Having been companions for decades, their tacit understanding is evident, even reflected in the way they address each other. Meanwhile, he called back Duo'er who was about to leave with Miss Bei and asked, "Duo'er, you're the most literate among us. Can you help me record and organize the recipes we just discussed?"
Observing that Master Cheng has everything arranged, Miss Bei, who recognizes the battlefield of a lifetime expert like him, feels reassured. She then turns her attention to Uncle Zhong and Duo'er , "Uncle Zhong, Duo'er, you both stay and assist Master Cheng. I'll help Cheng Mo upstairs. Is that okay?"
Seeing Bei's urgency, Cheng Mo's temperament has softened, realizing there won't be any issues with the two of them going upstairs together. Bei suggests, "Uncle Zhong, Dot, stay and assist Master Cheng. I'll help Cheng Mo upstairs. Is that okay?"
"Oh, by the way, Uncle Zhong, Cheng Mo is full, and I'm not hungry either. Later, when I invite Mr. Qiao over, please accompany him for a meal, introduce the seasonings we prepared today, and then prepare tea. Call me down later to chat with him for a while."
These additional instructions seemed to please Cheng Mo. He looks at Uncle Zhong with satisfaction and adds, "After the meal, invite him to the third-floor lounge for tea. It wouldn't be good for me not to accompany him to dinner, and not even show up for tea; that would be quite impolite."
"Understood. Master, please rest for a while. I'll have the boys prepare the lounge on the third floor and get some fragrant tea to welcome Mr. Qiao." With an exchanged look of understanding, Cheng Mo supports Bei and leaves the room.
Supporting Cheng Mo, Bei helps him upstairs to the third-floor bedroom, which seems familiar, with added decorations. Not dwelling on it too much, she notices Cheng Mo still wearing the sturdy outfit from the morning. Bei starts by removing his tight jade-studded waistband, followed by the stiff shoulder pads and sleeves, and then his deer-hide high boots and fabric socks. "You're quite the aristocrat, lovely feet and no smell even after being covered all day. Look at your face, it already has a healthy color. Feeling more comfortable now, aren't you? With your blood circulation restricted by this outfit, it's no wonder you were uncomfortable."
Cheng Mo didn't respond, just raised his hand, using slender fingers to support his forehead, covering the twitching corner of his eye. Inside, a myriad of crows flew by, silently muttering, "Young lady, am I blushing? Can't you feel anything looking at a man's bare feet like this?"
The young lady continued to play the role of a kindergarten caregiver, incessantly chatting, "I'll give you a hot compress. It'll speed up recovery, but it needs to be a bit hot. Endure it a little." Bei Bei lifted the boiling water from the small stove, prepared hot water in a copper basin, wrung out a long cloth, went over to undo Cheng Mo's long shirt, lifted the inner garment, applied the hot cloth to his stomach, covered him with a silk quilt, took a wet cloth, dampened and wrung it halfway, grabbed Cheng Mo's hand, massaged each fingertip joint, and then gently wiped it. Turning around, she changed the water in a basin, brought it directly to the bedside stool, untwisted it, then pulled out one foot and wrapped it up. Cheng Mo hadn't reacted yet, and the other foot was also pulled out and wrapped up. "Bei Bei, this is inappropriate. You don't need to do these things." Cheng Mo's entire body was almost boiling, truly creating his own misery. If this continues, it's feared his blood vessels might burst, leading to a fatal outcome.
"What's inappropriate? You are a patient now," Bei Bei held one foot wrapped in a hot cloth, gently massaging the sole, sighed softly, "Ah, it's all my fault. Why did I have to make such delicious things? It's really unjust. Even the gods would find it hard to resist the torment of such deliciousness—sigh—"
"Puchi," Cheng Mo couldn't hold back his laughter, and all the blood quickly returned to a calm state. Was this cheeky girl here to entertain him? How strong must her self-love be to act like this? He sat up abruptly, grabbed Bei Bei's hands that were pressing on the soles of his feet, "You, can you be even more proud? Don't talk about gods; when your Brother Ziqiu arrives later, after eating his fill, are you going to take care of him like this as if he's a patient?"
"He's already an adult, why would I eat without restraint like you? Besides, I won't be the one accompanying him later, and I certainly won't be feeding him. If anyone takes care of him, it'll be Uncle Zhong."
"Right, let Uncle Zhong do it."
"Tch, talking as if I would eat until I can't move like you. Haven't you heard? Wine makes a smart man, but food turns him into a fool. So, you're the fool."
"Yes, I'm that fool. As long as you feed me, I'll eat even if I burst."
North felt something was off about that statement, and looking at Cheng Mo, there was a hint of awkwardness. What's with the increasingly intense gaze? She forcefully pulled her hands out of Cheng Mo's tight grip, lifting them to cover his eyes, "You're not allowed to look at me like this. I won't be enchanted by you. You look so bewitching, I can't resist for too long."
"In that case, you don't have to resist—"
"Young Master," Cheng Mo was about to continue teasing, but Uncle Zhong's gentle call interrupted. He deflated and lay back on the bed. Uncle Zhong usually had good timing, why did he have to come at such an inconvenient moment today?