The next morning, the bright sunshine passed through the glass window, spilling into the bedroom.
The alarm clock rang, Qiao Yin shut it off with a casual hand while her eyes were still closed. She turned over, intending to snooze a bit longer, but suddenly realized that this turn was unusually easy—her burdens had lifted.
She opened her eyes and saw that she was alone in bed; Lu Lingche was gone.
Gone?
No, that couldn't be right—there seemed to be the aroma of food.
Qiao Yin got up from bed, slipped on her slippers, and left the bedroom.
Through the glass door of the kitchen, she indeed saw Lu Lingche's silhouette.
He seemed to have heard the sound of her opening the door and looked back at her, then smiled, "Ancestor, you're awake?"
Qiao Yin walked over and slid open the kitchen door, "Young Master, how could I let you cook breakfast for me? I'm so anxious."
"I don't see any sign of you being anxious."
