Chapter 88

Chapter 88: A Big Kitchen, Pretty Boy

She pointed to the stones arranged to the right.

“This one.”

It was about the size of a basketball, and the surface color looked a little worse than people liked. Others had noticed it before, but they’d hesitated—and hesitation was how stones stayed unsold.

Si Jin Nan didn’t hesitate at all.

“All right,” he said. “Then it’s these three.”

He turned back to the old men with a lazy smile. “This good piece can stay here for all of you to admire.”

Qiao Qing Yan adjusted her sunglasses, not sparing them another glance as she turned away.

—

“They can cut the stones here,” Si Jin Nan said when he saw her heading for the exit. “You’re not cutting yours?”

Qiao Qing Yan leaned against the courtyard gate, posture loose, expression unreadable. “You stay. After they cut them, sell mine for me.”

“Transfer the money straight into the card I gave you.”

She spoke as if she were ordering takeout.

“Then this afternoon, take the money and help me find a place to live,” she added. “It needs a big kitchen.”

Si Jin Nan stared at her. “Didn’t the company assign you a place? Ju Hui’s treatment for artists isn’t bad. Especially you.”

“The kitchen is too small,” Qiao Qing Yan said, as if that was the end of the argument.

Si Jin Nan’s mouth ran ahead of his brain. “Don’t tell me you’re keeping a—”

He caught himself too late.

A kept pretty boy.

A pretty boy.

For a second he wondered if he’d just said something unforgivable.

But Qiao Qing Yan only waved a hand at him, already walking away.

“Get the place fast,” she called over her shoulder.

“Big kitchen.”

Si Jin Nan watched her disappear, then looked back at the rough stones waiting behind him.

Gambling on stones was one cut to poverty, one cut to wealth. No one knew what fate waited under the blade.

Was she really so sure those stones were enough for her to buy a big place in Cloud City?

Even he wouldn’t dare say that.

Even masters who’d gambled for decades wouldn’t be that absolute before the cut.

But an hour later, when he had a cutter open them one by one, Si Jin Nan wasn’t just surprised.

His heart nearly stopped.

—

By the time Qiao Qing Yan returned home, it was already afternoon.

The apartment was empty—so quiet it felt excessive. Mirrors and glittering reflections filled the space, throwing light back at her from every angle.

At the entryway, a note waited.

The handwriting was bold and free, strokes wild as if the writer had pressed too hard and refused to soften. At the end, a few heavy dots lingered, as though there had been more to say… and in the end, the pen had been set down instead.

Qiao Qing Yan moved toward the kitchen door.

And there—inside—steaming hot dishes sat waiting, fresh enough that it felt like the cook couldn’t have been gone long.

For an instant, time folded.

She could almost see him there, sleeves rolled, posture straight, movements flowing like water as he worked in that cramped kitchen as if it belonged to him.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

The phone by the entryway vibrated nonstop.

She didn’t rush for it. She simply stood there, gaze calm, watching the steam curl up from the dishes.

[Master, did the Child of Fate cook that for you?]

Little Tabby Cat’s voice came through their soul connection, cautious, as if it didn’t dare show its face.

[Master, you’re way too blessed. The Child of Fate actually cooked for you.]

Qiao Qing Yan finally turned away from the kitchen and picked up the vibrating phone.

“The upgrade is done,” Little Tabby Cat blurted, as if preemptively covering itself.

It trembled—half panic, half hopeful flattery.

[No. But that doesn’t stop me from talking with master.]

Qiao Qing Yan didn’t expose the lie.

It was as if she didn’t care what Little Tabby Cat and its master were plotting in the dark.

In front of absolute strength, every scheme was a paper tiger.