Ann Vaughn secretly lifted her eyelids to glance at Cyrus Hawthorne sitting adjacent to her. To her surprise, he was staring intently at... the noodles in front of her?
"I just made some noodles, and there’s a bit too much. Would you like to have some?" ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ Novᴇ(l)Fɪre .ɴᴇt
Cyrus Hawthorne was pulled back from his thoughts by Ann Vaughn’s sudden question. His narrow eyes skimmed over her bowl of noodles, and the refusal on the tip of his tongue inexplicably became: "Sure."
He then pulled out a chair and sat down.
Ann Vaughn got up, went to the kitchen, dished out the remaining noodles from the pot, and placed them in front of Cyrus Hawthorne. "Try some."
Ann Vaughn was quite confident in her cooking skills. When her grandfather was still around, he often joked that if she ever stopped being a doctor and opened a restaurant, it would ensure she would never want for anything.
Of course, that was just a joke. Her grandfather’s greatest wish was for her to carry on his legacy and breathe new life into traditional medicine.
Cyrus Hawthorne accepted the chopsticks she handed over, picked up a few strands of noodles under Ann Vaughn’s bright gaze, and took a bite.
This bowl of noodles was made particularly simply, with only two eggs as the garnish, extremely light.
Any chef from the Hawthorne Family could whip up a far more exquisite bowl of noodles than this.
Yet, the taste was unexpectedly good, very savory, as if it was steeped with an indescribable warm flavor.
A peculiar look flashed in Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes, and his brows furrowed ever so slightly.
This taste... seemed familiar.
"How’s the taste?" Ann Vaughn asked directly, unable to discern anything from his indifferent expression, her voice tinged with a hint of anticipation.
"It’s decent," Cyrus Hawthorne replied coolly with two words, causing Ann Vaughn’s lips to curl up slightly, her eyes brimming with a smile.
She knew how picky Cyrus Hawthorne was with food, receiving even these two words was the highest praise.
The bowl of noodles was quickly finished. Cyrus Hawthorne put down the chopsticks, his deep-set eyes staring straight at Ann Vaughn. "From now on, I will have Mark Joyce take you to school. You should know what to say to your grandfather."
"I understand." Ann Vaughn pressed her lips, revealing a faint smile, forcefully ignoring the trace of disappointment in her heart. Seeing him get up, seemingly about to leave, she remembered something she had forgotten to give him. "Wait for me!"
She threw out that sentence and hurriedly ran into the room.
When she reentered, she was holding a few pieces of paper and approached Cyrus Hawthorne. "These are prescriptions for treating your old ailments. I’ve written the precautions on them. It’s quite complex, so you need to be careful when you prepare them..."
Before she finished speaking, Cyrus Hawthorne interrupted her, speaking leisurely, "Is this how you leave your patients to their own devices?"
"Huh? Of course not..."
"If that’s the case, wouldn’t it be more foolproof for you to handle it personally? Or is it that, to Doctor Vaughn, I’m not an important enough patient to warrant your attention?" As he said this, Cyrus Hawthorne’s lips slightly curled, his expression a mix of humor and intimidation.
Ann Vaughn was completely stunned, her eyes wide and a bit dazed.
For a moment, she didn’t know how to argue against him.
Listening to him, it seemed he had a point.
Having developed the treatment method herself, of course, she knew it best. If someone misinterpreted any step of the prescription, it would only harm Cyrus Hawthorne’s body.
Thinking this, Ann Vaughn’s little mind suddenly got tied in knots.
"Then... then why don’t you come over here once a week? I’ll personally give you acupuncture. The herbal baths and medicine preparation are fairly simple, you can handle that yourself..." she pondered for a while, feeling this was the best solution for everyone.