55: Unease; a case of mis-hearing

“Actually—” Yan Hansheng interrupted himself. “—Nevermind.“

And now, all of a sudden Lin FenXiang felt a distinct itch at the back of his mind, a persistent tickle of curiosity for the lack of better words to describe the feeling.

“No, wait,” he sighed, “you can't do that. Don't just leave a sentence incomplete like that. It's making me disconcertingly curious.“

Yan Hansheng broke into a smile at the artist's words and shook his head. “No, it's.. it's really nothing. I just want, wanted to say, say that I, I ac, actually miss my mom's cooking. Esp, esecially the pickles sh, she makes. You know.. here in, in England the, the food is, is a little bla, bland...“

“Ah, of course,” Lin FenXiang agreed, having grown up in a Japanese household in his last life, he, too, was accustomed to spicy food so when he had moved back to England later, he was somewhat thrown off by the bland food as well.