Chapter 34 — Mu Ran Has No Sense of Taste?

"Director, what are you laughing at? Director?" Qi Jun waved his hand in front of Gao Minglang’s face, who was grinning with his face full of wrinkles.

"It's nothing, it's nothing," Gao Minglang waved his hand. "Xiao Ran and Mr. Gu didn't succeed in this round either. We still have three more rounds of games left, so everyone still has a chance. Don’t lose heart."

"Director, the next three rounds won't all be dipping vegetables into sauce again, will they?" Yun Fu nibbled on the cucumber in her mouth, making a little face as she chewed without savoring the taste—not because the dishes weren’t good, but because they were all cold. In this snowy village, the temperature was so low that she could barely force herself to swallow.

Gao Minglang only smiled mysteriously and didn’t reply.

In the rounds that followed, Bai Zehan and Yun Fu seemed to be on a roll, succeeding time and again, earning themselves Northeast specialties like sweet and sour pork and braised pork knuckle.

The others weren’t so lucky. Gao Tiange and Song Xiao, the pair of intern lovers, only succeeded once, so they got a plate of Northeastern-style kung pao chicken. Qi Jun and Fu Jiaojiao succeeded twice and got a platter of spicy boiled pork slices.

Only Mu Ran and Gu Beicheng failed every single time. Mu Ran seriously suspected the man was doing it on purpose—and so was the production team! Every hint card she drew had the word “husband” on it; the show was clearly milking her for drama!

Gu Beicheng glanced at the two tomatoes and three raw eggs in front of Mu Ran and gave a lazy smile. “Sorry, Mu Ran.”

Mu Ran shot him a sidelong glance—there wasn’t the slightest trace of apology in his tone. What was she supposed to do with raw eggs and tomatoes? She was hopeless at cooking!

With a huff, Mu Ran said coldly, “Get off the kang and come help me cook!”

Gu Beicheng stretched his long legs and obediently followed her into the kitchen.

“Mu Ran, Teacher Cheng, you’ve worked so hard—let’s start eating,” Qi Jun said with a gloating grin as he chewed his meat, waving at Mu Ran.

Qi Jun turned to Fu Jiaojiao, who sat across from him with a look of utter disdain. “What’s wrong, Miss Fu? Don’t like the spicy pork slices?”

Fu Jiaojiao haughtily refused even to look at Qi Jun’s annoying face. “Hmph, of course I don’t like it. If it weren’t for you, why would I be eating this awful spicy pork? I can’t eat chili!”

“Ugh, you’re so unreasonable! How is everything my fault? It takes two to tango. Anyway, my Ran-jie didn’t succeed even once, but she didn’t complain about Teacher Cheng. You should take a good look at yourself—you act like a cranky old lady!”

Qi Jun really couldn’t stand Fu Jiaojiao’s personality; her face might be pretty but her character was a huge letdown.

During the break, his agent kept warning him to be more polite, especially to Fu Jiaojiao, so her fans wouldn’t cause trouble. But Qi Jun couldn’t care less—anyone who actually liked her must be as odd as she was. Talking to her was enough to give him a headache. He simply pushed the plate of spicy pork slices in front of himself. “If you’re not eating, I’ll have it all.”

Fu Jiaojiao, eyeing the other couples’ food, waved him off indifferently. “Suit yourself.”

While the group inside enjoyed their meal, the two in the kitchen were flustered and busy.

Gu Beicheng had his sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms. His large, elegant hands gripped a small knife as he neatly sliced tomatoes on the cutting board.

“You’re wasting those hands with a knife,” Mu Ran leaned against the counter, arms folded, completely relaxed. “If you ever stop being a ski instructor, you could be a hand model, or just make a living off your face.”

Hearing her tease, the man paused and looked up. “Are the eggs beaten?”

“All done. But you’ll need to pick out some shell pieces.” Mu Ran looked completely at ease, nothing like the woman who’d just cried out, “What do I do?” when the egg yolk dripped onto her hand.

Gu Beicheng asked, “Are you going to stir-fry, or should I?”

“Of course I’ll do it. You’re just my assistant.”

Seeing he didn’t object, Mu Ran felt a little uneasy—she was clueless in the kitchen. Her bright eyes locked onto his.

Was this infuriating man really going to let her do it? Did he really expect her to cook? Which came first in stir-fried tomato and eggs—the tomato or the egg? Or was it the chicken or the egg?

“Tomatoes are sliced, eggs are shell-free. Go ahead and show off your skills,” Gu Beicheng washed his hands, dried them, patted her head, then her back gently. “Need any help?”

“No,” Mu Ran replied, launching into a smoky, clumsy operation. Ten minutes later, a plate of golden, fragrant stir-fried tomato and eggs was ready.

Her fox-like eyes curved into a sly arc, and her rosy face broke into a proud smile. She held the plate up to Gu Beicheng. “Taste it.”

He looked down at the much shorter woman before him, and for a moment, his usually cold, indifferent heart trembled. Mu Ran wasn’t as frosty as she seemed; she was soft beneath it all.

“Alright,” he said, tasting a bite. With such good presentation, it couldn’t be too bad.

But…

Gu Beicheng’s expression became complicated. He pressed his lips together, finding the food hard to swallow. Yet Mu Ran’s lively eyes were full of hope, watching him expectantly—he couldn’t bear to disappoint her.

But why was there sesame oil in stir-fried tomato and eggs?

“What’s wrong? Does it taste bad?” Mu Ran sounded disappointed, because she…

“No, it’s delicious,” he replied gently. “I brought some beef jerky—want to try?”

Mu Ran nodded. “Sure, I’ll try my own cooking. It must be delicious.”

Gu Beicheng watched as she took bite after bite, grinning and boasting, “It’s really good!”

“Mu Ran, don’t you notice the numbing taste?” he asked, puzzled.

“No, is there? Is it numbing?” Mu Ran was confused—had she added sesame oil? She hadn’t known what any of those bottles were, so she’d just poured some of everything in.

Gu Beicheng’s gaze deepened. He sensed something was off but couldn’t be sure. “Here, try this beef jerky.”

He pulled a piece from his pocket, unwrapped it for her, and offered it. “Taste this.”

“Sure, I didn’t expect you to carry beef jerky around.”

“Because you like it.”

Mu Ran froze—how did he know she liked it?

“Weibo,” Gu Beicheng smiled.

She tasted the jerky. “Pretty good, thanks. Let’s take the stir-fried tomato and eggs inside.”

“Wait, what flavor is the beef jerky?”

She didn’t know why he was asking, but how could she answer?

Because she honestly couldn’t tell what flavor it was.

“Uh, five-spice.”

Suddenly, Gu Beicheng caught her hand, his handsome face so close their breaths mingled. “How long has it been?”

“What do you mean, how long?”

“Your sense of taste.”

Mu Ran was surprised he had figured out she couldn’t taste.

“My sense of taste is just fine. Let’s go inside.” She nudged him away, clearly unwilling to say more.

Gu Beicheng felt a pang in his heart. Mu Ran was so strong it was almost heartbreaking. Not being able to taste was a cruel thing, yet she acted as if it didn’t matter.

On the deserted island, she’d told him herself which foods were good, but he’d never guessed she couldn’t taste them at all.

Meanwhile, the live stream comments flew by—

"Cheng Bei Gu is so gentle."
"He's only gentle with Mu Ran!"
"Does Mu Ran really have a problem with her sense of taste?"
"Suddenly remembered she was on a variety show where a senior kept making her eat cured meat."
"Can you lose your sense of taste from eating cured meat?"
"Serves her right for flirting with every man she meets!"
"She deserves it! Why only her sense of taste? Why isn't she blind too?"
"Keyboard warriors above are disgusting!"
"Her taste problem must be from that show!"

After Mu Ran and Gu Beicheng went inside, Qi Jun came over. “Ran-jie, your cooking’s not bad!”

He reached for a piece of egg but got his hand slapped away.

“If you want to eat, make it yourself. Isn’t the spicy pork enough for you?”

“Qi Jun, let’s give them the spicy pork and trade for the tomato and eggs. That’s fair, right?” Fu Jiaojiao wore a smug, condescending look as if bestowing a favor.

“Fu Jiaojiao, did you even ask me?” Qi Jun looked at Mu Ran. If she really wanted it, he couldn’t refuse. Ran-jie was a bit aloof, but she was decent—unlike some others.

“No need,” Mu Ran replied. She knew perfectly well that Fu Jiaojiao was never so kind—she was full of schemes.