Chapter 27: Chef or Nanny

She looked at herself then—those wide, bright eyes filled with a sorrow so deep it ached. And without warning, she lowered her head.

It was such a simple motion. But on the drive back, Xie Chengyu’s mind kept replaying that image like a broken record, stuck on repeat.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push away the jumbled thoughts.

Then his phone rang.

“Yeah?” he answered, voice flat.

“Chengyu,” Xu Ruoxin’s soft voice came through, sweet as honey. “You free tonight? Let’s grab dinner together.”

“No,” he said, tone cool. “Not hungry.”

“How about tomorrow? I kind of miss you,” she cooed, playful and light.

Xie Chengyu loosened his tie, voice even flatter. “Tomorrow.”

He hung up. He turned to his desk, ready to dive into work—only to realize his stomach was empty. He’d barely eaten lunch. It was past dinnertime. Of course he was starving.

He glanced at the calendar by reflex. Friday. By habit, Nan Xiao usually brought over either crucian carp tofu soup or fern shrimp soup on Fridays. She always made one of those two.

He remembered the taste—the rich, comforting warmth of her cooking—and his brow knitted tighter. A low irritation simmered beneath his ribs.

Meanwhile, Nan Xiao left the real estate agency and walked straight to an apartment building across from the film set.

Even though the villa in Lanting Garden had been legally hers, she and Xie Chengyu hadn’t finalized their divorce. Legally, it was still their shared home. She didn’t want to go back.

Besides, Lanting Garden was too far from the set. Too inconvenient. So she’d quickly rented a place just across the street—a fully furnished apartment, move-in-ready.

After confirming the unit’s condition and signing the digital lease, she cleaned up briefly and headed out to the market.

On her way back, she couldn’t shake the feeling someone was following her.

It wasn’t loud or obvious—just a subtle, creeping unease. But it was real.

The neighborhood was old, worn down. The security guard barely showed up anymore. Night had fallen. Her skin prickled. She quickened her pace.

Finally, she reached the stairwell. But the footsteps behind her didn’t stop.

When she sped up, they did too. When she slowed, they matched her. It felt like something was clinging to her back. Her hair stood on end.

She glanced up. Her apartment was on the second floor. The stairwell was narrow. The landlord had said the unit across the hall was vacant. If anything happened now… no matter how loud she screamed, no one would hear.

Her feet shifted sideways—she darted into the shadows.

At that same moment, a figure in a baseball cap, face masked by sunglasses and a surgical mask, stepped into the stairwell. He paused, scanning the upper floors. No one around. He turned his head, glancing left, right.

Nan Xiao watched him from the dark.

Her heart stopped.

She’d planned to bolt the second he went upstairs—slip out quietly, or scream if needed, draw attention. But this guy wasn’t moving up. He was looking around. And in a second, he’d see her.

No time to think.

She swung her bag hard—right into his face.

He staggered back, stunned.

She didn’t wait. She ran.

“Nan Xiao!!”

A furious voice cut through the silence. Footsteps pounded after her.

She froze at the stairwell entrance.

That voice…

She stared, disbelieving.

Then an arm grabbed her elbow, yanking her around.

The man pulled off his sunglasses. His eyes burned with anger.

“What the hell was that for? That hurt!” he snapped.

“…”

Nan Xiao was speechless.

She gripped his arm, dragged him into the dim corner of the stairwell, and whispered fiercely: “Xiao Zekai, are you insane? Why were you stalking me?”

She never expected the man who’d followed her all the way here to be Xiao Zekai.

Even though she’d been scarred for years, she was still tall, lean, striking. Over the years, she’d dealt with unwanted attention before. She was sensitive to it—so naturally, she’d reacted with fury.

Xiao Zekai ripped off his mask, unapologetic. “Who’s stalking you? I’m just going home. You’re the one showing up out of nowhere—this isn’t your place!”

“I live here,” she said.

“…”

One sentence. He was stunned silent.

Earlier, seeing her walk into his building, he’d thought she’d finally come to apologize. Now she lived here?

Nan Xiao saw the disappointment flash across his face. She sighed inwardly, then explained why she’d moved—why she needed a place closer to the set.

As she spoke, they climbed the stairs.

And then they realized—both apartments were in the same building. Same floor. Directly opposite each other.

Just as they reached the door, Xiao Zekai grabbed her arm.

“Today you hit me out of nowhere,” he said, grinning. “I demand compensation. Dinner.”

She gave him a look—half exasperated, half fond. “Come on, come on. Not like we’re short on food.”

He laughed, stepping inside. They headed straight to the kitchen, washing vegetables together.

Then her phone buzzed.

She glanced at the screen. Zhou Wen.

She raised an eyebrow, answering cautiously. “Hello?”

“Madam,” Zhou Wen’s voice was respectful. “Do you have time now? Mr. Xie is hungry. Your crucian carp tofu soup—it was excellent before. Could you make some and bring it over?”

“…”

Xie Chengyu wanted her food again?

Zhou Wen hadn’t said it outright—but Xie Chengyu must’ve hinted it somehow. Otherwise, why would Zhou Wen blurt that out like that?

Nan Xiao froze.

For a moment, she didn’t know what to do.

Then Xiao Zekai snatched the phone from her hand.

“No,” he said coldly. “She’s not available.”

He hung up.

Nan Xiao didn’t get angry. She’d been thinking the same thing—she didn’t want to go.

But she still lightly slapped his arm. “What was that? Don’t just grab my phone.”

She was distracted, lost in thought.

Why did Xie Chengyu want her cooking now?

Last time, he’d asked for her duzhong pigeon soup. She’d been puzzled then.

Was it because, these past three years, she’d become the image of a housewife in his mind? Was that why he wanted her to cook?

And what exactly did he think she was—his chef? His maid?

The thought tightened her fingers. She crushed the green onions in her palm.

Across town, Zhou Wen stared at the dead screen of his phone.

His expression blank. His body frozen.