Cheng Zhirang felt a little helpless.

This enormous misunderstanding, he didn’t know how to explain it clearly to his future mother-in-law—he really didn’t often order takeout with her.

After sighing, he used his left hand to reach for her waist, pulling her closer to him, and asked, "Besides that, what else does Auntie find unsatisfactory about me?"

"I found that all three of you were acting strange today."

Mu Qiu leaned back, distancing herself to examine him thoroughly.

"My parents were just opposing us being together, but right after seeing you, they started asking about your height, weight, and family background.

And you, now you’re asking about their satisfaction with you. Since when did the boyfriend evaluation project include parent evaluations?"

Cheng Zhirang remained calm and unhurried, neither dodging nor avoiding her gaze:

"It’s your thinking that’s off. Just being boyfriend-girlfriend, can’t we meet each other’s parents and earn their approval? We’re talking about a love that everyone knows about, not a hidden agreement that ends in half a month."

This made her feel like a scumbag who enjoys without commitment.

Mu Qiu coughed once, then lay back down, leaning on him: "That’s not what I meant. I just think you all were too serious today."

"I just want to leave a good impression on Uncle and Auntie, to let them know that I can take good care of you."

That makes sense; who doesn’t want to leave a good impression on their lover’s parents?

She thought for a moment, then asked, "When I called you earlier, were you with your parents?"

Cheng Zhirang just quietly looked at her.

Mu Qiu’s eyes widened slowly, sitting up straight and pointing at him: "You’re lying?!"

Cheng Zhirang actually learned to lie?!

"I ran into friends back then, they were all there, and you’ve met two of them before, Wei Ling and Lin Huanyue. When I left, they probably guessed what it was about, most likely will bring it up."

"So, who invited us to dinner, you or your parents?" She hit the nail on the head, pointing out the main issue.

Cheng Zhirang paused and honestly said, "Me."

Mu Qiu looked at him with reproach.

He explained, "I can’t do nothing just because my parents temporarily don’t know your parents are here, that’s impolite. Besides, I think Uncle wants to know more about us, and inviting them over for dinner is the most convenient. The place isn’t by my parents, it’s at Half Mountain. Just treat it like going for a night snack as usual, don’t feel burdened."

"Since when is a night snack eaten in front of both parents?" she mumbled, looking back up at him.

Cheng Zhirang let her look, never loosening his hold on her waist.

After a while, she moved closer, like a cat that finds food has appeared, squinting and asking him nonchalantly.

"Do you think, as people age, they want a home? Longing to enjoy a warm moment when someone asks if your porridge is warm?"

"......"

He helplessly closed his eyes, feeling her somewhat capricious questions were simply meant to torture.

How should he answer? That he’s not old enough to want a home? Or admit he’s old?

It’s an unanswerable question.

He could only sigh and pat her back, once more scolding her, "Speak properly."

Mu Qiu shrugged: "I’m discussing a meaningful topic with you. Or do you think, since we’ve been together for such a short time, we shouldn’t discuss matters elevated to the level of family?"

"Of course we can discuss it. Go on."

Mu Qiu propped herself on his shoulders, kneeling on his lap, gossip-like: "Do you want a home?"

"Everyone wants a home."

"What kind of home do you want? Coming home from work to see your wife busy cooking for you in the kitchen, and your child hugging your leg calling you Dad?"

Cheng Zhirang recalled what Assistant Wen said that day, but just for a moment, as he answered her with reason.

"These two things you mentioned are not necessary conditions. A home doesn’t necessarily need a busy wife; marrying her to form a family is because I like her, for many reasons, but certainly not just because she can cook."

"So?" She felt intrigued, as the two discussed the concept of marriage and home with a researcher’s mindset. "So, what kind of home do you want? What kind of wife?"

"I can’t describe it specifically; you’ll know when it happens."

"So, have you met her now?"

"I have one, but the other party doesn’t seem very willing to build a family with me, just wanting to have some fun and leave."

Mu Qiu pretended to angrily punch him: "When did I make it just for fun?"

Cheng Zhirang laughed softly, removing her support on his shoulders and letting her fall into his arms, catching her, and saying, "Then perhaps I misunderstood. Do you want to build a family with me?"

"Not exactly," she said frankly, "we’ve been together for such a short time, even if we’re compatible in bed, it’s not like we should be talking about building a family now."

Compatible in bed...

She always spoke boldly, occasionally surprising him. He skipped over her bold wording, asking again: "Then when?"

"Wait until, waking up one morning, it suddenly feels like the right time."

An elusive answer.

Cheng Zhirang stroked her hair, gently said: "You’re quite carefree. Well, you are still young, seeing more and adapting is a good thing. When I was twenty-two or twenty-three, I didn’t even feel the impulse for love."

"So that’s to my advantage."

She nestled in his arms, looking up into his eyes, and finally asked: "You’re really not in a hurry to get married?"

She felt that bringing the two families together over a meal was moving toward marriage. Although, such a stunning person, just for her urgency to marry, seemed unlikely, she just had this narcissistic intuition.

"Not in a rush."

He also saw her uneasiness, his movements in stroking her hair grew gentler.

"Having the families meet for dinner to establish a good relationship doesn’t imply anything else; you don’t have to worry. If you really don’t want to go, I’ll tell my parents that we temporarily cancel tomorrow’s dinner."

Mu Qiu shook her head.

"That’s impolite."

Cheng Zhirang’s lips curved slightly, lifting her head and rubbing his finger at the corner of her eye.

"I noticed your eyes were red when you came, what happened? Did Uncle scold you?"

"Not exactly."

She buried her head in his chest, her voice muffled: "They woke up really early, taking a flight here, bringing a very large, super heavy suitcase, but most of it was filled with food I love..."

"You and Uncle are quite alike, but you’re more expressive than him. They love you very much, just express it in ways you may not like.

But you don’t have to be too bothered, relationships aren’t always about figuring everything out, explaining them clearly for the other or oneself to change into a way that both like."

————

Mr. Mu: See, I said this person doesn’t show emotions, it’s hard to suppress.