But This One Meal and One Rice in the Human World

Lu Chenyuan returned to the penthouse and was greeted by the faint fragrance of lilies as soon as he opened the door.

Mo Qingli sat on the living room carpet, playing with a plush tiger alongside their freshly awakened son.

Hearing the door open, she looked up and smiled at him.

"You're back?"

"Mn."

Lu Chenyuan changed his shoes and took off his coat.

Instead of heading to the sofa, he walked straight into the kitchen.

The ingredients had already been delivered and were waiting for him.

With practiced ease, he tied on an apron.

The sound of running water soon filled the kitchen.

Mo Qingli held their son, watching the tall figure in the kitchen meticulously washing the ingredients.

His profile, sharp and defined under the bright lights.

Just two hours ago,

this man had been in a place that shaped the nation's future, debating strategies with the highest leadership.

And now, here he was, preparing a meal for her.

No matter how grand the affairs of the world, they paled in comparison to the simplicity of a shared meal.

Her heart swelled with an indescribable warmth and tenderness.

She gently placed their son in the playpen.

Then, barefoot, she padded silently to the kitchen doorway.

Leaning against the frame, she simply watched him—scaling the fish, slicing the scallions and ginger, every movement deft and deliberate.

Lu Chenyuan seemed to sense her gaze and turned.

"What is it?"

Mo Qingli didn’t answer.

She stepped forward, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist from behind.

Her cheek pressed against the broad expanse of his back,

feeling the steady warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Lu Chenyuan stiffened slightly.

He paused his task.

"Qingli, the kitchen’s full of smoke," he said, his voice uneven.

"I don’t mind."

She nuzzled against him before murmuring,

"Wherever you are, there’s only freshness and peace."

Her voice was muffled but carried a hint of playful affection.

Lu Chenyuan’s heart melted instantly.

He turned, cupped her face, and kissed her deeply.

A kiss that spoke of endless devotion and serenity.

A long moment later,

their lips parted, foreheads still touching, breaths mingling.

"I’m hungry," Mo Qingli whispered, gazing into his eyes.

"Alright, I’ll hurry."

The tenderness in his eyes flickered into flustered determination as he turned back to the fish he’d been handling—now thoroughly "abused."

Watching his slightly frantic movements, Mo Qingli couldn’t help but laugh.

The sound was light and bright,

like wind chimes dancing in midsummer.

Half an hour later,

two dishes and a soup adorned the dining table: steamed perch, scrambled eggs with tomatoes, and seaweed egg drop soup.

The simplest of home-cooked meals.

Little Lu Shi’an sat in his high chair, babbling and waving his tiny spoon, content with his specially prepared baby food.

Lu Chenyuan and Mo Qingli sat across from each other.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden glow over everything.

Mo Qingli took a bite of the fish—tender and flavorful.

"It’s delicious," she praised sincerely.

The pride in Lu Chenyuan’s chest rivaled what he’d felt after three years of strategic victories abroad.

"Then I’ll cook for you again tomorrow," he said.

"Okay."

She smiled, nodding.

This man was grounding her in the warmth of ordinary life with his simplest gestures.

After the meal, Lu Chenyuan cleared the table without prompting.

Mo Qingli busied herself wiping Lu Shi’an’s sticky hands and face with a damp cloth.

The sound of running water echoed from the kitchen.

In the living room, their son rolled on the carpet, hugging his plush tiger.

Mo Qingli’s gaze slowly swept over the spacious, almost austere penthouse.

Every piece of furniture, every decor item, exuded cool precision and restraint.

This had once been their war room, an impenetrable fortress.

Here, they’d analyzed intelligence, devised plans, and burned the midnight oil.

It had witnessed their most intense battles and their most seamless teamwork.

And it had seen her transformation—from neighbor, to ally, to the mother of his child.

This place held too much.

"Chenyuan." She leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching him wash dishes.

"Mn?" He turned, hands still soapy.

"It’s time to change this place," Mo Qingli said softly.

Lu Chenyuan dried his hands and approached, curiosity in his eyes.

"It’s too cold here." Her fingertips traced the sleek metal trim.

"It feels like a fortress, not a home."

She walked to the center of the living room, marking a circle with her toe.

"I want to create a large play area here for Shi’an—with the softest carpet so he can run barefoot."

Her eyes drifted to one of the studies, crammed with equipment and files.

"That study should become a proper family library. No screens, just books—from Shi’an’s picture books to your history collections, my business and art volumes."

"I want our home to feel warm, lived-in... gentle."

This was their beginning, the place where they’d fallen in love.

Now, with Lu Shi’an, Mo Qingli was ready to redefine their space.

She chose to plant their future like a garden atop the battlefield they’d once ruled.

Lu Chenyuan studied her—the spark of anticipation in her eyes as she mapped out their tomorrow.

"Alright," he agreed, his voice warm.

He understood: she was asking him to help turn this stronghold into a true home.

"I’ll arrange for the best designers," he added.

Mo Qingli shook her head.

"No, I’ll draft the plans myself." Her eyes gleamed with playful determination.

"Every detail of my home will be mine to decide."

Lu Chenyuan chuckled softly.

"Alright."

The afternoon slipped by in quiet, shared planning—until Zhang Qi’s call interrupted.

"President Lu, are you and President Mo doing alright?" Zhang Qi’s voice brimmed with concern.

"We’re fine," Lu Chenyuan replied, relaxed.

"Good. Everything’s stable at the company. Qin Corp and Stellar have been active lately, but it’s all within expectations."

"From now on, you and Ren Qian handle those decisions," Lu Chenyuan cut in.

A pause on the other end.

"Just one condition," Lu Chenyuan continued.

"Name it."

"Slow down the R&D team."

"Slow down?" Zhang Qi sounded baffled.

In this cutthroat market, slowing innovation meant falling behind.

"Yes." Lu Chenyuan’s tone left no room for debate.

"Tell Ruo Xi and Su Yang—no rushing the next tech iteration."

"I need them to dedicate their energy over the next few years to building the most fundamental theoretical framework."

"I need a foundation that will lead the way for the next two decades."

Zhang Qi fell silent.

In an instant, he understood Lu Chenyuan's intention.

While everyone else was scrambling to erect skyscrapers,

this man had already begun defining the geological structure of the future.

"I understand, President Lu."

"No need to call me President Lu anymore," Lu Chenyuan said quietly.

"You can call me Mr. Lu, or just Old Lu."

With that, Lu Chenyuan hung up the phone.

Lu Chenyuan saw that Mo Qingli had already gathered paper and pens and was sprawled on the carpet, sketching a rough draft of their new home.

Lu Shi'an sat beside her, watching curiously as lines and colors took shape under his mother's hand.

The fading glow of the sunset stretched their silhouettes long across the floor, the scene as warm as a classical oil painting.

He walked over and gently wrapped his arms around them from behind.

The three of them stood quietly, gazing out the window—

at the city they were about to become part of once more,

and at the sketch where the shape of their home was slowly coming into focus.

The wind stilled.

And home began.