Chapter 7: Huai City

What other bugs were thinking was none of Lin Yan's business.

Lin Yan set down his light-brain and turned to make a pregnancy meal for his Lord Husband.

Damn the original owner of this body! Locking the villain in the disciplinary room, cheating on the villain with another bug's consort behind his back!

And blowing through all the money, forcing him to borrow from the villain just to pay the villain back!

If he were Kaspar, he'd have swallowed the original owner whole and still not felt satisfied.

So right now, this instant, immediately, he was going to grind up the villain's favorability! He was going to scrape and claw his way into surviving under the villain's thumb!

He reached the kitchen.

The head chef was mid-toss, wok over roaring flame, an appetizing sour-spicy aroma filling the air.

When he saw the Male Lord deign to enter the kitchen, his heart lurched—

His mind replayed recent dishes and recipes at eight times speed, but no matter how hard he wracked his brain, he couldn't figure out where he'd violated the Male Lord's taboos.

But, taking a step back, he must have done something wrong.

Otherwise, why would the Male Lord be angry enough to come to the kitchen himself?

The head chef was a soft touch. He burst into tears on the spot, speaking with a bluntness that bypassed his brain entirely: "Your Highness, wuwu, I still have a sire to support. Please, can you not fire me?"

Lin Yan: "?"

Lin Yan was numb. He had no idea how he'd made the other cry: "I'm not firing you."

The head chef's tears stopped instantly, but while he hiccuped and sobbed, his mouth and brain were still at war: "Everyone said your temper was bad before I started working here, but I found out you're actually a really good bug. You even gave me a chance to forgive—wait, no, thank you for letting me make mistakes—"

His mouth seemed to have divorced his brain, and the word combinations were bizarre. The sentence order was jumbled, but Lin Yan still understood:

"No need to thank me. Give me the kitchen. I'll cook."

Head Chef: "."

The head chef stood frozen for three seconds, forgetting even to cry. He slapped himself hard across the face, gasping at the pain.

Holy crap.

That hurt.

Holy crap, he hadn't misheard.

The Male! Lord! Was! Going! To! Cook!

The head chef bolted, grabbing the servant chief who was arranging flowers in the living room, as if the sky had caved in: "Servant Chief, the Male Lord seems to have gone mad under our care! Will the Male Bug Protection Bureau hold us responsible?"

As he spoke, the head chef burst into tears again, his nose stinging.

The servant chief remained calm. He was a bug who had seen the world. He used his scissors to cut the stem of a lotus flower and asked, "What happened?"

*Snip.*

He cut through the stem of the lotus pod and speculated, "He's gone mad and wants to kill you? That's normal. Male Lords all have their little quirks. Lord Lin Yan is relatively reasonable—after all, he won't actually kill you, at most leave you half-dead—"

The head chef collapsed to the floor: "No. The Male Lord said he wants to cook."

*Snip.*

That was the sound of the servant chief cutting off his own finger.

By the time the female bug's powerful recovery had restored it, he spoke with the serenity of a chrysanthemum: "I told you, this is normal. It's just some little quirks of the Male Lord..."

Mid-sentence, the servant chief's voice suddenly vanished. The head chef looked up to find him already flashed to the kitchen door, choking on black smoke. He pressed against the crack, knocking frantically, saying, "Lord Lin Yan, what happened? Is there a fire? Open the door quickly!"

Lin Yan, hair scorched crisp by the smoke, cracked the door open, revealing amber cat-like pupils.

Like a guilty kitten.

"It's fine, don't worry."

Seeing him safe and sound, limbs intact, the servant chief's tone softened a little, but he still coaxed him like a child: "Normally the kitchen wouldn't have this much smoke. There could be safety hazards. Please come out first, alright? Your Highness, be good."

Lin Yan blinked, too guilty to meet the servant chief's eyes.

He closed his eyes solemnly and stated with resignation: "There are no safety hazards. I forgot to turn on the range hood."

Yes.

Lin Yan had not unlocked the cooking skill.

He'd cooked when he was young, looking after his cousins, but he'd nearly burned down his uncle and aunt's house.

Since then, he never dared to use fire again. His usual cooking was just cold assembly—no flame, whatever he could throw together. Good or bad didn't matter; it was for himself. But now—

After all that fuss.

He stared blankly at a bowl of egg noodles full of eggshells. The eggs were burnt black. A dog wouldn't eat it.

Lin Yan: "?"

Hadn't he followed the recipe?

Seeing this, the servant chief felt relieved.

A Male Lord cooking was indeed abnormal behavior.

If he hadn't seen the true face of the meal the Male Lord had prepared, he really would have contacted the Protection Bureau to report the anomaly.

Fortunately, the Male Lord had entered the kitchen to personally poison his Lord Husband!

Poison—yes, poison had to be administered by one's own hand to be trusted!

An hour later, after tinkering for half a day, Lin Yan carried a fresh bowl of egg noodles and knocked on the bedroom door.

Kaspar answered in a bathrobe, clearly fresh from a bath, warm steam softening the sharp lines of his face.

Wet black hair dripped water. A droplet slid down the vein on his neck, winding over the rise and fall of his chest, and finally vanished into the loose robe, inviting all sorts of thoughts.

Breathtakingly beautiful.

Lin Yan snuck two glances. The robe half-covered him, but the newly conceived egg wasn't showing yet, and his muscle lines were smooth and clean.

Envy.

Next time, once relations improved, he'd get the villain to train him too.

Kaspar's throat moved. He spoke first: "Lord Husband, you came to see me—do you need my service?"

Only then did Lin Yan reluctantly pull his gaze away and hold out the mediocre-looking egg noodles.

It wasn't that he didn't want to make a fresh batch.

Mainly, he'd used up every egg in the kitchen. The hens would have to cover their backsides and flee the country overnight if they saw the broken shells in the trash.

Besides, this was the best-looking of all the egg noodles he'd made.

At least it looked edible.

Guilty, Lin Yan said: "I don't need your service. I just made you something to eat. I wanted you to try it."

Kaspar froze for a moment.

Lin Yan grew more guilty: "It doesn't look like much, but try it first."

Kaspar took the chopsticks Lin Yan held out and picked up a piece of egg.

"Lord Husband eats first." He held the egg up to Lin Yan, eyes dark.

Cooking was a mandatory course for female bugs. Even Caspar, a military female, had studied it at the academy and had to graduate with honors.

Even Male Lords with no female bugs at home wouldn't cook themselves—they'd hand meals off to culinary robots.

The only reasons for a Male Lord to cook, as far as he could figure, were poison or drugs.

Unless the Male Lord dared to take the first bite.

Otherwise, he found it hard to trust.

But Lin Yan was a straight man who couldn't read micro-expressions. How could he steal his wife's pregnancy meal? He waved a hand: "I made it for you. I'm not eating."

"Really not eating?"

Lin Yan declared firmly: "Not eating."

Female bugs were always at a disadvantage before Male Lords.

If the Male Lord refused him, he couldn't force it into the Male Lord's mouth.

He'd have to find another way.

Kaspar lowered his eyes and bit down.

Then he lifted his head, grabbed the Male Lord by the collar, and yanked. Caught off guard, Lin Yan stumbled forward, forced close.

Kaspar was a military female who had ridden across battlefields for years. His strength was not something Lin Yan could resist.

Kaspar's rough, broad palm pressed down on the back of Lin Yan's head, holding him still. Warmth met Lin Yan's lips.

Lin Yan: "!"

Lin Yan: "?"

Wait, bro? Why did you just kiss me?

Huh??????

Lin Yan's brain crashed on the spot. His palms braced against the table edge until his hand hit the sharp corner. The dull pain told him he should resist, should slap the other across the face and tell him to get lost.

But the palm on his head and the arms trapping his body were like iron hoops, immovable.

His efforts were worth about as much as puppy farts.

To the other, it was nothing but tickling.

Straight man Lin Yan closed his eyes in faint despair: "..."

Then, without warning, he got a mouthful of crushed eggshell.

A very crisp sound.

Lin Yan: "?"

He chewed.

He shoved Kaspar away and spat out the eggshell: "Pfft pfft pfft."

So salty.

What a bowl of egg noodles—forfeiting color, aroma, and taste in one go.

Faintly despairing, Lin Yan said: "Don't eat these egg noodles. They don't look like something a human—no, a bug—could make. I'll improve my cooking and make them again next time."

Kaspar complied readily: "Alright."

Then he raised his wrist and glanced down at his watch. "It's already twelve. Lord Husband cooking for me is the reason you still haven't eaten. That's my failure in duty."

"Will Lord Husband give me a chance to make it up to you?"