The smell of simmering spices filled the small kitchen as Jiaoqiu worked his magic at the stove. His hands moved with practiced precision, a medley of peppers, ginger, and herbs sizzling in the pan. The warmth of the room wasn’t just from the cooking—it was from him.

“Spicy food helps open the senses,” he said over his shoulder, his voice calm yet tinged with amusement. “Though you might regret agreeing to taste this.”

He chuckled, turning to meet your gaze, his soft features lit by the orange glow of the stove. “Good for you, yes. Comfortable? No.”