Wooing my Bodyguard Wife

What most people don’t realise is that Sun Jingwei is not, contrary to expectations, a fucking terrible cook. He had survived abroad for a period of time, and there was only so much takeout he could stomach before he finally caved and explored his kitchen.

(He didn’t want to eat in restaurants, because eating alone in a foreign land was a new level of misery for him.)

And he was dreadfully homesick and couldn’t stand what passed for ‘authentic’ Chinese food in America. Panda Express had nearly made him cry, and not from joy.

So he bought a cookbook, watched a few culinary videos, and hunkered down to cook something edible. After weeks of burnt dishes, triggered fire alarms, and a very pissed off fire department with equally pissed off neighbours, he upgraded his dishes from ‘dumpster fire’ to ‘barely passable’.

With more time and effort, the quality of his dishes improved steadily. They were no longer overly salty or overly sweet, there was no undercooked fish or raw chicken meat. His favourite dish to cook was still fishball noodle soup, because it was easy, delicious, and one could fit a variety of ingredients inside it.

It was also his mom’s favourite dish. He tried his best to recreate the taste, but it always fell short somehow, as though he was missing a key ingredient. He continued cooking even after he returned to China, but only in the comfort of his apartment. There was no point in cooking in the mansion, where there was an entire army of staff to cater to his every whim.

Until now.

Jingwei puts on an apron, handed to him by the dumbstruck maid on duty. She had taken one look at him and rubbed her eyes, as though he was a hallucination brought about by the late hour. He almost wanted to tell her to pinch herself if she thought she was dreaming.

He hopes Xue Ning would like the noodles he cooked. He wasn’t that insane to create the noodles from scratch so late at night, but the noodles in the mansion were good enough. His hands moved quickly, chopping up spring onions, fishcake, slices of wagyu beef.

“Young Master! Let me do this for you!” Si Qing insists, thinking that her Young Master was going to slice off a finger in the midst of his enthusiastic quick chopping.

“No need, I got this,” he says, flashing her a smile that makes her heart skip a beat. But she knew deep down she had no chance, because he was in the kitchen cooking a meal for another woman.

“Okay… do let me know if there’s anything I can help you with,” she says, hovering awkwardly in the kitchen, not willing to leave. She didn’t want to miss the sight of him cooking.

“Sure,” he says, but his eyes are focused on the rapidly boiling soup.

After a mere half an hour, Sun Jingwei had two perfect bowls of steaming noodle soup, ready to be eaten. He waved off Si Qing’s helpful offer of carrying the bowls to his room, wanting to do it himself. He already made the meal, so he might as well carry it to her.

Meanwhile Si Qing followed behind him, disbelieving. Not only did the Young Master cook for the woman, he even brought the food up for her! Now she was even more curious about the woman in question. To her knowledge, the Young Master never lifted a hand to do house chores in his life – let alone cook.

They soon arrived at the room, but the door was closed. Si Qing knocked on his behalf and opened the door, happy that she could at least do something for him.

The grateful smile he gave her made her blush.

“Xue Ning!” Jingwei calls out, “supper is here!”

Silence greeted his statement. Jingwei puts the tray on the table and pulls apart the canopy curtains, only to be greeted with Xue Ning’s sleeping face.

“Young Master, should we save the noodle soup for tomorrow?” Si Qing asks hesitantly.

“Nah, I’ll wake her, you can go now. Thanks for the help.” Sun Jingwei replies, an easy dismissal. Si Qing makes her way outside the room, making sure to close the door behind her. She doesn’t want to think about what kind of tactics his Young Master might use to wake his lover. It just makes her feel terribly single and jealous!

Meanwhile in the room, Jingwei takes a moment to admire Xue Ning’s face, mouth slack with sleep. Was that a hint of drool on the pillow? He stifled a laugh and hurriedly took a picture – not for blackmail, but just as a souvenir. He couldn’t help but smile at how she slept, arms and legs wrapped around a pillow, blankets bunching around her like a dumpling.

Her face looked younger, without that customary frown between her brows and the stress of the evening.

He leans in closer, planning to wake her up by blowing into her ear.

He takes a deep breath. Just as he was about to do so, Xue Ning turned her head.

He freezes. Their faces are now barely an inch apart.

Xue Ning must have sensed someone staring at her, because she opens one baleful eye to check on her surroundings, only for them to find Sun Jingwei’s guilty face so close to her.

Should he move away? Move closer? Before he can make a decision, Xue Ning yells and springs awake, accidentally headbutting him in the face. Jingwei lets out a muffled groan of pain.

Why does this keep happening to him?

This time, he really didn’t have any perverted thoughts in mind!

“Yah, Sun Jingwei, what are you trying to pull!” Xue Ning doesn’t shriek, but she comes close to it. She holds the pillow in front of her like it’s a battering ram, and Sun Jingwei’s body was the gate to the fortress that she wanted to destroy.

Jingwei gulps and sheepishly moves further away, his hands instinctively covering his crotch.