Lin Bei had promised to make sweet and sour ribs the next day, but the process turned out to be a hundred times more disastrous than she’d imagined.

It all started at four in the afternoon. Lin Bei reluctantly dragged herself off the sofa—not because she was being diligent, but because Su Chen’s words from the night before, “Whatever you want to eat, I’ll buy it for you,” had kept her awake until two o’clock, leaving her with no choice but to cook as a way of repaying his “mercy” of not killing her.

She opened the fridge and found that Su Chen had already bought the ribs. Not only ribs, but also tenderloin, chicken wings, and sea bass, neatly arranged in plastic containers with labels showing the purchase date and weight.

“Did this guy move the supermarket into our home?” Lin Bei muttered to herself as she took out the ribs and began clattering around in the kitchen.

Her cooking skills were truly honed through years of practice. During her four years at university, while others were dating, she was figuring out how to eat the best meals on the cheapest budget. After graduation, when others were working overtime, she was experimenting with using the company microwave to whip up four dishes and a soup.

Sweet and sour ribs were her signature dish.

The whole process went smoothly, almost like water flowing down a stream, and Lin Bei even started humming a tune.

Then the accident happened.

While she was reducing the sauce, her phone rang.

It was Wang Tangtang on a video call. Lin Bei held the spatula in one hand and answered the phone with the other; the pot was bubbling away, and she tilted her head to wedge the phone between her shoulder and ear. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing?” Wang Tangtang’s eyes widened on the screen. “Are you cooking?”

“Yeah, sweet and sour ribs.”

“When did you learn how to make sweet and sour ribs?”

“I’ve always known how—just never bothered to make them.”

“So why are you so eager now?”

Lin Bei hesitated for a moment. “To repay the landlord.”

Wang Tangtang narrowed her eyes. “Repay him? By wiping the floor with an Hermes towel?”

“Could you please stop bringing up the towel—”

Before she could finish, the spatula slipped right out of her hand and landed with a loud “plop” on the floor.

Lin Bei bent down to pick it up, but her shoulder twisted, and the phone slid off her shoulder, flipping over in mid-air—

and landing perfectly in the pot.

Right side up, screen facing up, resting steadily in the bubbling sweet and sour sauce.

Time seemed to stand still.

Lin Bei remained bent over, staring at the phone soaking in the sauce.

Wang Tangtang’s voice came through the phone, crackling with static: “Lin Bei? Lin Bei? What’s wrong? Did you lose connection? Hello? Are you there?”

Then the screen flickered and went black.

Completely black.

Slowly, very slowly, Lin Bei straightened up.

She looked at the phone in the pot, then at the spatula in her hand, then back at the phone in the pot.

And then she made a decision that was so very Lin Bei: she used the spatula to fish the phone out of the pot.

The phone was steaming, emitting a sweet and sour aroma. There was even a single white sesame seed stuck to the screen.

She tried pressing the power button.

No response.

Three seconds.

No response.

Ten seconds.

Still no response.

Lin Bei took a deep breath, set the phone down on the stove, and stared at the sweet and sour sauce in the pot.

There wasn’t much sauce left, but it was infused with the essence of the phone—the shards of glass from the screen, the smell of burnt circuit boards, and even Wang Tangtang’s last words.

This batch of ribs was ruined.

Lin Bei stood in the kitchen, overwhelmed by a sense of failure unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

A 4,800-yuan towel—she’d used an Hermès towel to wipe the floor. A phone worth several thousand yuan—she’d cooked it herself until it tasted like sweet and sour sauce.

She was considering whether to write an article titled “My History of Wasteful Spending in Emerald Bay” and post it online to drum up some traffic, when a voice came from behind her.

“What’s that smell?”

Lin Bei stiffened and turned around.

Su Chen was standing in the doorway, sniffing the air and furrowing his brow. “Sweet and sour ribs? And… burnt circuit boards?”

Lin Bei didn’t know how to explain, “I boiled my phone”: “Why are you home so early today?”

“Nothing special this afternoon.” Su Chen walked into the kitchen, his gaze sweeping over the remains of the phone on the stove, then pausing. “Is this your phone?” he asked.

“…Yes.”

“Why is it on the stove, wrapped in sweet and sour sauce?”

Lin Bei decided to tell the truth: “It fell into the pot.”

“It fell into the pot?”

“Yeah. I was reducing the sauce when I got a video call, and then the spatula slipped. I bent down to pick it up, the phone fell, and it ended up in the pot.”

Su Chen looked at her, then at the phone, then back at her.

“So you cooked your phone until it tasted like sweet and sour sauce.”

“Yep.”

“What about the ribs?”

“They’re ruined. There are phone parts in them.”

Su Chen burst out laughing, leaning heavily on the kitchen counter, his shoulders shaking. “Stop laughing!” Lin Bei snapped. “My phone is gone! My only phone! My lifeline to the outside world! My emotional anchor!”

End of Chapter 7: A Bloody Incident Triggered by Sweet and Sour Ribs