Chapter 115: Sumptuous Breakfast

The next morning, Song Tingshen dressed neatly and looked refreshed, even unusually using hair wax to sweep his hair into a large pompadour at the back. The usually stern lines on his face now carried a trace of a smile.

Jiang Yuan saw him and nearly jumped, then laughed.

“Truly, a thousand-year-old iron tree has finally bloomed. Tingshen, you don’t look like you’re heading to get married at all—you look more like you’re going to raise the flag in Beijing. So prim and proper, you’re taking this exaggeration too far.”

Song Yanqiu wheeled himself over from behind.

“Don’t tease Tingshen. He’s nearly thirty now, and finally someone’s willing to marry him.”

Jiang Yuan covered her mouth and chuckled softly.

Song Tingshen paid them no mind. Ignoring their banter, he turned to his elder brother.

“Brother, you look much more energetic every day lately.”

At these words, Jiang Yuan’s eyes sparkled with stars.

“Yes, yes, it’s not just my imagination! When I massage your brother these past few days, I always notice his leg muscles are far stronger than before, firmer to the touch. And his skin on his legs is much more ruddy too—previously it looked pale and washed out, but now it’s white with a healthy glow.”

Jiang Yuan grew more animated, making Song Yanqiu feel a touch embarrassed.

“All right, Tingshen, you’re not heading out to fetch wedding photos now, are you? Go quickly. Once you have the pictures, you’ll go register?”

Song Tingshen gave a soft hum. “Mm.”

Song Yanqiu smiled warmly. “Congratulations. Wish you smooth sailing.”

The words had barely left his mouth when Song Qingfeng descended from upstairs. Their gazes met, and for a moment both father and son felt uncomfortable.

The rift between them ran deep. Even though everyone now believed Song Tingshen had amnesia, he still kept his distance from Song Qingfeng.

Today was a major milestone for Song Tingshen. As a father, he ought to offer some auspicious words, yet Song Qingfeng opened his mouth several times only to remain silent.

After hesitating for a long while, he looked at Jiang Yuan. “Where’s your mother? Downstairs?”

Jiang Yuan noticed the awkward tension between the two men and offered a helpless smile before answering.

“Mom received an emergency call from the hospital this morning and left just now. Dad, are you going to work? I’ll go downstairs and make breakfast for you.”

Song Qingfeng waved his hands quickly. “No need, no need. You’re carrying a big belly—too inconvenient for you. I’ll eat something simple at the cafeteria.”

The moment the sentence ended, the clatter of pans drifted up from the kitchen below, accompanied by a faint, rich aroma of freshly prepared food. Jiang Yuan muttered to herself, “Mom left, who’s cooking?”

The next second she realized, and turned sharply toward Song Tingshen.

Song Tingshen had the same thought. He opened his mouth to speak when Zhong Xiao’s voice floated up from the stairs. “Are you all awake? Breakfast is ready—come down and eat quickly.”

Sure enough, it was Zhong Xiao.

Everyone hurried downstairs, with Song Tingshen leading the way.

Song Tingshen watched Zhong Xiao moving gracefully in the kitchen, wearing an apron, his eyes filled with heartache.

“When did you wake up?”

He glanced at the abundant spread. “Making all these dishes must have taken at least an hour or two, right? Then you must have been up before five?”

It was only seven o’clock now, yet Zhong Xiao had already prepared a table overflowing with breakfast—color, aroma, and flavor in perfect balance.

There were red bean soups, tofu puddings, fresh soybean milk, fried dough sticks, griddle cakes, steamed eggs, salted eggs, scrambled eggs, and soft-boiled eggs—every kind imaginable, endless variety.

Song Tingshen stared in shock. Even Song Qingfeng, who had seen countless scenes, was incredulous. His eyes widened. “Xiaoxiao, did you make all this?”

Among those present, only Jiang Yuan remained unsurprised.

She knew Zhong Xiao’s cooking skills were second to none in the entire military region. Every dish was perfectly seasoned, fragrant, and flavorful, with a uniquely sweet taste that set it apart.

Jiang Yuan couldn’t quite describe the secret of that flavor, but everything tasted sweeter, more delicate than anything she had ever eaten before.

It was sweet without being cloying, melting on the tongue, leaving a lingering, indescribable sensation long after the last bite.

It was hard to put into words, yet it was simply delicious.

Now in the late stages of pregnancy, Jiang Yuan had been living on Zhong Xiao’s cooking for days and felt her belly had expanded noticeably, her weight climbing rapidly, her entire figure plumper than before in every dimension.

Whenever she stepped outside, passersby would smile and say, “That belly is so big and round—inside must be a chubby boy who loves to eat and sleep!”

“Dajie, these are for brother.” At that moment, Zhong Xiao took out a small plate from the kitchen, arranged two salted eggs, a fried dough stick, and a glistening golden lump that looked fresh and tempting. “I made crab roe crispy just for you.”

Song Tingshen asked, “What’s this?”

Zhong Xiao replied softly, “Crab yolk crispy. I made it specially for you.”

Song Tingshen’s lips curved into the faintest smile.

He had never tasted Zhong Xiao’s crab yolk crispy. How had she made it for him alone?

This silent thought slipped naturally into Zhong Xiao’s ear.

Zhong Xiao rolled her eyes, then said to Song Tingshen, “I’ll make it for you again tonight. Morning time is tight—I didn’t have time. In the evening I’ll give you two crab yolk crisps, all right?”

Only then did Song Tingshen relax. The tension in his brows eased, his lips parted, and a faint curve appeared at the corners of his mouth.

Jiang Yuan watched her younger brother’s tender expression, shook her head, and took the plate from Zhong Xiao’s hands without ceremony, smiling. “Thank you, Xiaoxiao. Your brother has been counting down the hours until your food arrives.”

Since Zhong Xiao began cooking for the family, Song Yanqiu’s portions had grown dramatically—three or four times what they once were. Each meal now started with at least two large bowls of rice. His face had rounded, and whether in spirit or physique, he looked healthier than ever, improved in every way.

Zhong Xiao glanced at the clock in the living room and exclaimed, “Oh no, it’s already past seven! Uncle Song, Tingshen, you two eat first. I’ll change into something else and come down, then we can head out.”

Song Tingshen asked, “Have you eaten?”

“Eaten, eaten,” Zhong Xiao replied. “I had a few bites while cooking. You go ahead—I’ll change and be right down.”

Once Zhong Xiao had gone upstairs, Jiang Yuan gently tugged Song Tingshen’s sleeve and spoke earnestly.

“Tingshen, Xiaoxiao is our family’s lucky star. I don’t know why, but ever since she moved in, everything around here just… keeps getting better.”

“I haven’t seen you smile in years, haven’t seen you speak spontaneously. But look at you now—talking and laughing with me every day, full of energy. She’s a good girl. You got your certificate today, so from now on she’s part of our Song family. Whatever she wants, you give it to her. Don’t treat her poorly. Treat her like the apple of your eye—love her, protect her, spoil her. Don’t let anyone bully her. I only have you as a brother-in-law, so remember this: don’t let her suffer any grievances, understand?”

Song Tingshen took a slow sip of soybean milk. Rich, sweet, and fragrant, the warm liquid carried a faint, clean aroma that slid down his throat, through his esophagus, and into his stomach. The drink left him feeling refreshed and wonderfully at ease.

The summer on Taizhou Island was scorching hot, yet this simple bowl of soybean milk left him with a cool, invigorating sensation from the inside out.

Song Qingfeng finished his own bowl and said solemnly, “Don’t worry, sister-in-law. I’ll use my life to protect Xiaoxiao.”