Chapter 11.1 Did you make this bowl of congee yourself?
Yuan Suo couldn’t think of anything.
“Why didn’t you tell me when you fell sick?”
“The system message has the historical record of the information you refused to tell me.”
“…. It would have disturbed your work.”
When Mo Yi Cheng looked at Yuan Suo’s drooping head, he couldn’t bear to blame him anymore and softened his voice, “From now on, no matter what happens, you have to tell me the first time it happens, okay? If I found out that you’re hiding something from me in the future, I will…. I will confiscate your laptop.”
“Oh….” He still wanted to see the movie, “A Dog’s Mission”, he hadn’t watched it for the third time yet.
“Do you understand?” Mo Yi Cheng continued.
“Uh-huh, I understand.” He nodded, sniffled, then coughed twice.
Mo Yi Cheng frowned, “Get under the blanket, there is warm water on the bedside table. Drink some first, I’ll call the doctor later.”
Yuan Suo drank the water obediently, got under the covers and lay down.
This was the first time Chen Jiao had heard the movie emperor talk in the bathroom, and the tone of his voice even had an unprecedented softness to it. Thinking about him taking the cell phone with him when he went into the bathroom… He was suddenly enlightened, then thought about it very carefully….
Mo Yi Cheng was sweating profusely. Following the instructions written by Chen Jiao on how to make the congee, he finally edited the steps for preparing it in the game clumsily, and clicked start.
Yuan Suo was looking at the blurred scenery outside the window with his chubby face on one side, completely unaware of how busy Mo Yi Cheng was at the moment.
Half an hour later, the yellow, steaming hot rice congee was ready.
Yuan Suo’s stomach was already growling, there was no refrigerator in this room, and he was thinking about his nutritious meal and snacks when a bowl of congee appeared on the bedside table, the aroma overwhelming.
“Let’s eat.” Mo Yi Cheng turned the game on, he also finally had free time for breakfast.
Yuan Suo said thank you, took the bowl of congee, filled a large spoonful, blew on it twice, and brought it to his mouth.
Mo Yi Cheng looked calm as he drank his milk.
Yuan Suo ate bite after bite, his little face bulging, lips moist.
After half a glass of milk, Mo Yi Cheng coughed, finally unable to resist as he asked, “How does it taste?”
Yuan Suo nodded his head like a hen pecking rice, “Delicious.”
Yuan Suo thought seriously, then said, “Very warm.”
He was amused but nodded his head, pretending not to care much, “Eat more.”
“Mm-hmm.” It was only after he was full that it occurred to him that there was no ready-made rice congee for sale in the food store. That was to say, Mo Yi Cheng had made it himself? “Mo Yi Cheng.” He called out, holding the empty bowl.
“Hmm?” Mo Yi Cheng had also finished his breakfast.
“Did you make this bowl of congee yourself?” He whispered tentatively.
“…. Yes.” This little thing was really a bit silly, he unexpectedly just found out only now.
Yuan Suo licked his lips with regret, whispering, “If I had known, I would have eaten slower.”
Yuan Suo only lamented subconsciously, but Mo Yi Cheng was struck by his words, only speaking after a long while, “You can always eat it later.”
“Really?” Yuan Suo’s eyes shone.
Mo Yi Cheng: “Hmm, in the future, you won’t eat nutritious meals anymore.”