Chapter 9: The Quirky Cooking Auntie

Page (1/3)

Seeing that the man had calmed down, Jiang Mi felt a slight relief and sleepiness washed over her. She truly drifted off in a daze. Wen Zongfu, hearing her steady breathing, propped himself up and, bathed in the moonlight streaming through the window, studied her.

Her face was as small as a palm, peaceful in slumber. After watching for a while, he thought that marrying a wife like her wouldn't be so bad. The room felt warmer and more inviting with an extra person inside.

The next morning

Jiang Mi woke up to find no one beside her. She checked the sunlight and realized it must be quite late, so she quickly got dressed, freshened up, and went downstairs.

There was a cook in the Wen household who was preparing breakfast, and the table downstairs was already set. Factory Director Wen was reading the newspaper.

“Dad, good morning,” Jiang Mi greeted him first.

Director Wen glanced up, smiled, and said, “You’re up? Just in time for breakfast.”

Jiang Mi nodded and went into the kitchen to help carry the dishes.

The cook glanced at Jiang Mi and, for some reason, suddenly said, “You’re very lucky. Marrying into the Wen family means a comfortable life.”

Jiang Mi paused, looking at her with an ambiguous expression. It wasn’t that she was overly sensitive, but the cook’s words carried a subtle, unsettling tone.

Still, Jiang Mi chose not to argue or respond, pretending not to catch the underlying meaning, and carried the breakfast out.

Page (2/3)

Madam Wen also came over, smiling when she saw Jiang Mi, because Wen Zongfu had just returned home on time. Previously, they rarely saw that mischievous boy at the breakfast table—either he was still asleep or had been absent all night.

The four of them sat around the breakfast table. Jiang Mi ate deliberately and gracefully, her demeanor refined. Madam Wen grew increasingly pleased, thinking she didn’t seem like a country girl.

Wen Zongfu, glancing at his mother’s expression, wanted to laugh. “I think this daughter-in-law is here for you.”

“Get lost,” Madam Wen scolded him with a laugh. “I just see how fond you are of little Mi.”

“Little Mi, from now on, this is your home. Don’t be shy.”

“Okay, Mom, I understand,” Jiang Mi replied with a smile. The atmosphere at the table was warm and harmonious.

For some reason, the cook suddenly slammed the last portion of salted vegetables in front of Jiang Mi before returning to the kitchen.

Jiang Mi glanced at her retreating figure, then looked at the table. In front of her were only small dishes and salted vegetables, while in front of Wen Zongfu were eggs and pan-fried meat slices.

But within a second, she saw the salted vegetables in front of her being taken away and replaced with a serving of pan-fried meat, and an egg was also placed before her.

She looked up and met Wen Zongfu’s half-smiling face. “What are you staring at? Eat.”

Jiang Mi nodded and didn’t hesitate. The Wen family’s food was good, and she was certainly satisfied.

Page (3/3)

It was just that Madam Wen’s teasing gaze was so obvious that Jiang Mi’s cheeks flushed slightly.

After breakfast, Madam Wen and Director Wen both had to leave for work. One was the factory’s deputy director, the other the supervisor—they were both very busy.

The house was left with only Wen Zongfu and Jiang Mi. Wen Zongfu leaned by the kitchen and chatted briefly with the cook. When Jiang Mi walked over, she happened to see the cook looking displeased and even subtly glaring at her.

Jiang Mi felt helpless. Having just married in, she couldn’t act like the lady of the house, nor did she want the Wen family to think she was troublesome, starting conflicts with the cook right away.

She didn’t really mind and didn’t want to quarrel with the cook anyway, as the latter couldn’t affect her much.

However, since the cook had such an attitude, Jiang Mi wouldn’t put on a friendly face either. Her expression remained calm, though she wondered why the cook bore a grudge against her—it must be for some reason.

Before leaving, Wen Zongfu said to her, “I’m going out to work, you…”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Jiang Mi interrupted. She did have her own things to do. Once Wen Zongfu left, she went upstairs to her room, took out her notebook, and began to write.

At this point, her memories were incomplete. She could only recall certain events selectively. Returning to youth, making money was important, but she also wanted to cherish her youth and the studies she had to abandon last life because of marriage.