Night had fallen, and Li Qiqi and Zhao Jiaqi sat in front of the stone table in the courtyard.
"Jiaqi, was my cooking really that bad?"
"I think... it's not too bad... after all, you're new at this... It's quite an accomplishment to have made it this far..."
Zhao Jiaqi, who had tried a bite of everything just before, remained silent up to now.
Because every time she opened her mouth, she felt like vomiting.
Seeing her discomfort, Li Qiqi rested her cheeks in her hands with resignation, "I really don't know what's wrong. Those dishes were all taught to me by the chefs at home, and they even supervised the selection of ingredients, but somehow the taste always comes out strange. They don't know which step went wrong."
"Oh dear, everyone has their own talents and, of course, their flaws. Maybe cooking just isn't your thing. I think it's better to let it go and find a direction that suits you better for your own development."
