When the first rays of sunlight in Manhattan pierced through the glass window into the bedroom, Song Heping instinctively opened his eyes.
Even though he had arrived here just two days ago, he was fortunate that he came from Venezuela, where the time difference wasn't severe, so he still woke up promptly at six in the morning.
Ordinarily, Song Heping would spring up as if released from a tightly coiled spring, but today he did not.
Because there was a charming person beside him.
So, he carefully lifted the blanket, carefully moved his feet from the bed to the floor, and carefully sat up. Then, like a thief, he tiptoed across the wooden floor to the foot of the bed, picked up the clothes on the floor, and then tiptoed out of the bedroom.
Before leaving, he turned his head to look back at the bed.
Angel was sleeping soundly.
After a lengthy battle last night that drained quite a bit of energy, it was understandable that they slept in.
Stepping out into the living room, Song Heping looked around at the house he hadn't thoroughly inspected last night.
It had a typical minimalist European-American style.
It seemed that this was Angel's preferred style, whether in her office or her personal apartment.
Though it was an apartment, and a high-rise one at that, it was quite spacious.
This was Song Heping's first visit to New York and he was not familiar with the roads, so he had no idea where this was.
He drew the curtains in the living room, revealing a large glass door, with a balcony outside.
What surprised Song Heping was that he saw an extremely elongated park, embedded like an emerald in this urban concrete forest of towering buildings.
Song Heping slid open the glass door and stepped out onto the balcony.
The wind was a bit strong, but very cool. Coupled with the crisp morning air, it was invigorating.
Walking over to the edge of the balcony, he looked down and estimated that he was about twenty or thirty floors above the ground.
"Manhattan…"
Surveying the surroundings, he figured out roughly where he was.
He never ate pork, but he had seen pigs run.
Song Heping had never been to Manhattan but he knew this famous park. Moreover, he knew one thing—houses here were very expensive!
"The environment is nice... If I ever get rich, I'll get a place here too!"
He stretched lazily towards the nearby park, against the cool breeze.
After stretching, Song Heping felt completely awake. He turned around, went back inside, and began to look for the kitchen.
Because he was quite hungry now.
At last night's reception, the food was all buffet-style and quite exquisite, which wasn't enough for someone who had been a soldier.
The situation didn't allow him to keep grabbing more food, as it would make him look like a starving ghost reincarnated. He didn't understand how those Westerners filled their stomachs, wandering around all evening with champagne glasses and seemingly very resistant to hunger.
Speaking of food, Song Heping felt that nothing nourished the body like the traditional food from his hometown.
The more he thought about it, the hungrier he got. After searching in the kitchen fridge for a while, he finally found some ingredients to make breakfast.
Angel was awakened by the aroma.
She opened her eyes and vaguely smelled something appetizing.
It wasn't perfume, it was the smell of food.
The door was not closed properly, leaving a small gap, through which Angel got up, draped on her robe, and followed the scent to the kitchen.
Since the kitchen was open-plan, she immediately saw Song Heping, who was busy by the stove.
She intended to greet him, but ended up just leaning against the doorway, silently watching the man skillfully busy himself.
Finally, when Song Heping turned around again, he saw Angel.
"You're awake?"
"What are you making?"
Only then did Angel walk over, joining Song Heping by his side.
There were two large bowls by the stove, each filled with noodles.
"Where did you find noodles?"
"I made them from the flour I found in your cupboard, but it's not as good as the flour from my hometown."
"Where did you get the beef?"
"The beef was in the fridge. I chopped it up."
Soon, two steaming bowls of noodles were served at the dining table.
Angel leaned over the bowl and took a sniff, praising, "It smells delicious, not any worse than what the Chinese restaurants outside serve."
Afterward, with her large eyes looking tenderly at Song Heping across the table, she said, "It's the first time a man has made me breakfast."
"There are no chopsticks, you'll have to use a fork," Song Heping handed her a fork. "Didn't your father ever make you breakfast?"
"No." Angel twirled a forkful of noodles like spaghetti, blowing on it as she spoke, "He's always been busy, as long as I can remember, our family…"