Wen Sheng was excited, running so fast she nearly tripped several times. When she finally made it to the kitchen door, she saw a familiar figure before her.
It was really him!
Fu Yanlin, in dark blue loungewear with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, stood under the incandescent light of the kitchen ceiling. The light spilled over him, outlining the sharp lines of his profile.
He gazed down, concentrating on the onion in his hands, as the knife and chopping board made a reassuring click-clack sound.
A pot of beef stew simmered on the stove, with wisps of steam rising, reminiscent of so many mornings and evenings in the past.
Wen Sheng's legs were rooted to the spot, staring at the busy figure in the kitchen, not daring to approach rashly. She was afraid to disturb this peaceful and beautiful scene, for fear that the man she longed for day and night would disappear.
