Qiu Yingying is reborn and bound to a learning system.

On Saturday, sunlight streamed through the French windows of the Meng family's old house, casting dappled shadows on the floor. The air lacked the usual bustling activity of the housekeeper; instead, a subtle tranquility permeated the space—the kitchen had become Fu Wenying's private domain.

This Ms. Fu, who has lived a life of elegance and self-restraint, never lifting a finger to cook, has recently become obsessed with learning to cook from food bloggers.

Instead of panicking, she first had the housekeeper purchase a complete set of exquisite kitchen utensils just for her. Even the cutting board was custom-made from pear wood, the knives were handmade and imported from Germany, and even the seasoning bottles were made of frosted glass. They were arranged on the countertop, looking as neat as a work of art.

At this moment, Fu Wenying was wearing a beige silk loungewear set with a light gray cotton and linen apron over it. The apron was embroidered with small gardenia patterns, which complemented her temperament perfectly.

Her hair was neatly combed and loosely tied up with a jade hairpin, with not a single stray hair on her forehead. Even while busy in the kitchen, she maintained her dignified and proper demeanor.

The nanny stood at the kitchen doorway, a clean rag in her hand, wanting to go in and lend a hand, but was stopped by Fu Wenying's eyes. "Sister Zhang, you rest first, I'll try today." Her voice was gentle, but with an undeniable insistence, "I'm in the mood for something, so I'd like to try it myself."

Sister Zhang knew this lady's temperament; she seemed gentle but was actually very opinionated, so she had no choice but to retreat to the living room and watch from a distance.

Beside the kitchen counter, a phone rests on a custom-made solid wood stand, playing a replay of the live stream "Yingying Loves to Eat." The camera focuses on a pair of slender hands, their movements clean and efficient, while a gentle voice explains how to make jade shrimp balls through a speaker.

Fu Wenying, wearing thin-rimmed gold-rimmed glasses, stared intently at the screen, a small silver salt spoon in her hand. She hesitated for a moment, looking at the pristine white shrimp. "A suitable amount of salt, a suitable amount of cooking wine..." she softly repeated the blogger's words, her brows slightly furrowed, yet she maintained a composed demeanor. "That word 'suitable amount' is quite a test."

She gently scooped half a spoonful of salt, tilting her fingertips slightly to let the salt grains fall evenly onto the shrimp, her movements as delicate as if she were handling a precious jewel. After sprinkling, she picked up her chopsticks and gently stirred, her touch even, as if afraid of ruining the shrimp's shape.

At the kitchen doorway, Meng Huaijin leaned against the doorframe, holding a book of poems, but barely flipping through it. He watched his wife's hands, usually so adept at handling documents, now clumsily but earnestly deveining shrimp, her eyes full of amusement, but he didn't go to disturb her.

"Do you need any help?" His voice was gentle, with a hint of indulgence.

Fu Wenying didn't turn her head, her tone still elegant: "No need, Huaijin. You can just watch over there, I can handle it myself." Her movements might not be very skilled, and she would sometimes be a little slow when removing the shrimp veins, but she did each step in an orderly manner without the slightest panic.

"Okay," Meng Huaijin replied with a smile, "I'll wait here and try our Wenying's cooking."

Fu Wenying didn't turn around, but the corners of her mouth slightly turned up, revealing a barely perceptible smile. She picked up the starch, scooped out an appropriate amount with a small spoon, and gently stirred it in one direction. Her movements were fluid, and even though fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, she simply raised her hand and gently wiped them with her sleeve, maintaining her composure.

The atmosphere in the living room was far less peaceful than in the kitchen.

Xu Qin sat on the sofa, leaning slightly forward, her fingers flying across the phone screen, a subtle, barely concealed smile on her face. Meng Yanchen sat on the single sofa next to her, holding a financial magazine, his gaze frequently falling on Xu Qin, his expression complex.

"There's a thoracic surgery academic forum at the city's central hospital next week. I looked at the agenda, and some of the experts' lectures are quite good. Would you like to go listen?" Meng Yanchen put down his magazine and struck up a conversation. He knew Xu Qin had been having some troubles at the hospital lately, and he thought that letting her interact with more colleagues might help ease her mood.

Xu Qin didn't even look up, and vaguely replied, "We'll see, I might not have time." Her attention was completely on her phone, and even her tone of voice was perfunctory.

Meng Yanchen paused for a moment, then said, "Mom specially learned a new dish today, shrimp balls, which you mentioned wanting to eat before. Try them later."

"Oh." Xu Qin responded calmly, tapping her fingers on the screen as if replying to some important message, her smile widening.

Meng Yanchen frowned slightly as he looked at her.

Ever since Xu Qin moved back in, she's always been like this: either silent and withdrawn, or staring blankly at her phone, or doing wood carving in her room—and she even got caught by Ms. Fu. It's like there's an invisible wall between them, making it impossible for anyone to get close. He felt a vague unease, but didn't know how to bring it up.

The commotion in the kitchen lasted for two hours. Fu Wenying didn't make any extra noise. Even when oil accidentally splashed onto her hands, she simply took a breath, applied an ice pack, and continued to focus on cooking.

Her movements became increasingly skilled. From marinating the shrimp to blanching the broccoli, then stir-frying and thickening the sauce, she performed each step with ease. Although the presentation wasn't as refined as in the live stream, and the shrimp weren't curled evenly, the overall result was still very successful. Ms. Fu nodded, finding it excellent.

Finally, the dishes were ready. Sister Zhang helped carry the dishes to the table. The jade shrimp balls in the center were served on a white porcelain plate, garnished with a few fresh mint leaves, looking refreshing and elegant.

"Dinner's ready." Fu Wenying took off her apron, folded it neatly and placed it aside. She then straightened the collar of her loungewear before sitting down at the head of the table, a hint of barely perceptible anticipation on her face.

Meng Huaijin was the first to pick up his chopsticks, took a shrimp ball, and savored it. "Mmm, it tastes very good." A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes as he sincerely praised, "The shrimp is tender, the saltiness is just right, and it has a light fragrance. It suits my taste better than what you get at restaurants."

Fu Wenying smiled gently, her tone remaining calm: "Eat more if you like. It's my first time making this, so there are still many shortcomings."

Meng Yanchen also picked up his chopsticks and took a shrimp ball. The moment it entered his mouth, the tender texture melted on his tongue, the seasoning was just right, without too much seasoning, which instead highlighted the natural sweetness of the shrimp. He could imagine his mother busy in the kitchen, her elegant and composed demeanor, even when handling ingredients, she was not at all flustered.

He looked up at Fu Wenying and noticed that his mother was secretly glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, her eyes filled with a hint of expectation. Before she could look away, he saw her and she hurriedly turned her head away.

Meng Yanchen's heart skipped a beat.

In his memory, Fu Wenying was always strict, dignified, and even somewhat aloof. She had extremely high expectations of him, teaching him etiquette and business acumen from a young age, and never showed such a soft, expectant look in her eyes.

At that moment, he suddenly realized that his mother was not as cold as he had imagined; she was just used to using rules and strictness to mask her emotions.

"Mom," he put down his chopsticks, his tone earnest and gentle, "this dish is delicious, much better than I expected."

Fu Wenying's eyes lit up, and her smile deepened, but she still maintained her elegant demeanor. She simply picked up the serving chopsticks and placed a few shrimp balls on Meng Yanchen's plate: "Eat more if you like it." She then placed one on Xu Qin's plate as well, "Qinqin, try it and see if it suits your taste."

Xu Qin symbolically picked up a shrimp ball, chewed it twice, and swallowed it. Her face was expressionless; she neither said it was delicious nor that it was bad. She was like a wooden doll.

Fu Wenying's smile faded, her hand holding the serving chopsticks paused slightly, then she regained her composure, silently put away her chopsticks, and picked up a bite of vegetables for herself.

Meng Huaijin glanced at Xu Qin, then at Fu Wenying, trying to smooth things over: "Qinqin, have you been too busy at the hospital lately? You're so tired you don't have much of an appetite. Eat more to replenish your nutrition."

Xu Qin remained silent, a secret smile returning to her face.

The meal was rather subdued. Meng Huaijin occasionally tried to start a conversation, and Fu Wenying would chime in occasionally, her tone still elegant, but lacking some of her earlier enthusiasm. Meng Yanchen mostly just ate quietly.

His gaze occasionally fell on Xu Qin, his expression growing increasingly complex. Xu Qin barely spoke or touched her chopsticks throughout the entire meal, appearing like a detached bystander, with only a glimmer of light appearing in her eyes when she looked at her phone.

After dinner, Sister Zhang cleared the table, while Fu Wenying and Meng Huaijin sat in the living room drinking tea. Meng Yanchen was about to return to his study when Xu Qin called him back.

"Brother, Mom, Dad, there's something I want to tell you." Xu Qin put down her phone, looked up, and had a resolute expression on her face.

Fu Wenying paused, her hand holding the teacup still, and said calmly, "What is it? Tell me."

"Song Yan and I have gotten back together." Xu Qin's voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly throughout the living room.

Meng Huaijin's smile froze, Meng Yanchen's brows furrowed instantly, and Fu Wenying's face darkened. Her fingers, gripping the teacup, tightened slightly, her knuckles turning white, yet she maintained a calm demeanor.

"Qinqin, do you know what you're saying?" Fu Wenying's voice turned cold, yet still carried a hint of restrained elegance. "Song Yan and you are from completely different worlds."

"Mom, I know what I'm doing." Xu Qin raised her head, her eyes firm, even with a hint of defiance. "I feel happy with him, and he can give me the life I want."

"The life you want?" Fu Wenying put down her teacup, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "The life you want is to eat those simple meals with him and live a life without any security?"

"What's wrong with simple food?" Xu Qin became emotional. "A bowl of plain porridge that Song Yan made for me tastes better than all this fancy food on the table. That's what home feels like!"

"The feeling of home?" Fu Wenying's voice rose a few decibels, a hint of heartache flashing in her eyes. "Haven't we, the Meng family, given you enough? What haven't we given you in return for what you wanted? Your so-called feeling of home is just giving up your future and fooling around with an unreliable person?"

"Mom, you don't understand at all!" Xu Qin suddenly stood up, completely losing control of her emotions. "You've never understood what I want! You only know how to use your standards to demand and control me!"

As she spoke, she backed away, accidentally bumping into the coffee table behind her. On the coffee table sat a framed photo of the Meng family, in which Xu Qin smiled brightly, nestled beside Fu Wenying.

"Splash—"

The picture frame fell to the ground, and the sound of shattering glass was harsh and unpleasant.

The photo slipped out of the frame, was ripped open by shards of glass, and a long gash appeared, passing right between Xu Qin and Fu Wenying.

The living room fell into a deathly silence.

Fu Wenying looked at the shattered photo frame on the ground, her face pale, her eyes filled with disappointment and heartache, but she still managed to hold back her emotions and slowly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she had returned to her usual indifference and aloofness.

Meng Huaijin sighed and tried to pick up the photo frame from the ground, but Fu Wenying stopped him.

"No need to pick it up." Her voice was eerily calm. "Since it's broken, there's no point in piecing it back together."

She stood up, straightened the hem of her loungewear, and maintained her elegant posture, but walked towards the stairs with somewhat heavy steps: "I'm tired, I'll go back to my room to rest first."

Looking at the shattered photo frame on the ground, and then at the excited yet bewildered expression on Xu Qin's face, Meng Yanchen felt a heavy weight in his heart, as if something was blocking it.

He knew that from this moment on, this family had been completely and irreparably cracked.