After finishing that sentence, He Xing hung up the phone directly.
Strangely enough, if Fu Han had heard He Xing's tone, as if someone owed him money, she would have been infuriated; but now, she found his voice carried an inexplicable soothing power that settled her heart instantly.
Suddenly, the smell of burning food wafted over.
"Ah, my noodles," screeched Fu Han, no longer caring about the things on the net, as she rushed to the kitchen in a panic.
The kitchen was already a total mess. The noodle soup had boiled over; the stove was covered with it, and the noodles in the pot were burnt to a crisp. The situation in the kitchen was beyond disheveled, it was nauseating.
Fu Han let out a deep sigh; indeed, multitasking was a bad idea. Now, not only were the noodles inedible, but she also had to clean up the kitchen.
She rummaged through the cabinets looking for gloves, and though she didn't find them, she heard someone knocking at the door.
