The scent of spices and fresh herbs wafted through the small private kitchen in the inner courtyard.
Zhao Tian stood barefoot on the tiled floor with his sleeves rolled up ans hair loosely tied back.
He wasn't exactly a master in the culinary arts, but for her, he tried.
Zhou Hanyue watched from the doorway with her cheek resting against the wooden frame.
A warm smile played on her lips as she saw him fumble with the seasoning.
"You're supposed to stir that, not assault it," she teased.
Zhao Tian glanced over his shoulder "Dear, I think your 'reward' might end up burned."
She giggled, stepping forward to wrap her arms around his waist from behind and rested her chin between his shoulder blades.
"Even if it's burnt, I'll eat it. Because my husband made it."
He paused as his heart softened at the words.
"…That's unfair," he murmured, covering her hands with his own.
...
The soft rustle of willow leaves danced with the wind.
