Chapter 91: What an Affectionate Call

“What is wrong with me?” Meng Yier wondered in secret.

Had she really fallen for Yan Yichen?

That cold, arrogant, overbearing man.

How could she possibly like him?

The person she should have liked was clearly Ke Sen—the idol she had admired and adored for so many years, that gentle and refined man.

She could never have fallen for the proud and domineering Yan Yichen. It had to be that in the past two days, too many things had happened between them, and she had been bewitched by him for a moment.

Yes, that must be it.

Thinking this, she finally felt the restlessness in her heart ease a little, and her emotions gradually settled.

Meng Yier felt weary in both body and spirit, so she lay on the bed for a while longer.

Around seven o’clock, Ke Sen called to say that he was already waiting downstairs. Meng Yier quickly tidied herself up and went out.

Ke Sen had chosen a Chinese restaurant. The dining atmosphere was excellent, with an antique charm and a quiet, cozy air; the restaurant’s design also offered considerable privacy. The waiter warmly led the two of them to a reserved seat, and after taking their order, stood respectfully nearby to serve them.

Ke Sen waved his hand, signaling the waiter to step away.

Yan Yichen still could not feel at ease in the end and followed all the way there.

His woman could not be taken away by anyone else.

After placing their order, they sat at a neighboring table, back to back, with only a folding screen between them.

Thus, Meng Yier did not realize that every movement of hers was being watched by Yan Yichen.

“Xiao Yi, do you like Chinese food?”

Ke Sen’s voice was as always warm and pleasant. His exceptionally handsome face wore a gentle, cultured smile, and every gesture and movement radiated the elegance and grace of a courteous gentleman.

Yes, this was the man she had always imagined.

How could she possibly like Yan Yichen, that arrogant, childish, and rude man, when such a perfect man was right before her eyes?

Realizing she was thinking of Yan Yichen again, Meng Yier’s brows knitted slightly.

“You don’t like Chinese food?” Ke Sen asked, noticing her frown, and raised his brows with a concerned look. “If you don’t, we can change to a place you prefer.”

Meng Yier paused, then quickly shook her head. “No, I really like Chinese food. After so many years in America, what I missed most was Chinese food.”

“Mm, compared with American food, I also prefer Chinese cuisine.”

“Really?”

Ke Sen nodded. The smile at the corner of his lips faded, and the warmth in his eyes dimmed.

“Xiao Yi, do you know? My mother is also Chinese...”

Xiao Yi. Xiao Yi.

He called it so intimately.

Did this girl let just anyone call her that?

That name had been hidden in his heart for sixteen years.

Those two lovely syllables—he had never called her that to her face before.

After a brief hesitation, Ke Sen went on:

“She cooked especially well. When I was little, I could eat her dishes every day, and I still remember that taste vividly to this day.”

Meng Yier idly tapped the table with her hand, the soft sound pleasant to the ear, and said earnestly, “Your mother must have been a very capable Chinese woman. Hearing you say that, I feel almost hungry enough to drool. I hope that one day I’ll be lucky enough to taste Auntie’s cooking too.”

As she spoke, Meng Yier licked her lips and smiled shyly.

Ke Sen was amused by her adorable expression. After a moment, he let the smile fade, and a deep, heavy pain flashed through his eyes.

“It’s just that... from now on, I’ll never taste my mother’s cooking again.”