An Chuyu took a deep breath to shake off those irritating thoughts, rolled up her sleeves, and sat by the dinner table waiting to eat, "Let's not think too much about it since it's New Year's."
Xi Zheng laughed heartily, finally seeing a bit of liveliness in her. He found a pot, washed it, poured in the hotpot base and pure water, and started to cook, ready to dip the ingredients in.
The ingredients they had bought were all semi-finished products in boxes, which could be directly thrown into the pot, a real boon for the lazy. Xi Zheng opened the vacuum-packed cooked food, sliced them, and arranged them on porcelain plates, bringing them to An Chuyu, "Your mother-in-law wanted me to bring a pack of fried yellow croakers too, but I refused. Even sealed in a bag, you can smell them; I didn't want to carry them from north to south. Next time you go back to Beijing, let her make it for you in person."