While covering the quilt, Horace accidentally touched Clara’s hand, the coldness of which made Horace shiver.
How could her hand be so cold? Horace dared not imagine.
Was she cold on the outside or on the inside?
Horace didn’t ask this question. He went forward and grabbed Clara tightly.
Clara wanted to pull out, but Horace’s menacing look made her give up.
Horace was more stubborn than her.
After about fifteen minutes, Clara’s hand finally warmed up. Horace withdrew his hand and put Clara’s hand in the quilt.
“I saw a kitchen here, and there is some food. Let me cook something for you.” Horace spoke to Clara.
They hadn’t eaten in a day. And the exhaustion made them hungrier now.
Clara was stunned when she heard this.
Him cooking? Could they still stay in this place after that?
Clara wasn’t in the mood to joke. She nodded without saying anything.
Horace walked to the stove. The setup was simple. There was no use of electricity.
So now making fire was a big difficulty for Horace. He didn’t know what to do without even a lighter.
But in order not to starve Clara, Horace can only drill wood for a fire like the ancient people did. He picked up a wood block, yet did not know where to start.
Horace rubbed two pieces of wood against each other for a long time. But there wasn’t any spark.
He looked helplessly at Clara on the side, feeling that he should work hard.
He had said that he would cook for her, if he can’t even make a fire, he would be useless.
Horace persevered, rubbing the wood.
Finally, he made it.
The fire was burning, but Horace felt that something was wrong with his head. He reached out to his hair…
He was too focused on the wood. His hair was burned at the moment the fire rose.
Horace looked helplessly at the fire in front of him, which had been hard to generate. He hoped it won’t be extinguished.
He could only forget about his hair and devote himself to cooking.
He filled the pot with water and cut some ingredients.
There were only tomatoes, eggs, and lettuce.
He planned to make an egg soup and cook some tomatoes and lettuce. Once the plan was in place, Horace started to cook.
Horace, a rich man who had grown up with people at his service, knew nothing about cooking. Even cutting the vegetable was something new for him.
Luckily, it wasn’t hard to cut vegetables. He finished it in a moment, waited for the water to heat up, and then make the egg soup.
But the water remained cold. Horace looked down and found the fire had gone.
Horace had no choice but to make fire again. This time it wasn’t as easy as before. A long time had passed, yet nothing happened.
In the end, the room was filled with smoke. Clara, who was sitting next to him, couldn’t help but walk over.
Horace’s face was smeared with dust, only the white parts of his eyes were visible. There seemed to be something stuck to his hair. He was a mess.
Clara frowned, then reached for the wood in Horace’s hand.
“I’ll do it,” Clara said lightly. She was somewhat speechless, not knowing how to speak to Horace.
Horace looked into Clara’s eyes and handed the wood to Clara, then stood up and watched how Clara was going to make the fire.
Not knowing what method Clara used, she made the fire quickly.
Horace felt a little inferior. He, as a man, was not as good as a woman.
But the truth was in front of him, he was indeed inferior to Clara. Yet thinking about it, Horace thought it was not a shame to be worse than his wife.
Watching Clara being busy in the kitchen, Horace couldn’t help but think of their lives five years ago.
He could see Clara busy in the kitchen every day after work.
Looking at this scene now, he couldn’t help thinking about the past.
Clara finished cooking soon. Horace didn’t cook, so he helped serve the food.
Horace picked up the dishes, walked over to the chair, and placed them on the table.
Horace put lettuce in the Clara bowl. Clara ate it without saying anything.
“Clara,” Horace called out tentatively to Clara, but Clara didn’t make a response.
“Clara, isn’t this scene familiar to five years ago when you cooked for me?” Hearing this, Clara paused.
Then she looked up and said, “No matter how familiar it is. We can’t go back to the past. ”
Clara said this without emotion.
“Don’t. Come back. “Horace knew it was inappropriate to say so right now under such a situation.
But he couldn’t restrain his feelings.
“Don’t? Why would I go back? Continue to be hurt by you? Continue to watch you flirt with other women?”
Clara couldn’t understand why Horace was so shameless.
If he wanted her back, why would he do such things to her back then?
“Clara, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Let’s talk. Let’s make everything clear.” Horace looked at Clara’s agitated look and began to persuade.
“No need. The important thing now is to save the person.” Clara wasn’t in the mood to talk about the past with Horace.
Now saving Neo was the most important thing. Without Neo, all the talks were useless.
“I’m in too much of a hurry.” Horace also knew he was pressing too hard. He should do it step by step.
Horace smiled and went on eating with his head down. Clara was also quiet. It was a quiet dinner.
No one mentioned things that the other didn’t want to hear.
The dinner was the only pleasant moment of this tiring day. It filled the loss of energy in their bodies, also the loss of their minds.
The night was silent. All that could be heard was the sound of the wind outside and the breathing between the two of them.
A figure outside the window has been paying attention to every move of the two people in the room.
The moon was high in the sky without many stars around it. Horace and Clara sat in the room, looking at each other, while a shadow was looking at them from the outside.