Lin Che sighed. "You're overthinking it."
"I never overthink," Nan Lu said, which was a lie so large it could have had its own postal code. "And don't give me that look. I saw his face. And his mother? Please. She practically sprinted out of the dining room the moment he left."
Lin Che pressed her lips together. She didn't want to discuss this—not when her heart was already unsteady, not when she still felt the ghost of Gong Feng's gaze lingering on her cheek. "It's nothing," she repeated quietly, as if saying it twice would make it true.
Before Nan Lu could argue further, a knock sounded on the door.
Auntie Li stepped halfway inside. "Miss Lin, Madam asks if you could come to the kitchen for a moment."
Nan Lu's brows shot up.
Lin Che straightened. "Me?"
"Yes," Auntie Li said with a polite nod. "She wishes to speak with you privately."
That uneasy pressure in Lin Che's ribs flickered again, but she followed without protest. Nan Lu looked like she wanted to follow her down, but Auntie Li closed the door behind them before she could get a word out.
The hallway was quiet. The entire house was quiet, as if it were holding its breath. Auntie Li guided her toward the kitchen, where the morning sunlight was spilling across the countertops. Second Madam Gong stood by the counter, her posture immaculate, her expression unreadable. She turned at the sound of footsteps.
"Lin Che," she said, her voice smooth as porcelain. "Come here."
Lin Che obeyed.
"I apologize for rushing off," Second Madam Gong continued, as though she were discussing something trivial instead of the heavy atmosphere she had created. "There are many preparations to finalize before tonight. Which brings me to the reason I asked you down."
She studied Lin Che for a long, quiet moment.
"I know this is sudden," she said at last, "but… I would like you to prepare a dish for tonight's banquet."
Lin Che blinked. "Me?"
"Yes," Second Madam Gong said, her tone firm but not unkind. "There will be many distinguished guests attending. It would be… meaningful to have a personal touch from you."
Lin Che hesitated. "Madam Gong, I… I don't know if that's appropriate. This is your event—"
"If you don't want to, you can say so," Madame Gong cut in gently. "I will not force you. But I would truly appreciate it." Then, with a soft sigh, she added, "Rui has known you since he was a child. He has eaten your cooking for years. With everything he has been through… with everything he is about to face… I believe it would warm his heart to taste something familiar tonight."
Lin Che froze.
She hadn't said anything—not a single word—but somehow she suddenly felt cornered. Like every worry she'd tried to swallow downstairs was now staring her in the face. She didn't know what exactly had passed between the Gong family and the Ming family, but she understood one thing very clearly:
Madame Gong wasn't just asking her to cook. She was asking her to step into a role—a place—Lin Che wasn't sure she had the right to stand in.
"You don't have to do it," Madame Gong repeated, her voice softening even more. "But… if you could help him, even in this small way… I would be very grateful. And if there is anything you want in return—anything at all—you may tell me. I will not refuse."
Lin Che looked at her. The offer was generous, almost suspiciously so. It felt like being handed a contract she had never asked for. Like someone trying to buy her compliance before she even understood what game she was being drawn into.
A part of her wanted to reject it outright.
Another part—smaller, but stubborn—whispered: It's for Rui.
For the boy who once held an umbrella over her head in the rain.
For the young man who had smiled at her this morning with guilt in his eyes.
Maybe… maybe cooking for him wasn't so terrible.
Lin Che inhaled softly. "I can… make something. If it will make him happy."
For the first time that morning, Second Madam Gong's expression shifted into something warm—too warm, almost relieved. "Good. Thank you, child."
She turned toward Auntie Li. "Take her to the kitchen. Help her prepare whatever ingredients she needs. Make sure she has everything."
Auntie Li blinked, clearly taken aback. "Me? Ah—of course, Madam."
Madam Gong gave her a long, pointed look, then a thin smile. "Yes. You."
With that, she swept out of the kitchen, leaving a faint trail of perfume and a silence that felt heavier than before.
Lin Che stood there for a moment, fingers curling lightly at her sides. She didn't understand this family. She didn't understand the dynamics, the secrets, the unspoken tension that seemed to thicken the air around them. But she had agreed—and she would follow through.
"Come, Miss Lin," Auntie Li said, gently nudging her toward the counter. "Let's see what we can prepare."
Lin Che nodded, tying the apron around her waist. "Alright."