The next day.
Yao Qing woke up early in the morning.
With a heart full of worries, she could hardly sleep comfortably and woke up very early.
However, her sense of 'early' was a bit different from Yu Yanshen's definition. It was now seven-thirty. He probably got up before seven, prepared breakfast, and had everything in order before heading to the company.
He was indeed very busy. Even dating had to be squeezed into his schedule, let alone anything else. Even when hospitalized, he had to attend various meetings.
Yao Qing opened the refrigerator to find the sealed breakfast arranged on a plate, with a Post-it note attached.
His handwriting wasn't particularly impressive—his wild cursive could be hard to understand without a closer look, but she made it out—"Sandwich and eggs, a cup of warm milk, made by your husband, heat it before eating."
Before the word "husband," there was a black mark, as if another word had been written and then crossed out.
