dough?”

“Which oil—soybean, olive, or blend?”

Question after question.

Lu Chengzhou silently noted them, then asked for paper and pen to write everything down.

“Making pumpkin cakes?”

“Mm.” She wiped the knife, tone light. “For my fiancé.”

Lu Chengzhou: “…”

*If she pulled this on her fiancé, he’d bolt on the spot.*

Thankfully, his nerves were steel.

*Is the constant knife-wiping… for real?*

Jiang Aiyu glanced at him, puzzled. “Teacher? Something wrong?”

“Nope.” He handed her the note. “Next step: knead the dough.”

*Respect your employer. Keep unsolicited thoughts to yourself. That’s how you survive.*

Lu Chengzhou firmly believed this.

“Hnn… Hah…”

“Mmm…”

“Hah…”

Jiang Aiyu kneaded with all her might.

They each held a dough ball; he demonstrated even pressure.

She watched intently, nodding.

Her earnest focus was infinitely cuter than her knife-sharpening face.

Lu Chengzhou stole glances. *That contrast… genuinely cute.*

His mind wandered—a few dents appeared on his dough.

“Teacher,” Jiang Aiyu said, perfectionist-mode activated. “You dented yours.”

He subtly reshaped it. *Yep. No zoning out during serious work.*

“Alright, next step.”

While oil heated, Jiang Aiyu grabbed a chilled soda from the fridge, took a sip, and handed it to him.

Lu Chengzhou accepted—then froze.

*She already drank from it!*

*Boundaries! Indirect kiss!*

“You not thirsty, Teacher?” she asked.

Silence. The kitchen *was* hot… but this cup felt dangerous. He handed it back.

“Afraid I poisoned it?”

“Just not thirsty.”

“Oh.” She didn’t push.

She rarely had guests. Only one cup existed.

The “indirect kiss” thing? Never crossed her mind.

Jiang Aiyu shaped the dough into cakes, coating each gently with breadcrumbs.

Watching her cradle a tiny ball like treasure, eyes sparkling, Lu Chengzhou realized: *She truly enjoys this.*

Unlike Meng Wanyu.

*Was Meng even here to learn cooking?* He almost felt bad saying it.

Natural beauty had unique charm.

Nothing like overdone enhancements.

Now, he watched Jiang Aiyu with quiet appreciation.

“Ready. Fry them.”

He held the lid to shield her from splatters.

She frowned, leaning closer—eyes locked on the golden cakes bobbing in oil.

A warm, sweet aroma filled the air.

“This smells different from mine,” Jiang Aiyu murmured aloud. “Mine never float this fast.”

Lu Chengzhou smiled. “Dough needs proper proofing to get fluffy.”

She nodded, filing the tip away.

When the first cake was golden, she fished it out with chopsticks, blew gently on it, then offered it to him.

Eyes bright with hope.

“Teacher… taste it?”