Cannon Fodder in an Era Drama — I Survive with Acting-Chapter 85: Misguided Matchmaking

"That won’t do. Old Luo is one of your best friends, and it’s not often they come to visit. I have to show them my utmost sincerity."

She paused, her eyes shifting slightly as a cunning glint flashed within them.

"Besides, I also want to test his appetite."

Fei Jin was taken aback. He frowned and asked, "Why would you test that? He’s not here for an evaluation. Is there any need to be so serious?"

Song Qingya chuckled and said in a low voice, "Isn’t it because of that old habit of your brother’s? I just want to see if his appetite has really declined, or if it’s related to what I suspect."

As it turned out, her bowl of oil-splashed noodles had a hidden purpose.

Every strand of noodle had been kneaded and rolled by hand.

And the final spoonful of red chili oil was a special concoction she had simmered herself.

The large bowl was piled high with snow-white noodles, with a bright red sauce drizzled on top.

Under the sunlight, it seemed to glow faintly, making one’s mouth water just looking at it.

She then added a layer of fresh, juicy bok choy and slices of meat slow-stewed in a secret sauce. Every single component was freshly made and served.

Seeing the neatly arranged dishes on the table, everyone suddenly felt hungry.

With all the food ready, Song Qingya rubbed her sore back. "Fei Jin, help me take these out."

As soon as a steaming plate of oil-splashed noodles was placed on the table, the old man immediately sat up straight.

"Isn’t this the taste of our hometown! Qingya, how do you know how to make this?"

"When I lived in Qi City, my family made it often. I learned just by watching."

Yang Yingzi couldn’t help but chime in, "Not only are you beautiful, but you’re also a fantastic cook. Just look at the presentation—it looks even better than what you’d get at a restaurant in the county seat."

Luo Weiwei stared at the table for a long time, practically drooling.

"Mom, can I have just a little taste? It smells so good."

"Go on, eat up. Don’t be shy."

Song Qingya smiled as she handed out chopsticks and spoons, also giving everyone a bowl of rich, savory broth.

It was authentic to pair the food with its original broth.

But this meal was far more than just noodles.

Stuffed tofu, scrambled eggs, and stir-fried greens with pork lard residue soon followed.

Even the salted fish from town was pan-fried until fragrant and crispy, served with a few slices of homemade cured sausage on the side.

With all the food on the table, no one was in the mood to chat.

Before long, the dishes on the table had been swept clean.

Luo Weiwei even used a steamed bun to mop up the last of the leftover sauce.

While eating, Yang Yingzi couldn’t help but say, "Qingya, your cooking is simply amazing. It’s a waste of talent that you’re not a head chef in a restaurant. Your family is living so comfortably, and you don’t have to worry about the chaos of children."

Fei Jin gently wrapped an arm around Song Qingya, his fingers slowly stroking her back.

Hearing this, he smiled and said, "Maybe soon we’ll be busy trying to soothe a baby ourselves."

As he spoke, the corners of his mouth turned up in an involuntary smile.

"It’s fine, raising a baby," Song Qingya leaned into his embrace and replied softly. "They’re just a bit of trouble when they’re little. It gets better when they grow up. We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl yet."

She paused, rubbing her slightly protruding belly, her face beaming with a happy smile.

Sitting to the side, Yang Yingzi couldn’t help but laugh as she listened to their conversation.

She sized up Song Qingya’s prominent, round belly and clicked her tongue in surprise. "You’re showing quite a bit. Your belly is bigger than many of the pregnant women in town. Could it be twins?"

"Huh?"

Song Qingya was stunned, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Her mind immediately conjured an image.

’I thought one would be hard enough—all the daily feedings, diaper changes, and lulling them to sleep...’

’If there are two, wouldn’t that be double the suffering?’

The more she thought about it, the more nervous she became. Even her fingertips, holding her bowl, subconsciously tightened their grip.

Seeing that Song Qingya’s expression seemed a bit off, Luo Fuman, who was sitting nearby, quickly chimed in with a smile, trying to change the subject.

"You’re just making wild guesses!"

He chuckled and shook his head as he spoke, then added, "Maybe it’s just a sturdy little boy. Look at Uncle Li’s little grandson from town—he was so chubby and lovable when he was born."

His words did manage to soothe Song Qingya’s nerves a little.

Just then, Song Qingya inadvertently noticed something—

When her gaze swept across the table, her brow furrowed slightly.

That entire large bowl of oil-splashed noodles was still sitting at his spot on the table.

Roughly half of the noodles and broth were left untouched.

In contrast, everyone else’s bowl was scraped clean, without even a single leaf of vegetable left.

His appetite was clearly much smaller than the last time they met. It was truly abnormal.

Song Qingya looked at the sturdy man before her, a seed of doubt sprouting in her heart.

"Brother Luo, were the noodles not to your liking?"

Song Qingya hesitated for a moment before asking in a low voice.

"No, no."

Luo Fuman waved his hands repeatedly to explain, his smile gradually fading as he grew a bit fidgety.

"How could that be? I haven’t had oil-splashed noodles from back home since I came to Qi City."

His tone became earnest, and a hint of nostalgia even flashed in his eyes.

"This bowl you made, Qingya, is so authentic. It’s even more delicious than what I used to eat back home."

As soon as he finished speaking, he lowered his head to take a sip of broth, but the heavy look in his eyes didn’t lessen one bit.

"It’s just... my appetite hasn’t been good recently. I get full after just a little, and it feels like something is stuck in my throat, making it hard to swallow. Even with this bowl of noodles you made especially for me, I could only eat half before I had to stop. What a waste."

As he spoke, Song Qingya looked down at the half-eaten bowl on the table.

"It’s okay," she said, comforting him gently. "I also made some plum juice. It’s sweet and refreshing, perfect for helping with digestion."

She gave a slight nod in response, her gaze unintentionally sweeping over the whites of his eyes.

She could see a faint yellow tinge to them.

In that moment, she already had a good idea of what was going on.

After lunch, everyone sat around the table sipping plum juice and making small talk.

The atmosphere was relaxed and pleasant, a perfect time for a heart-to-heart.

Just then, Song Qingya smiled and spoke softly, "Brother Luo, Sister-in-law, well... I’ve been learning some basics of traditional Chinese medicine these past few days and I want to get some practice. I was wondering if I could try on you? I’d like to take your pulses and see how things are."

Hearing this, Fei Jin immediately chimed in with a laugh, "Oh, her? She’s been pestering me to let her practice these last few days. She takes my pulse every chance she gets."

Yang Yingzi’s interest was piqued.

"Really? Qingya, you’re so talented! You know how to take a pulse at such a young age?"

"Oh, I’m not that skilled. I’m just messing around."

Song Qingya waved her hand in feigned modesty.

"I doubt I can even tell anything."

Luo Fuman and Yang Yingzi just saw it as a young person’s fleeting hobby and didn’t give it much thought.

The two of them exchanged a smile.