I don't know how long I stayed in the room.

I didn't regain my senses until the dog broke free from its cage and pulled on my leg, wanting to leave the room.

It walked in front of me and stopped in front of the refrigerator.

Then, it bit out a small notebook from the side of the refrigerator.

I crouched down and took it.

Inside were recipes that looked like books.

There were twenty kinds of breakfast, over thirty kinds of lunch, and some nourishing soups.

At the end of the contents, there were some desserts and drinks.

A thick book, all handwritten.

They were all dishes Gu Yi had made for me, or ones that I wanted to eat but hadn't made yet.

But I only wanted to eat what he made.

After flipping through a few pages, I took out my phone and ordered takeout.

When the takeout arrived, the dog seemed angry. It wouldn't let me open the door and kept pulling me towards the kitchen.

It even barked loudly at the delivery person at the door, so I had no choice but to let the delivery person leave the food at the door.

But as soon as I brought it in, the dog threw it into the trash can.

It was then that I remembered when Gu Yi was around.

I don't think I've ever eaten takeout before.

The only time I did, I ended up in the hospital.

Since then, every meal was either made by Gu Yi and brought to the set, or he would wait for me to come back.

I can only say that he took good care of me.

I had a healthy complexion and didn't look like a woman in her thirties at all.

Now, looking at the dog squatting in the kitchen waiting for me to go in.

So I decided to find a recipe for barley red bean porridge.

But I've hardly been in the kitchen, always feeling restless.

Either I'm washing red beans in front while the dog picks up the ones that fell on the floor and throws them in the trash can.

Or I can't find the right pot, and the dog opens a certain cabinet, scraping the bottom of the pot with its paws to show me.

After wasting an hour and a half, I finally made a pot of porridge.

I noticed that no matter what I did, the dog's gaze was always on me.

Especially when I stood by the balcony window or when I was cutting fruit in the kitchen.

It would always tug on my pants, urging me to stay away from that place.

When I moved to a different spot, it would crawl into my arms, as if hugging me, trapping me.

The tighter it held me, the more my heart ached.

I looked at the still hard red beans in front of me and stuffed a spoonful into my mouth.

Then I shouted at the dog.

"From now on, shall I call you Hong Dou (Red Bean)?"

The dog perked up and barked.

"Hong Dou!"

"Woof!"