My Alleged Husband-Chapter 933 - 832: Confession_11
Old Master Zhang grew more and more angry as he thought about it.
Zhang Zhentian was tossing and turning in his bedroom, unable to fall asleep.
"I don’t know what Dad is thinking, or what he’s decided. Ah, it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t tried to cover for Xia Jing, things wouldn’t have turned out like this. Who would have thought that Xia Jing had already gone to Dad and told him everything about Li Jiayuan so clearly, while I was still acting like a fool, lying for her in front of my own dad." Zhang Zhentian felt irritated. Even though he had selfishly hidden things for Xia Jing’s sake, his intentions were good. But he never imagined that his meddling would backfire, not only failing to lessen Old Master Zhang’s misunderstanding of Xia Jing but instead deepening it.
"When will it finally be daylight?" That night felt like an eternity to Zhang Zhentian. He had never experienced such a sleepless night before. He longed for morning to come quickly so he could go find his father and hear what he had decided.
As the sky remained dark, Zhang Zhentian reflected on the moment he first met Xia Jing, and a smile involuntarily crossed his face. But the thought of what he might hear from his father in the morning made his heart anxious.
"If Dad refuses to listen to what I said and still insists that Xia Jing must apologize to Li Jiayuan, what should I do? Xia Jing made her stance very clear; she won’t apologize to Li Haixiao or Li Jiayuan. Does that mean Xia Jing and I are really over?" he wondered. "If Dad listens, that’d be ideal. But if he absolutely refuses, then I’ll have no choice but to personally apologize to Li Haixiao and Li Jiayuan on Xia Jing’s behalf."
As time ticked by, Zhang Zhentian listened to the ticking of the second hand on the clock in his bedroom, watching it circle around again and again. He counted the seconds in his mind, until finally, dawn arrived.
The moment daylight broke, he jumped out of bed and rushed to the living room. When he reached the living room, his father hadn’t come downstairs yet. He waited and waited, and it wasn’t until after ten o’clock that he finally saw Old Master Zhang leisurely walking down the stairs, step by step. The moment Zhang Zhentian saw him, it was like catching sight of a deity; he dashed toward Old Master Zhang so fast he didn’t even bother putting on his shoes.
"Stop right there." His father raised his hand to signal him to halt.
Zhang Zhentian assumed his father was about to announce his decision, so he froze and listened attentively.
"You’re a grown man, running around the house without even wearing shoes. What do you think you’re doing? Rebelling?" Old Master Zhang was furious, apparently because Zhang Zhentian had run barefoot the moment he saw him.
It dawned on Zhang Zhentian why his father’s face had turned so sour at first sight—it was because of that. He hurried back to put his shoes on properly.
"Dad, please, have a seat. What would you like for breakfast? I’ll make it for you," Zhang Zhentian asked eagerly, trying to flatter Old Master Zhang.
Old Master Zhang thought, "Even if I’m going to tell Zhentian the decision is still the same as before, I should at least fill my belly first. Since it’s rare for Zhentian to offer to make breakfast, I might as well let him do it before telling him. Yes, that’s what I’ll do."
It turned out Old Master Zhang planned to have Zhang Zhentian cook something for him before revealing his decision. No wonder people called him a crafty old fox.
"Since you’re being so enthusiastic, I won’t turn you down. Just make me some steamed fish, sweet and sour ribs, and braised pork. Hmm, let’s start with those dishes," Old Master Zhang said to Zhang Zhentian.
Hearing this, Zhang Zhentian stood there dumbfounded. What kind of dishes were those? He didn’t know how to cook any of them.
"Dad, I... I don’t know how to make those dishes. How about I make you some porridge instead?" Zhang Zhentian asked tentatively.
"Hmph, if you don’t know how to cook, then why are you putting on airs? You said you’d make me breakfast, so clearly you must know how, right? Get to it. Once you’ve finished these dishes, then we’ll talk about Xia Jing." Old Master Zhang didn’t care if Zhang Zhentian could cook or not—he only wanted his son to understand that every decision comes with a price.
Since his father had said so, for Xia Jing’s sake, Zhang Zhentian could only muster his courage and get to work.
He pulled out his phone and followed the steps he found online, trying to cook the dishes one step at a time. Watching the instructional videos, everything looked simple, but he quickly realized it was far more difficult when he tried making them himself.
