Breakup and still want to be beautiful on your own? A crazy tycoon seduces and climbs to the top.

For An Ying, the shock and awe she felt upon witnessing Fu Chengli cooking was no less than the explosion of a nuclear bomb.

The man in her memory was an unattainable beauty at the top of the pyramid, a cynical and carefree business tycoon. He should be impeccably dressed, confidently navigating the high society scene in a suit and tie, receiving compliments and admiration from others.

Instead of being a stay-at-home dad in his own kitchen, wearing a floral apron, holding a pot in one hand and a ladle in the other, making congee and side dishes.

An Ying almost laughed.

If she secretly filmed this scene and posted it to online marketing accounts... it would definitely top the trending searches immediately.

She instinctively reached into her pocket, but couldn't find her phone.

Oh, these aren't her clothes.

An Ying leaned closer to take a look. In the clay pot on the stove, white porridge was bubbling and its aroma filled the air.

There were also several light side dishes on the table, a mix of meat and vegetables.

She had just recovered from a fever and had no taste in her mouth, so this kind of light porridge and side dishes was perfect for her.

I didn't realize... he's quite good at taking care of people.

Fu Chengli noticed the commotion behind him and glanced back.

Seeing his oversized white T-shirt on her, looking like a dress, he twitched the corners of his mouth, but managed to suppress his laughter, and said, "Eat if you're hungry."

An Ying glanced at the dishes on the table, then at Fu Chengli.

It's said online that a man's cooking skills are inversely proportional to his looks, and that handsome men's cooking is not credible.

Fu Chengli has a naturally noble young master face. He's always been waited on by others since he was a child, so how could he possibly know how to cook?

It must taste terrible.

An Ying hesitated and said, "You made the food, you eat it first."

Fu Chengli paused, his hand holding the chopsticks still. He looked up at An Ying expressionlessly.

He seemed to see through An Ying's thoughts instantly.

He didn't say a word, but picked up a small amount of food.

Suddenly, the chopsticks turned in a different direction.

It was stuffed directly into An Ying's mouth.

"Well………"

The chopsticks were pressed against her tongue to prevent her from spitting it out.

An Ying raised her head and had no choice but to eat the small amount of food.

Fu Chengli raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on his lips: "You're the patient, you eat first."

An Ying chewed it, and it seemed... not bad.

Not only is it not bad, it tastes surprisingly good.

She picked up the bowl and began to sip the porridge, enjoying it immensely.

Fu Chengli took the chopsticks that had been used to feed An Ying and started eating as well.

An Ying said, "I thought your family had a housekeeper who cooked, I didn't expect you to be able to cook too."

Fu Chengli said casually, "I just happened to give the nanny a few days off."

He thought for a moment and then said, "My mom taught me. She said that men who can't cook can't find wives. Although there are maids at home, I sometimes cook for myself."

As An Ying ate her food, she turned around and glanced around the mansion.

The entire house has a minimalist modern style, so minimalist that it looks like a show flat. There's no sense of life in it, and no trace of a woman's presence.

The impression one gets is that the owner of this house must be a clean and efficient person.

It was so clean it was almost bland, the kind of place without any sex life.

An Ying was about to complain: You can cook now, but you still haven't found a job.

Suddenly recalling the intimate scene between the two of them in the bathroom last night, she swallowed the words that were on the tip of her tongue.

An Ying shoveled down a few mouthfuls of porridge, but couldn't help herself and looked up to ask, "Last night, I felt dizzy and had tinnitus in the bathroom, so I don't remember much... We... nothing happened, right?"

Fu Chengli put down his bowl and chopsticks, wiped his mouth, and said slowly, "Do you remember when you fell asleep in my passenger seat, you held onto my hand tightly and wouldn't let go?"

"Do you remember when you were in the bathroom, your towel wasn't tied properly, and it almost fell down?"

"Do you remember that I was the one who carried you into the bedroom in the end?"

"Do you remember when I gave you fever-reducing medicine, you kept spitting it out and wouldn't cooperate at all?"

An Ying looked at Fu Chengli blankly: "Then... how did I take the medicine?"

Fu Chengli's lips curled slightly, a hint of cunning in his smile.

He picked up the water glass beside him, took a sip, and said, "Guess?"