Ever since Qin Mu said last night that he would give up this house for An Lin to live in, after he moved out, An Lin felt guilty.
The next morning, for the first time ever, An Lin got up earlier than Qin Mu, wanting to show some initiative by making breakfast for him.
Even though it was the weekend, Qin Mu, who was used to getting up early, woke up at seven.
As soon as he opened the door to the guest room, the smell of burnt food assailed his nostrils. Qin Mu frowned, his narrow eyes looking towards the kitchen.
Taking a few steps and looking through the glass door, he saw An Lin busily moving about in the kitchen, which made his frown deepen. He quickly approached her, "An Lin, what are you doing?"
"Ah!"
His voice was deep and carried a tone of reproach, which also came so suddenly that An Lin, who was in the midst of transferring a fried egg to a plate, trembled with fright. The egg, which she had managed to fry successfully, fell onto her foot the next second.
