166: Chapter 166 The Two Women Are Cooking

The door closed.

Luo Shiyun leaned against the door, listening to the fading footsteps in the hallway, the corners of her mouth slowly curling up.

She turned and walked into the bedroom, opened the wardrobe, and looked at those paper bags.

She also glanced at the small pink bag in her purse.

Her face flushed red again.

Luo Shiyun took out that piece of clothing and unfolded it; it was as thin as a cicada's wing, almost transparent under the light.

She bit her lip, folded it up, and placed it under her pillow.

Then she sat on the edge of the bed, watching the afternoon sunlight outside the window, waiting for him to return.

...

Wang Yang stepped out of Luo Shiyun's home. He didn't head toward the elevator but instead turned and walked toward the stairwell.

His footsteps echoed in the empty stairwell, and the voice-activated lights lit up one floor after another.

He climbed up three floors and pushed open the door to the twenty-eighth floor.

The hallway was covered with thick carpet, and the wall sconces glowed with warm yellow light.

Walking to the door of his apartment, he took out his keys, gently turned the lock, and pushed the door open.

The moment the door opened, a cacophony of sounds drifted over from the direction of the kitchen.

The clanging of a spatula against an iron wok, the rushing sound of water from the faucet.

And the chattering voices of two women.

"Sister Yulan, how thin should this vegetable be cut? Is this thickness okay?"

Chen Xuemiao's voice was filled with a flustered sense of panic.

"A bit thinner, cut into shreds, not strips. Yours is too thick; it won't cook through."

Wen Yulan's voice held a touch of helplessness amidst its gentleness.

"How about this?"

"Still too thick. Forget it, just leave it there, I'll cut it. You go watch the pot, don't let the vegetables burn."

"Ah? Which pot? This one or that one?"

"The one on the left! The one smoking! Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

Wang Yang stood in the foyer, the corners of his mouth slowly curling up.

He didn't make a sound, changed into his slippers, and walked inside on tiptoe.

There was no one in the living room; a few open cookbooks and a bag of opened potato chips sat on the coffee table.

Sunlight streamed in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, landing on the floor, warm and cozy.

He walked to the kitchen doorway, leaned against the doorframe, and crossed his arms over his chest.

In the kitchen, the two women had their backs to him, busy in a flurry of activity.

Chen Xuemiao stood on the left side of the stove, wearing a short pink loungewear set, the top being a camisole style.

Thin straps hung over her shoulders, revealing a large expanse of her fair back and shoulder blades.

Below was a matching pair of shorts, the legs so short they barely covered the tops of her thighs.

Her two fair, straight, and long legs were bare as she stood in a pair of fluffy slippers.

Her hair was tied into a loose bun, with a few stray strands scattered on the back of her neck, dampened by sweat and sticking to her skin.

She was frantically tossing the vegetables in the pot.

The spatula in her hand seemed like a completely foreign tool to her; she would stir once and pause, then stir twice and pause again.

She was muttering to herself.

"Don't burn, don't burn, don't burn."

Wen Yulan stood on the right side of the stove, wearing a loose, off-white cotton loungewear set that clung softly to her body.

The neckline of the loungewear wasn't low, but because she was bowing her head to chop vegetables, it opened slightly.

Revealing a section of her fair collarbone and the soft curve of her chest.

Below were matching long pants with loose legs.

But because of her standing posture, the fabric over her hips was stretched tight, outlining a rounded, full curve.

Her hair was loosely held up at the back of her head with a hairpin, exposing a slender, fair neck.

A few stray strands hung by her ears, swaying gently with the motion of her chopping.

She kept her head down, focusing on chopping the potatoes on the cutting board, one slice at a time.

Although not exactly skilled, she was much better than the one beside her.

The kitchen knife landed on the wooden cutting board with a rhythmic "thud, thud" sound.

"Xuemiao, stir those vegetables, they're about to burn."

"I'm stirring! I'm stirring! Oh my, why is this sticking to the pot?"

"Did you add oil?"

"Ah? Do I have to add oil too?"

Wen Yulan put down the knife, walked over to take a look in the pot, and was silent for a second.

"This is stir-frying, not boiling. You need to add oil before putting the vegetables in."

"I forgot. Is it too late to add it now?"

Wen Yulan sighed, picked up the oil bottle to pour a little oil into the pot, and took the spatula to help her stir.

The clump of whatever-it-was in the pot was already charred black on one side, stuck to the bottom, and couldn't even be stirred.

Chen Xuemiao looked at the charred mess, bit her lip, and muttered softly.

"Is this still edible?"

Wen Yulan glanced at her.

"What do you think?"

Wang Yang stood at the doorway, watching this scene, unable to suppress the smile on his lips.

His gaze slid from Chen Xuemiao's smooth back to Wen Yulan's rounded hip line.

And from Wen Yulan's slender neck to Chen Xuemiao's fair, bare thighs.

Two women: one lively and spirited, one gentle and composed; one flustered and chaotic, one struggling to keep things together.

Just looking at their backs was a feast for the eyes.

He walked over on tiptoe; the two were busy trying to save the charred pot of vegetables and didn't hear his footsteps behind them at all.

Wang Yang stood between the two and raised his hands, bringing them down simultaneously.

Two crisp sounds rang out almost at the same time, exceptionally clear in the kitchen.

Chen Xuemiao took a slap on her bottom and jumped forward.

The spatula in her hand nearly flew out, and she let out a shriek.

"Ah!"

Wen Yulan also shuddered, the potato she had just picked up dropped onto the cutting board, and she spun around abruptly.

Both turned their heads at the same time and saw Wang Yang standing behind them, a mischievous smile on his lips and bright eyes.

"Brother Yang!"

Chen Xuemiao reacted first, her eyes lighting up instantly; she lunged forward, wrapped her arms around his neck, and hung on him.

"You scared me to death! Why don't you make any sound when you walk!"

Wen Yulan also breathed a sigh of relief, clutching her chest, her face flushed, and she glared at him.

"Xiaoyang, when did you come in? Why didn't you say anything?"

Wang Yang put one arm around Chen Xuemiao's waist and reached out with his other hand to wrap around Wen Yulan's waist.

Pulling both of them into his embrace at the same time.

On the left was the soft, warm body beneath the pink camisole loungewear.

On the right was the gentle, full curve beneath the off-white cotton loungewear.

Two different tactile sensations pressed against him simultaneously.

"Just came in. I saw you were busy and focused, and I didn't have the heart to disturb you."

Chen Xuemiao hung on him, her face pressed against his chest, her fingers fiddling with his collar.

"Brother Yang, why are you here?"

Wang Yang looked down at her.

"I can't come? By the sound of it, you don't welcome me?"

Chen Xuemiao panicked, looked up at him, her eyes wide.

"No way! I wish you'd come every day! You don't know how much I've missed you; I was about to die of boredom alone at home."

Wen Yulan chuckled softly from the side.

"Aren't you accompanied by me? How were you alone?"

Chen Xuemiao turned back and glared at her.

"That's different. Sister Yulan is Sister Yulan, Brother Yang is Brother Yang. I want both of you."