Elisa picked up the crumpled list she had thrown on the ground. She smoothed it out and found a spot on the wall to stick it.
On the first day, she cooked for Hamish. Hamish said he would eat whatever she made. So she made something he disliked the most, something she had made before to displease him, but he never took a bite. Elisa made stir-fried pig kidneys, with a generous amount of millet spicy sauce, green onions, ginger, garlic, and cilantro, making one side of the kidneys red. Elisa wore a gas mask, unknowingly giving the impression that she was cooking something sinister. Although it was a bit spicy, the taste was really good, just not the taste Hamish liked. Should she do whatever he liked? Should she indulge him?
Elisa also made pig trotter and tail soup. The soup was milky white, light and full of collagen. But Hamish didn’t like to eat those parts, probably because he felt it would undermine his identity as a CEO. One soup, one dish, and a pot of steamed white rice, and Elisa quickly finished cooking.
When Shen cooked for Hamish, she always had random thoughts, thinking about adding a bottle of pesticide to the soup to kill him. When a person is pushed to a certain limit, they always think about putting someone to death, even if that person is already plagued by a terminal illness. Hamish looked at the soup and dish on the table without any extra emotions. Even the curve of his lips remained as usual, clearly having anticipated Elisa’s actions.
Of course, Elisa herself was a tough person. If he wanted to make her surrender, he would have to go through some hardships first. The fact that Elisa was honestly cooking for him without poisoning the food was already good enough. He didn’t expect anything else, at the very least, it was something he could eat.
The doctor had instructed them to eat light food, with no spices, as it can cause choking in the airway and involve the lungs. Even a little bit of spice could be dangerous, not to mention a plate of spicy peppers. Just the smell made his chest uncomfortable. Hamish served himself a bowl of cold pig trotter and tail soup, then started eating the plate of spicy peppers. It was fine at first, but the spiciness hit him after the fourth bite. He started coughing and, unable to bear it any longer, he drank the soup, but it only worsened the choking sensation.
Hamish could have chosen not to eat. His list only mentioned that he hoped Elisa could cook another meal for him. Whether he ate or not was up to him, or he could have just drunk the soup and spared himself the suffering, but he chose to go for it.
Elisa saw him covering his chest and coughing, and she said, “You don’t have to eat it.”
The taste of this dish and soup she made suited her own taste better. When Elisa used to try to please Hamish, she only remembered his preferences. After cooking for him for 1364 days, she had forgotten her own likes and dislikes. By the time she remembered, she had already been diagnosed with gastric cancer and couldn’t eat these things anymore.
Hamish coughed violently, and Elisa, who intended to sit down and have a few bites, lost her appetite when she saw him leaning over the table coughing and trembling all over. She turned and left, leaving Hamish alone in the empty restaurant, still coughing intensively.
Once Elisa left, Hamish couldn’t control himself and coughed up blood. He knew that Elisa was afraid of blood, so even though his throat was uncomfortable, and the metallic taste in his mouth became stronger, he managed to hold back from spitting it out.
After Elisa left, he opened his mouth and the blood couldn’t be controlled anymore. It flowed along the white table, forming a winding and mottled line, unable to stop. Hamish had coughed up blood before, but this time it felt especially alarming to him. His lungs were throbbing in pain. He stared at the dish and soup in front of him for a while, then rinsed his mouth with clean water to wash away the blood, and started eating the peppers again with his fork. The coughing continued, and he had already wiped away the blood on the table and floor with tissues. Only the blood on his hands remained, dried into scabs. It felt uncomfortable, and when he rubbed his hands, a layer of grayish blood scabs fell off his palms like ashes floating away. He used to rub off the blood clots left by Elisa on his hands, but now it was his turn.
It’s fine… Hamish comforted himself. It was just tit for tat, just retribution.
Three days remain until Christmas Eve, and Hamish secretly hired several workers to renovate the outside, working for two nights to create a wedding-like atmosphere. The wedding dress has also been customized and will be delivered on Christmas Eve for Elisa to wear. This time, he personally designed the wedding dress, tailored according to Elisa’s figure.
There’s also the ring… He made it himself, a simple ring that may not be as impressive as those million-dollar diamond rings, but it’s unique in the world and the most suitable size among all the rings he has ever given to Elisa.
And so, Christmas Eve arrived.