Chapter 1278

Joyce took a nap after the spa.

When I woke up, it was noon.

Luther was not around, she sat up from the bed and suddenly felt a

little lost, and then she shook her head off.

How can you expect him to be by her side all the time? The brain is

really burnt out.

A thermos was thoughtfully placed by the bed, and she took a few sips

to moisten her throat.

Putting on a coat, she went out of the room and went to the first floor.

I didn't eat much for breakfast and felt a little hungry. It was almost

noon, and Ivy was nowhere to be seen, and no lunch was prepared?

A little confused, she walked into the kitchen only to find Luther

standing at the guide table, his back turned to the sink, and wondering

what he was doing.

"What are you doing in the kitchen?"

She made a sudden sound behind her back, and Luther, who had been

concentrating, was startled when the sharp blade cut across his index

finger, cutting through a gash.

He frowned and hurriedly dropped the knife in his hand.

Joyce walked over to him and found that he had cut his finger and

blood was coming out.

She exclaimed, " my God, you cut your finger! What are you doing in

the kitchen and where's vy?"

With a low curse, she hurriedly retrieved the medical kit from the living

room.

Step forward, grab his hand and rinse it off first against the faucet.

“Ivy, I sent her to buy sturgeon, the market is a bit far, so she's not back

yet." He drew back his hand, "It's okay, just a little scratch. It's not a

deep cut."

Joyce gave him a slight glare and yanked his hand over, "Even a small

injury needs to be taken care of."

After that, she took out antiseptic water, dipped a cotton swab into it

and wiped his wound, then applied iodine, and finally bandaged a

band-aid for him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She grumbled and complained,

"Nothing to do."

"Making you lunch.” He pointed to a corner of the kitchen where

something seemed to be cooking in a pot, "Don't you smell it?"

Joyce sniffed, there was a whiff of vegetable fragrance, she was sick,

so her sense of smell was not too sharp, when she walked in before,

she did not notice.

“It's already stewed, you just woke up, you should be hungry, I'll serve

you a bowl." He was just about to walk over.

Joyce pushed him away.

She walked to the pot, open, a pot of color and flavor of porridge. Just

looking at it is appetizing.

The most critical thing is that absolutely down hard work.

Her favorite swordfish meat, in fact, this kind of fish has a lot of thorns,

surprisingly able to remove all the thorns, as well as wild duck meat,

ham, afraid of the taste is too old, almost cut into fine julienne, bird's

nest hair picked cleanly, without a single defect. The diced vegetables

are neatly and carefully cut. Don't underestimate how much thought

goes into a simple pot of porridge.

It doesn't look like Ivy's handwriting, because Ivy is not usually this

meticulous.

She craned her head suspiciously to look at Luther.

"You did this?"

"Hmm. You are sick, I see you barely eat anything in the morning, I

thought you must have no appetite, so made a simple porridge. I was

going to make a few more dishes, but the missing ingredients Ivy

ingredients haven't been bought back yet." He pointed to the stove top,

just now when he prepared the ingredients, cut to the hand.

Simple? There's nothing simple about it, Joyce thought.

"That's enough. No need to cook, there's enough to eat.”

She took a bowl, a white porcelain spoon and scratched through the

thick porridge, and scooped a bowl for herself, and a bow! for him at the

same time.

The aroma was tantalizing, and sitting at the table, she took a bite.

The delicate and lubricious taste, even if there is no appetite, you can

still taste the fresh taste. Suddenly, her heart was clogged with

unspoken feelings gradually diffused.