When Yang Fei returned home, Qin Yanyang had already washed and cut the vegetables and had even poured oil into the pan, ready to start stir-frying.
Perhaps feeling guilty, Yang Fei hurried over and snatched the spatula, saying, "Let me do it, how can I let my wife with such tender white skin do this kind of work."
Qin Yanyang smiled sweetly, letting him cook while she stood by with a grin, "I'm not that delicate, you know. When you weren't around, I would cook for myself."
Yang Fei nodded, "Yeah, that was before. Things are different now. You're a married woman. As long as your husband is home, he'll do these things. My wife only needs to focus on being beautiful. With those soft, tender hands, it's more comfortable for me when I touch them."
Feeling a sweet warmth in her heart, both touched and a little shy, Qin Yanyang retorted playfully, "During the early days we met, you weren't so slick with words. You even said I was your first love. Were you deceiving me on purpose?"
