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Summary
“A-Xu. I just got doused in boiling broth from shoulder to fingertips, I smell overwhelmingly of chicken soup and I almost killed you. The sun rises over the pool, feathers shine like jewels, it is a beautiful day.”
Zhou Zishu gently pulled away and squatted down in front of him. “You didn’t ‘almost kill’ me, you arrogant bastard. You didn’t even come close.” He reached out, tentatively, and cupped Wen Kexing’s jaw, forcing him to look at him. He was still awfully pale, but the vacant half-smile was gone, replaced by a barely controlled expression of agony. There was a wet stripe on his left cheek, which Zhou Zishu carefully wiped away with his thumb before sealing the acupoint in his shoulder. “Let’s have a look at your arm, shall we?”
OR: Relatively mundane kitchen disasters escalate in surprising ways at Four Season Manor.