"My two wives, Aliya and Emily, both think my Chinese cooking is delicious. Especially Aliya, she loves my spicy chicken the most."
That sentence, like an ice cube dropped into warm lake water, instantly lowered the ambiguous temperature inside the car a bit.
Max's hand gripping the steering wheel tightened slightly, and the car let out a faint sliding sound on the snow but she quickly stabilized it.
Lin Yu'an didn't stop, he continued in a warm tone sharing their daily family life: "In fact, what I'm best at now might be baby food."
His face showed a hint of an unconscious tender smile of a father: "Salmon puree, avocado banana mash... every time I see those two little guys eating with food all over their faces..."
"They would cheerfully dance around, that feeling... how should I put it, is more satisfying than any Michelin chef's praise."
He spoke coolly, as if sharing the most ordinary family life.
Yet every word was like unavoidable snow gently tapping on Max's heart.
