"Maybe… I shouldn't make a comeback." Chen Xiaoxi's voice was low, tinged with reluctance. "Being an online singer… it seems so hard to succeed."
No matter what, she felt Yichen had already given up too much for her, and she wanted to persuade him one more time.
"It's not hard!" Zhang Yichen turned his head, locking eyes with her. His gaze held a confidence so deep it was almost bottomless. "If something is truly good, people will find it no matter how hidden it is."
"But…" Her voice was hoarse, as if she were suppressing something. "You clearly have better options. You don't need to be dragged down by me."
Yichen didn't answer right away. After a brief pause, his eyes returned to her—steady and unshakable. "You think you're dragging me down?"
Chen Xiaoxi's lips trembled, but no words came out. She didn't know how to respond. The flood of emotion in her chest rose like a tide, pressing so hard she could barely breathe.
"If I really am a burden to you, then I…" Her voice grew softer and softer until it was almost a whisper.
"People say pregnancy makes women foolish for three years. Looks like you've really gone dumb!" Yichen tilted his head, looking at her like she was a silly child.
Didn't she realize who she was?
She was the Queen of singing, the beloved darling of millions.
Even after a year away, her legend still lingered in the entertainment industry.
What she lacked wasn't talent, but opportunity.
All she needed was a push. And Yichen was right here, ready to give her that push.
So what was she being so self-conscious about?
Was her confidence really this fragile?
Maybe it was because of everything she had endured over the past year…
Ah! Women really were troublesome sometimes.
"Listen.
First: I have the Amuse platform. That's a revolutionary piece of software. Once it blows up, I'll have countless ways to attract fans.
Second: I've written over a hundred golden tracks. If I release one every day, by the time I finish, I'll already be popular. And if I'm not? I'll just write more. I refuse to believe I won't get noticed.
Third: I may not be a master of every instrument, but I'm proficient in all the common ones. Even with the rare ones, I know more than a thing or two.
Fourth: I can imitate the voices of many famous singers. If I release songs in their voices, do you think they won't come running to collaborate?
Fifth: You're my safety net. You've got nearly a hundred million fans across all platforms. A single repost from you could launch me into the spotlight.
Sixth: I have absolute pitch.
In short, I will—without a doubt—become famous."
His words flowed like a river, each point delivered with absolute certainty.
Chen Xiaoxi could only stare, stunned.
"You… you even have absolute pitch? I… I underestimated you." Her throat tightened, and her fingers unconsciously gripped the hem of her clothes.
They say caring too much clouds the mind.
She had been treating Zhang Yichen like any ordinary person, forgetting just how capable he truly was.
And absolute pitch—such a rare gift. Those who possessed it could stand at the very peak of the music industry.
And this man… was a monster of talent.
"Stop overthinking. I never fight battles I can't win. And you're not a burden. With you pulling me forward, I'll only rise faster."
Yichen's words were like a calming pill, easing her restless heart.
"Yichen… thank you."
Her voice was as soft as a feather, but in the quiet taxi, every word was clear.
"No need to thank me," he replied lightly.
The taxi once again fell into silence.
But Chen Xiaoxi's thoughts were tangled like a ball of thread—impossible to unravel, impossible to cut.
Her unfocused gaze drifted to the cityscape rushing by the window, until the car finally stopped at the entrance of their neighborhood.
"You go rest for a while. I need to head out."
After sending the mother and daughter upstairs, Yichen left again, making his way to the market.
It was almost noon, and there was nothing prepared for lunch.
If it were just him, he would have grabbed anything to fill his stomach. But not now.
Xiaoxi's body was still weakened from postpartum complications. She needed nourishment, and he was determined to make up for it.
At the market, Yichen bought a black-bone chicken, a pig's trotter, lotus seeds, and several fresh vegetables. A balanced meal of meat and greens was the most nutritious.
Soup, of course, had to be simmered in a clay pot. Only then would the flavors come out rich and wholesome.
There was a ceramics stall at the market, so he picked up a clay medicine pot as well.
Xiaoxi's body had lost too much vital energy. Food alone wouldn't restore it—she needed a combination of acupuncture, herbs, and medicinal meals.
As luck would have it, the city's largest traditional medicine hall was right across the street from the market.
With the herbs purchased, Yichen wasted no time and hurried home.
"You bought so much again?"
Seeing him with both hands full of bags, Xiaoxi rushed to help, guilt washing over her.
She knew—even if he never complained—she really was weighing him down.
If not for her, he could have lived freely, even lazily. But now, he was shouldering so much more.
After all, he was only twenty-two. In other families, he'd still be considered a child.
Yet here he was, already capable of standing tall and taking responsibility.
"Let me cook this time. You should rest." Seeing his tired face, Xiaoxi felt an ache in her chest.
"No need." Yichen refused firmly. "I'll cook. You're not touching cold water for at least seven days."
"You… you don't have to push yourself so hard." Her voice trembled, like a candle flame flickering in the wind—weak, yet still burning.
"Cooking isn't hard. If you want to cook, wait until you're better. Then you can cook for me every day."
He didn't give her a chance to argue.
Her health was his top priority. Besides, he had medicinal meals to prepare as well.
"Alright." Her eyes reddened slightly, her voice as light as falling snow. "Once I'm well… I'll cook for you every day."
Yichen began unpacking the ingredients, laying them out on the kitchen counter with practiced ease.
His movements were smooth, steady, and confident.
For lunch, he decided on Astragalus and Angelica Black-Bone Chicken Soup—a medicinal dish that replenished qi and blood, perfect for Xiaoxi's condition.
The freshly butchered chicken had already been chopped into pieces. No need to blanch it—just rinse, combine with herbs, and simmer.
With the soup on the stove, he sorted the other ingredients, stored the dinner supplies in the fridge, and prepared vegetables for lunch. Finally, he set the rice to cook.
He was from Sichuan, where mantou was the staple. But Xiaoxi, raised and educated in Shanghai, was used to rice.
In less than half an hour, everything was ready. The soup still needed another hour to finish, but the rest was in order.
Not one to waste time, Yichen began tidying up the apartment.
"…With him around, life suddenly feels warm again."
Watching him move about so diligently, Xiaoxi's heart stirred once more.
That warm, comforting feeling rose again, wrapping around her like a gentle embrace.