salt by salt

"tasty?"

Song Cheng looked at me expectantly, and under his eager gaze, I slowly said, "It's delicious."

"That's great, I'm afraid you don't like the taste." He naturally took over the porcelain bowl that I drank to the bottom, "I'll serve you some more, do you want more ribs or soup?"

"It's all right." I pursed my lips lightly, as if the taste of the soup was still between my lips and teeth.

It's more than delicious - it's the best taste in the world.

I stepped into the corridor with Song Cheng on the front foot, and I smelled the faint scent on the back foot, and even teased him: "Whoever cooks such delicious food, I am not afraid of neighbors knocking down the door to snatch it." Song Cheng was embarrassed. Touching his head, he smiled and said, "It's my stewed soup. My neighbors often drink it, so they should be used to it."

I followed him into his house in disbelief. The small single apartment was tidy and tidy. I didn't look at it too much. The main reason was that when I opened the door, the strong fresh fragrance seemed to permeate the room, making me Hungry after sitting in the car for several hours, I swallowed my saliva.

"I stewed pork ribs. My mother taught me the secret recipe. It's delicious." He brought me slippers, "Jun Yan, you must be hungry, right? come out."

He served me a bowl and reminded me to be careful of scalding.I looked at the bowl with plain patterns and told myself to praise Song Cheng's craftsmanship regardless of whether it tasted right or not. After taking a sip, I couldn't help but finish the whole bowl.Song Cheng filled another bowl full of pork ribs for me, stewed until crispy and tasty, and then put on his apron and started cooking.

"Go and sit on the sofa, I'm afraid that the oily fumes will choke you." He held a spatula in his hand and poked his head out to say to me.

This house is small, the dining table is next to the kitchen, the living room is the sofa next to it, and the balcony is just a few steps away.I sat down on the sofa with a bowl and chopsticks, and I could still smell the oily smoke. Maybe the oily smoke machine is not very useful, since it is an old residential building after all.I saw people on the opposite side of the balcony drying gaudy bedsheets and underwear of various colors, but Song Cheng’s balcony had some beautifully trimmed flowers and plants arranged in an orderly manner.

This man is taking life very seriously.I was bored thinking.

Although the house is very narrow and some places have been peeled off, Song Cheng has covered most of it with cut-out wallpaper, and it is obvious that both the paintings on the wall and the decorations on the coffee table have been carefully selected. I didn't give up on myself because I lived in a dilapidated house.If I lived in this kind of place and had to run around for a living every day, I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to do one percent of what he is—no, just living in this kind of place is enough to make me so depressed that I don't want to face life.

"Jun Yan, do you like it salty or light?" Song Cheng asked me loudly amidst the roar of the range hood, and I thought for a while: "I like it just right."

"Then I'll decide for myself." He happily hummed an unknown tune, and I picked up the last rib in the bowl and put it in my mouth.

The taste of Song Cheng's cooking is indeed just right. From his soup, I reckon the taste of his cooking is not too bad.After I was full, I was lazy and didn't want to move. Song Cheng was like a hardworking bee, cleaning up the dishes and wiping the table. Young man, how could he be indifferent and watch him busy like a grandfather.

"Hey, sit down." Song Cheng smiled at me, his slightly longer eyelashes flickering, "There's no reason to let the guests do it."

"I often wash dishes at home. I'm very skilled." I added resentfully. In fact, the Xu family didn't treat me so harshly that I couldn't afford to hire a nanny. I often slack off and order takeaways. Washing dishes is really not a big deal. on the go.But "Jun Yan" from a poor family must know how to wash dishes, so I can only bite the bullet and say, "Let me help you."

"It's really not necessary." He thought for a while, "Then Jun Yan, please roll up your sleeves for me, I feel like I'm about to fall into the water."

I lowered my head to help him roll up his shirt, and my fingers touched his graceful arm, which was warm and firm.

Song Cheng, model, 189cm tall, just turned 21 last month.Some information in his profile suddenly flashed in my mind, I let go of my hand, looked up and saw him smiling at me: "Thank you."

His expression was gentle, but when he turned his head, his slightly lowered eyes glanced over me casually, his long eyelashes turned into butterflies, and his wings brushed over the place where his sight touched.

Sooner or later it was mine.I looked at the side face of his serious washing dishes and thought.

This man—this butterfly will be mine sooner or later.