Zhao Qichen didn't just wait in the dining room like some big shot. He went to his room, changed out of his suit into a simple short-sleeved shirt and pants, and came into the kitchen. "Let me help. What can I do?"
A small smile played on Cheng Qingci's lips. "You can get the rice, then. I'm almost finished here."
Zhao Qichen agreed. "The soup pot is hot. I'll get it in a minute, so don't touch it."
"Alright, I won't argue with you," Cheng Qingci said, putting down the soup ladle. "In my family, my dad does the cooking and my mom does the dishes—though she doesn't have to wash much, since we have a dishwasher. But my dad is always the one who handles things like carrying the hot soup pot."
His back to her as he scooped the rice, Zhao Qichen heard this and remarked sincerely, "Your parents have a wonderful relationship."
Cheng Qingci turned to look at him, but she could only see his back. "It's pretty normal, isn't it? A lot of families are like that."
