Chapter 30: Yan Yichen’s Nanny (2)

Sadist?

Meng Yier was momentarily taken aback. Clearly, he had no intention of letting her off so easily.

A sly glimmer quickly flickered in her eyes. If he wanted to eat her cooking, that could be arranged. Since she couldn’t make him let her go, she’d make him want to let her go himself.

If he dared to eat, she naturally dared to cook.

“What’s the matter? You can’t cook?” Yan Yichen looked up at her in puzzlement when she didn’t respond.

Meng Yier gave a servile little laugh and waved her hands quickly. “Of course I can cook; it’s simple! I absolutely can—” she said with an expression full of earnest conviction.

Yan Yichen studied her thoughtfully and nodded.

“Where’s the kitchen?”

“Over there—” Yan Yichen pointed behind her.

—

An hour later

Yan Yichen sat at the dining table, gazing at a bowl of plain porridge and two plates of unidentifiable, charred dishes that exuded a faint burnt odor. His Adam’s apple bobbed twice as he struggled to swallow.

He really shouldn’t have placed any hopes on her.

He’d considered that she might not be good at cooking, but he hadn’t expected it to be quite like this.

“Miss Meng, did you make this meal?” Yan Yichen looked at the somewhat disheveled Meng Yier in disbelief, finding it almost amusing.

Meng Yier glanced at her creations, forcing a sheepish smile. “Well, it doesn’t look all that great—” she murmured.

Then she picked up her chopsticks, grabbed some food, and unceremoniously deposited it on the plate in front of Yan Yichen.

“Mr. Yan, although my dishes might not look particularly appetizing, the taste should be all right. I put in everything that was supposed to go in—go on, try it.”

Yan Yichen stared at the plate before him, a sense of despair filling his heart. “Are you sure?”

Seeing his hesitation, Meng Yier nodded emphatically. “Of course! Mr. Yan, you should eat it while it’s hot.”

With that, she quickly added two more helpings to his plate, suppressing a mischievous smile.

Yan Yichen noticed all her little tricks; her intentions were clear as day.

She was doing this on purpose!

He pressed his lips together, finally picking up his chopsticks and placing some of the food into his mouth. Meng Yier watched him with wide, curious eyes.

Heavens, it was truly… unforgettable!

Yan Yichen’s brow furrowed slightly, a cold flash in his deep eyes. This girl was ruthless—had she poured in all the salt?

She wanted him to throw her out, but he refused to grant her wish.

He’d gone to great lengths to get this chance to be near her. How could he give up so easily?

Suppressing the urge to spit out the food, he forced himself to chew twice before swallowing it with difficulty. His face remained impassive, as if the taste was tolerable. “Hm—”

“How is it?” Meng Yier asked anxiously, but judging by his expression, it didn’t seem to have had the desired effect.

“As you said, Miss Meng, the taste isn’t bad—” he said with feigned ease, coolly taking another bite.

“Miss Meng, wouldn’t you like to try your own cooking?” Yan Yichen smiled gently, placing some food on her plate. Meng Yier looked at him, then at the food she’d made.

Tastes all right? That can’t be…

She picked up her chopsticks and took a bite, but before she could even chew, she spat it all out and grabbed a glass of water, gulping it down desperately.

That scoundrel, tricking her again!

He said it tasted fine, but she had put in nearly half a bag of salt.

Yan Yichen watched her scrunched-up, miserable face as she drank water, and burst out laughing.

“So? Miss Meng, not bad, is it?”

Meng Yier glared fiercely at the man before her—usually so arrogant and aloof, and now laughing out loud at her expense—her anger rising uncontrollably.

“Mr. Yan, do you find it amusing to make fun of me like this?”

Yan Yichen stopped laughing; his handsome face quickly returned to its usual composure. “Miss Meng, this is simply using your own methods against you.”

Remembering she’d tried to outsmart him first, Meng Yier said nothing more. After a long silence, she softened her voice and spoke slowly,

“Mr. Yan, I truly can’t cook or do housework. You’d be better off finding someone else. I could help you hire a professional housekeeper or a part-time maid—anyone would do a better job than I can, and I can cover the cost.”