Fu Yan almost vomited everything she ate. She rinsed her mouth and was just about to stumble out the door when Huo Mingzheng supported her shoulder. "Afraid of vomiting, so you didn't dare eat much?"

Fú Yán had already run out of energy to resist, and she knew that anything she did would be futile. She let out a listless hum.

Huo Mingzheng's breath suddenly sank.

Ho's secretary, that secretary who was in her early pregnancy, was also uncomfortable every day, and often had others take over her position. He had seen her a few times, and she looked very bad.

No wonder she lost weight, it turns out she couldn't eat properly at all.

She probably wouldn't be used to the food in Zurich. With the change of environment and pregnancy symptoms, it's unlikely she would gain weight.

Fu Yan looked at Huo Mingzheng's leaving figure inexplicably. She didn't know which word of hers had angered him again.

I don't know why, but this time when I saw Huo Mingzheng again, his temper became unpredictable and his emotions were very unstable.

It couldn't be that she provoked him, could it?

She didn't think she had that much influence over Huo Mingzheng.

She returned to the couch and sat down, leaning back for a moment to ease the discomfort. Her hand was burned again, and she vomited. Sleepiness seemed to decrease instead.

The nurse came in and asked her about her condition as usual. She seized the opportunity to ask if she could borrow the other person's phone.

She wanted to give Jilin a call.

But the nurse shook her head, “I’m sorry, sir instructed that you can’t have a phone.”

She helplessly spread her hands and turned to leave.

In the empty ward, Fu Yan became increasingly restless and anxious.

After an unknown amount of time, Huo Mingzheng pushed open the hospital room door and walked in.

He held a large bowl in his hand, steam rising from it.

He walked over and sat on the sofa beside Fu Yan, using a spoon to stir the contents in his bowl. Fu Yan glanced at it—bright green scallions, fragrant rice porridge, and faintly visible fish slices. A familiar aroma wafted towards her.

"Take a bite." Huo Mingzheng scooped up a spoonful, just about to bring it to her lips, but then he remembered something and instead lightly touched the spoon to his own lips.

Do not iron.

"Open your mouth," he commanded.

The spoon was already at her lips, and Fu Yan had no choice but to open her mouth. The spoon went in, the warm porridge melting on her palate. She chewed on the tender fish pieces, looking at Huo Mingzheng in disbelief.

Is there any clay pot porridge sold nearby?

This smell is very familiar, like the taste from Wang Ji's.

But how is that possible?

This is Zurich.

"I'm getting Wangji to pack up a shipment that arrived by air." Huo Mingzheng then handed her another spoonful.

Fù Yān listened obediently with her mouth agape, but she didn't believe Huo Míngzhēng's words.

It's been less than an hour since he left the ward, air transport takes at least ten hours. Besides, even if he had arranged in advance, the congee would have gone cold after such a long time. Even if it was reheated, it wouldn't taste the same and wouldn't look as good either.

This is clearly fresh out of the oven.

Remembering that he had deceived himself before, saying the noodles he ate were cooked by Cao Fang, maybe...

But this idea is too outlandish. Saying it out loud would only earn you ridicule for being overly sentimental.

She still tentatively asked, "Did you cook this?"

Huo Mingzheng’s hand holding the spoon paused.

Fu Yan asked again, "Did you go to Wang's wife to learn how to cook?"

Ho Mingzheng scooped another spoonful of fish congee to her lips, stopping her words, "Eat your congee."

(Editor in charge：define novel)