“I learned to make this dish because of my dad, who especially loved braised pork. He often told me that being able to eat is a blessing, and those who can eat braised pork will definitely live long. I knew he was just trying to comfort me. Back then, I could never get the cooking just right, but he would always say ‘fatty but not greasy, melting in the mouth, so delicious’, and we’d be happy together. Now I can finally cook it well, but he’s no longer here.” An Ke spoke casually, but anyone could hear the pain in her heart.
“An Ke,” Pei Xuanyan put down his chopsticks and sighed, “I once thought I couldn’t live without her, but I still managed to get through day after day. Now my conclusion is that no matter who’s gone, life goes on. Isn’t it true that only by living is there hope?”
An Ke seriously nodded, sniffling with her reddened nose: “Brother Xuanyan, eat quickly, it’ll get cold.”
“Do you love Jun Hao?” He didn’t know why he asked this at that moment, but he really wanted to know the answer.
An Ke didn’t want to answer. Love or not, like or dislike – she had asked herself many times in her heart, but could never get a clear answer.
Pei Xuanyan spoke again: “Avoiding it all the time isn’t a solution.”
“Meeting the wrong person in the wrong place, there’s no question of love or not love,” An Ke raised her head and smiled: “But I’m still grateful that his casual gesture allowed me to meet you in this vast world.”
“Let’s eat, the food is getting cold,” Pei Xuanyan secretly exhaled, and they became warm again, unaware of the figure turning and leaving from the slightly open door.
An Ke, don’t forget that I am the only one who can exist in your life.” He let go of her, cupped her face, and looked her in the eyes, his voice laced with anger: “Whether I love you or not, you must love me. And you can only bear my children.” If An Ke had been more attentive, she would have noticed he was slightly trembling.
“Jun Hao, you’re drunk.” Having long been familiar with his domineering nature, she didn’t want to say more on this matter.
“I’m not drunk, I’ve never been more clear-headed. Don’t try to think about other men, or I’ll make you wish you were dead, understand?” He reached out and touched her slightly swollen lips: “I don’t want any trace of anyone else here.”
“Jun Hao, don’t use alcohol to throw a tantrum. I also tell you, you can have my body but you’ll never get my heart. I’ll bear children for anyone but you.” An Ke hated threats the most. She pushed him away and took a few steps back: “Leave now and don’t appear before my eyes.” Her eyes were filled with desolation, loneliness, yet also defiance.
Jun Hao had already forgotten his original purpose for coming here. His gaze was deep, half melancholic like seawater blending loneliness, decadence, and confusion; half passionate, burning with bewitching flames that could scorch you. He slowly said: “I will make you know what regret is.”
