Tears suddenly rolled down, and Wei Anning quickly grabbed a tissue to wipe them away. She glanced at Gong Ting awkwardly, "It's a bit spicy, but it's amazing to have such authentic Sichuan cuisine in Birmingham."
"If you like it, I'll cook it for you every day," Gong Ting said without revealing the truth. Seeing her cry made his heart ache, and this empathetic pain he felt for her only put pressure on her.
But Ning'er, if not for this, what else can I do?
Wei Anning silently finished the spicy fish stew, the chili water stinging on her chapped lips was both painful and spicy, yet she didn't stop. It was almost self-torture, as if finishing everything he made would ease the sadness in her heart.
Gong Ting knew she had gastric issues, so he hadn't added much chili. Watching her gasp for breath while eating fiercely, his heart felt like it was being sliced by a rusty knife, a dull pain.
He said softly, "Don't eat if it's too spicy, your stomach isn't well."
