Chapter Forty: Is the Cake Made of Salt?

"She still hasn't come out?" Lu Shenchen had already taken a two-hour nap, and when he emerged, he saw Song Qing'an still sitting motionless in the chair directly facing Qin Sheng's room. It was obvious he had been waiting there for Qin Sheng the entire time.

Song Qing'an shook his head, saying nothing.

"A patient can't go without eating," Lu Shenchen glanced at the tightly closed door, sighed, and took the seat beside Song Qing'an.

"She might just need a little time," Song Qing'an's eyes flickered with gloom, his emotions unreadable.

Lu Shenchen curled his lip and poured two cups of tea for them both. "Time is one thing, but whether this kind of psychological wound can heal is another matter altogether..."

Song Qing'an tilted his head back, took a sip of tea, and did not respond.

Even by evening, Qin Sheng still hadn't left her room. She had skipped two consecutive meals, and Song Qing'an was visibly anxious.

"Stop pacing, you're making my head spin," Lu Shenchen rubbed his eyes, dizzy from watching Song Qing'an walk back and forth.

Song Qing'an stamped his foot, and just as the impulse struck him to go knock on Qin Sheng's door, he stopped short, his hand hesitating in mid-air.

He sighed, pressed his lips together, and went straight to the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Lu Shenchen, puzzled, got up to follow.

The moment they entered, Song Qing'an began rummaging through the kitchen, leaving Lu Shenchen baffled as to what he was up to.

"What are you trying to do?" Lu Shenchen watched as his meticulously organized kitchen was turned upside down, his head aching from the mess.

Lu Shenchen’s compulsive neatness couldn't take it any longer.

"I'm looking for something Qin Sheng likes to eat. I don't believe she really won't come out," Song Qing'an explained as he searched.

Lu Shenchen nodded, half understanding, and asked, "So, what does Qin Sheng like to eat?"

Song Qing'an paused, his hands still, and after a long silence, replied awkwardly, "I… don't really know."

"Then what are you looking for…" Lu Shenchen’s irritation flared, but after a deep breath, he regained his patience. "Most girls like desserts, right? Let me see what I can whip up."

"Desserts?" Song Qing'an raised his eyebrows, answering coolly, "She probably likes them."

Lu Shenchen didn’t expect Song Qing'an to know anything useful, so he rolled his eyes, rolled up his sleeves, and grabbed some flour and eggs from the cupboard, setting them on the counter to get to work.

Song Qing'an watched Lu Shenchen’s every move with close attention—a rare sight, since he had never cared much for cooking before, let alone spent so much time in the kitchen, let alone learning.

A phrase crossed Lu Shenchen’s mind: “A daughter is growing up”—no, a son.

"Alright, even if you can't cook, at least knead the dough. I'll beat the eggs," Lu Shenchen nodded to Song Qing'an, trusting him with this simple task.

Five minutes later.

"Song Qing'an!" Lu Shenchen returned to find the dough in ruins, his face turning green. He took back his earlier assumption—Song Qing'an couldn't even knead dough.

Flour was everywhere—on Song Qing'an, in his hair, dusting the bridge of his high nose. When he wiped the sweat from his face, his nose got another streak of flour.

The whole scene was comical, yet somehow endearing.

Lu Shenchen certainly noticed the flour on Song Qing'an’s face, but he had no intention of telling him. If Qin Sheng saw Song Qing'an looking like this when he delivered the dessert, Lu Shenchen was certain she couldn’t possibly stay mad.

By the time they finished, it was nearly dinnertime.

"Finally done," Lu Shenchen sighed with relief as he took the little cakes from the oven. He handed them proudly to Song Qing'an.

"They smell pretty good," Song Qing'an nodded in satisfaction after sniffing them.

When Song Qing'an took out the cakes, he burned his finger, which reddened instantly—yet he barely seemed to notice.

"Go on, deliver them and then come back for dinner," Lu Shenchen waved him off and turned to prepare the rest of the meal.

Song Qing'an nodded, carrying the small cakes out of the kitchen. The weight in his hands seemed to steady his nerves.

"Qin Sheng," Song Qing'an called softly outside her room. After a long moment, Qin Sheng finally responded.

"Come in."

Balancing the cakes in one hand, Song Qing'an pushed open the door. Inside, he saw Qin Sheng sitting by the window, raising her eyebrows slightly at his arrival.

He almost asked her why she wasn't resting in bed, but remembering what she had been through, he thought better of it.

"Lu Shenchen and I baked you some little cakes. Try and see if they’re any good," Song Qing'an placed the cakes on the small table in front of her and sat down beside her.

The gesture moved Qin Sheng, and she glanced at Song Qing'an, bursting into laughter at the sight of his flour-smeared face.

Seeing her laugh, Song Qing'an looked confused, but then caught his reflection in the mirror and understood.

"Lu Shenchen…" Song Qing'an gritted his teeth, muttering the name.

Qin Sheng chuckled softly and said, "Aren't you going to let me eat the cake? You didn’t even bring a spoon."

Song Qing'an quickly handed her a spoon and sat down again, watching her eagerly.

Qin Sheng carefully inspected the cake. It looked quite decent, and she could tell they’d put in a lot of effort. Her eyes turned slightly red.

"Go ahead, try it."

Qin Sheng took a bite, but the strange taste immediately forced her tears of gratitude back—those two idiots must have used salt instead of sugar.

She looked awkwardly at Song Qing'an’s hopeful gaze, swallowed the mouthful, and smiled, nodding, "It’s delicious."

Song Qing'an beamed, pushing the cake closer to her, "If it’s good, eat it all. You didn’t have lunch, after all."

Qin Sheng swallowed, already wondering how much water she’d need to wash this down if she finished the whole thing. She hesitated.

"What’s wrong? Is it not good?" Song Qing'an asked, suspicious at her reluctance to take a second bite.

Seeing the anticipation fade from his eyes, Qin Sheng quickly took a large spoonful and shoved it in her mouth, nodding vigorously, "It’s great! And you’re not allowed to fight me for it."

Song Qing'an’s smile returned, full of relief. "If you like it, have some more. I won’t fight you for it."

"Alright…" Qin Sheng muttered, her throat immediately assaulted by the salty taste. She desperately needed a drink.

"Could you pour me a glass of water? I’m a little choked."

Song Qing'an chuckled helplessly, got up, and went to get her some water.

Qin Sheng sighed with relief, quickly pulling a bottle of juice from her space. With the amount of salt in that cake, one glass of water probably wouldn't be enough.

Not wanting to hurt their feelings, she braced herself and ate the whole cake.

"Here’s your water," Song Qing'an set the glass before her, surprised to see the cake was already gone. "You finished it so fast?"

Qin Sheng took a big gulp and nodded vigorously.

"If you liked it, I’ll bake for you again," Song Qing'an said softly, genuinely pleased by her appetite.

"No need!" The thought of another salty cake made Qin Sheng refuse instinctively, but she added, "Making cakes is too much trouble, I wouldn’t want to put you out."

Song Qing'an considered this and let the matter drop.

"Dinnertime," Lu Shenchen knocked on the door. Song Qing'an glanced at Qin Sheng, and when she nodded, he called back to Lu Shenchen.

"Stir-fried celery with beef, sautéed vegetables, and West Lake beef soup—try them!"

Song Qing'an saw all his favorite dishes and quickly ladled himself a bowl of soup, fetching one for Qin Sheng as well.

He took a taste and grimaced. "Lu Shenchen, why is your West Lake beef soup sweet?"

"Sweet? That’s not right," Lu Shenchen quickly served himself a bowl, tasted it, and indeed, it was sweet.

He was sure he’d used salt—how had it turned out sugary?

After a long moment, Lu Shenchen realized what had happened. "Where did you get the sugar from this afternoon?" He asked Song Qing'an.

"Next to the stove," Song Qing'an replied offhandedly.

Lu Shenchen smacked his forehead, finally understanding. When Song Qing'an ran out of salt making the cake, he’d refilled the salt jar with sugar from the cupboard.

"And the cake?" Lu Shenchen asked, suddenly anxious.

"Qin Sheng ate it all," Song Qing'an replied, puzzled by Lu Shenchen’s fussing.

Lu Shenchen glanced sheepishly at Qin Sheng. "Did you really eat all the cakes we made with salt?"

"Yeah…" Song Qing'an didn’t quite catch what Lu Shenchen said, so he answered for Qin Sheng. Then he realized what he’d said.

"The cake was made with salt?" Song Qing'an recalled Qin Sheng’s expression and slowly caught on.

"Exactly." Lu Shenchen nodded, giving Qin Sheng a mental thumbs-up.

True love—she’d eaten every crumb of a salty cake.

Another moment that made his heart ache and smile at the same time.