The Humble Abode Is Not Humble

Han Juyou's home wasn’t far from Market Street—just a two or three-minute walk to the foot of her building.

The houses in this shantytown were all walk-ups, with no elevators. Each floor was densely packed with residents, which naturally meant plenty of accumulated trash, filling the stairwell with a pungent, rotting stench.

After passing through a dim and narrow hallway and climbing up a worn-out staircase to the fifth floor, the door on the left—still plastered with a few unpeeled flyers—was Han Juyou’s place.

"Creak… clack…"

The old iron door let out two strange noises as it opened.

Han Juyou stepped inside, changed her shoes, and found a suitable pair of slippers for Liu Muye.

"Sorry, the place is a bit messy."

"It’s fine."

Liu Muye, now in slippers, entered the apartment. It wasn’t large—just two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. The dense surrounding buildings blocked most of the natural light, leaving the interior dim unless the lights were on.

The place bore some resemblance to where he had lived as a child, giving him an inexplicable sense of familiarity the moment he stepped in.

Noticing Liu Muye glancing around, Han Juyou chuckled self-deprecatingly and said, "I hope Young Master Liu isn’t too amused by my humble abode."

Liu Muye grinned. "With you here, it’s anything but humble."

"I’ll take that as a compliment."

Covering her mouth with a laugh, Han Juyou picked up the groceries and headed into the kitchen.

A moment later, she returned.

She neatly stacked the loose change she had sorted and handed it to Liu Muye. "Here’s fifty for now. Let me know how much I owe you in total—I’ll pay you back bit by bit once I start earning from part-time work."

Liu Muye glanced at the money in her hand and said, "I’m in a good mood today. Consider the debt cleared."

Han Juyou immediately stiffened. "No way. A debt is a debt—you have to take this back!"

"Come on, fifty at a time? How long would that take?" Liu Muye pushed the money away. "You like writing, right? Pay me back once you make it big as an author."

"...Big author? Royalties?"

Repeating his words with a faint smile, she said, "Fine. Once I earn enough from writing, I’ll pay you back—though it might take a while."

Liu Muye laughed. "No rush. I believe in you. With your talent, it won’t be long before you’re a bestselling writer."

"How do you know about my talent?" The sharp-witted Han Juyou immediately caught the key detail in his words. "Did you sneak a peek at my novel last night? Where’s my notebook? Did you bring it today?"

"You really are clever." Liu Muye covered his face, amused. "It’s in my car. I’ll give it back before I leave."

"Hmph."

Pleased by his praise, Han Juyou gave a proud little hum and turned back to the kitchen.

Liu Muye followed. "Let me help with dinner."

Han Juyou waved him off. "No need. The kitchen’s tiny—just wait in the living room."

"It’s fine. Pig lungs are a pain to clean—I’ll handle them."

Rolling up his sleeves, Liu Muye got to work.

Pig lungs were among the cheapest parts of a pig—a whole pair sold for just five to ten bucks, and even then, few people bought them. The main reason was how filthy they were, requiring tedious cleaning.

You had to run water through the trachea, poke holes in the lungs with a toothpick, then rinse out all the sticky mucus and blood. The whole process was time-consuming and laborious.

Liu Muye had watched his mother clean pig lungs as a child—it usually took her over half an hour.

Now, relying on memory, he replicated her method.

At first, Han Juyou had assumed Liu Muye’s offer to help was just politeness.

In her mind, someone like him—a young master from a wealthy family—probably never even stepped into a kitchen, let alone helped with cooking. Weren’t rich heirs supposed to be pampered, unaccustomed to hard work and clueless about basic ingredients? How could he possibly manage this?

But the moment she saw how skillfully he handled the pig lungs, her prejudice vanished—he really wasn’t like other spoiled heirs.

Thinking her stare meant she didn’t trust him, Liu Muye said, "Stop watching me. Focus on your own tasks—I won’t mess this up."

"Then thank you, Young~ Master~ Liu~!" Han Juyou teased in a playful, singsong tone.

She was clearly an experienced cook, moving with practiced ease as she blanched and simmered the ribs, chopped meat and vegetables, and prepped the scallions, ginger, garlic, and spice bag for the braised lungs—her motions smooth and effortless.

By the time Liu Muye finished cleaning the lungs, they were ready to be blanched and braised.

While the lungs simmered, Han Juyou stir-fried shredded pork with green peppers. Once the lungs were done, she chilled them, sliced them thin, and tossed them with scallions, ginger, garlic, and chili peppers for a fiery stir-fry.

The final dish was stir-fried bok choy. By the time all three dishes were ready, the rib soup in the other pot had also finished simmering.

In just an hour, on a standard home stove, Han Juyou had whipped up a three-dish meal with soup. Only someone who had cooked before, like Liu Muye, could truly appreciate how impressive her skills were.

As Liu Muye carried the soup to the table, Han Juyou had already served two bowls of rice.

"Thanks."

Accepting the bowl and chopsticks, Liu Muye zeroed in on the stir-fried pig lungs.

"These lungs are amazing—spicy and fragrant!"

"The shredded pork is so tender!"

"The bok choy is so juicy!"

"And the ribs—so soft, all the flavor’s come out!"

Having slept all day and eaten nothing since afternoon, Liu Muye was ravenous. The homely flavors made his eyes light up as he shoveled food into his mouth like a starved wolf.

Watching him, Han Juyou couldn’t help but laugh. "Alright, alright, it’s all yours. No one’s fighting you—slow down."

If she hadn’t seen him driving a luxury car, she’d have doubted he was rich at all.

What kind of young master ate like he’d never had a proper meal?

Truth was, Liu Muye hadn’t had home-cooked food like this in ages.

Before transmigrating into this world, he’d lived in a rented apartment, writing novels and eating whatever was convenient—often stretching one dish over two or three days.

After transmigrating into the Liu family as the young master, he never lacked for food, but the five-star chefs’ dishes… just didn’t suit his taste.

If it weren’t against the rules, he’d have cooked his own three-dish meal long ago.

Seeing Liu Muye devour her food, Han Juyou felt an indescribable sense of pride—nothing pleased a cook more than seeing their food appreciated and polished off.

Just as they were eating, the sound of the door opening echoed again.

"Creak… clack…"

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