Before I could finish, a sharp glare cut me off. Fine, don’t look at me like that. I’ll eat, okay?
I thought his cooking might have improved, but it was still just as terrible.
I drank a pot of tea and couldn’t help saying, “Every time I eat your cooking, I feel like my stomach is being tortured.”
Gou Hun’s face tightened: “In a pair, having one good cook is enough.”
I paused, putting down my cup and looking at him seriously: “Gou Hun, I’m moving out tomorrow. I’ve already decided while eating this meal. Let’s have a completely friendly breakup. I don’t want to know the reason you left anymore because I’ve gotten used to it. The more you’ve been good to me these past months, the more… afraid I’ve become. Moreover, we can’t go back. So much time has passed, we’ve survived the hardest times. Going back, I don’t want to, because I’m afraid if you leave again, I’ll be even more heartbroken.”
Gou Hun ladled a bowl of soup and placed it in front of me, his mouth twitching: “I’ve known you for so long. How can your acting still be so bad? If you want me to reveal the reason for leaving early and keep you, you can just ask me directly.”
I looked at him unhappily: “Will you tell me?”
“No.”
Unwilling to leave his room, I couldn’t help but kick the door hard.
Marrying the God of Wealth isn’t bad – at least there’s no shortage of food and drink, dominating the mahjong table.
During the God of Wealth’s prosperous financial period, I went out early and returned late for five days, each time carrying a large bag of money back, almost filling my wooden chest. When I went on the sixth and seventh days, the people who usually played cards and mahjong were nowhere to be found. By the eighth day, still no one.
Watching the gradually dissipating financial energy, unable to find a way to make money, I was deeply frustrated.
I moved a small stool and sat in the courtyard sunbathing, thinking I’d go out again in the afternoon, or go door-to-door to find some mahjong friends.
“Rebirth,” he called me.
