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“Get me the Vegetable Porridge.” Enna hasn’t made a decision, but Baron Lawrence has already issued an order.

“Yes.”

Scott Harris brings the porridge to him and goes out with a dozen chefs, also closing the ward door for them.

Baron Lawrence sits on the edge of the bed, stirring the porridge in the bowl with a spoon. He scoops a spoonful and feeds it to her mouth.

“Open up.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

Enna reaches for it.

His hand dodges back, frowning unhappily, “Just open up when I tell you to open up.”

Is there such a domineering way of caring for others? Enna thinks he is playing the fool and reluctantly opens her mouth as he wishes.

As soon as the porridge enters her mouth.

Her face immediately wrinkles from the scalding.

She can’t swallow or spit it out!

“Not good?” Baron Lawrence thought the porridge by the chef was unpalatable, his face darkens, ready to be angry, “I’ll have Scott Harris find someone else to cook it!”

Enna quickly grabs his hand, swallows the scalding porridge in her mouth, and says hurriedly, “It’s not bad. It’s really good.”

“Good, but your face is all wrinkled up?” What a pretentious woman, even her lies are so fake!

“What’s not good is not good. Does the woman I like still need to force herself to eat something unpalatable?” Domineering, arrogant and unspeakably indulgent!

Enna’s heart beats, fearing that if she doesn’t tell the truth, Baron Lawrence would really go find someone to cook it again. She grits her teeth and says, “It’s too hot.”

“What?”

Phew, she takes a deep breath and raises her voice, “The porridge isn’t unpalatable, my frown is because it’s too hot.”

Too hot…

Baron Lawrence never thought it would be his fault, his cold, handsome face turning black, then green. Green mixed with purple. Just when Enna thought he was going to lose his temper, he tightens his thin lips, sits back on the edge of the bed, picks up the bowl of porridge, and starts to stir it with a spoon. Although he’s still frowning, he would sometimes lower his head and blow awkwardly at the porridge in the bowl…

Enna watches him stir the porridge in the bowl into a mess. The various ingredients and vegetables turn into a mushy mixture under his excessive stirring, mixed with glutinous rice, colorful but unidentifiable as a high-quality health porridge made by a seven-star chef. She holds back for a while but can’t help asking, “Baron Lawrence, should I do it myself?”

Baron Lawrence suddenly pulls his hand back, sounding annoyed, “Sit still and don’t move. ”

His words are tough, but his movements are surprisingly gentle. He scoops up a spoonful of porridge, blowing on it, and then feeds it to his thin lips to test the temperature, before bringing it to Enna’s mouth.

“It’s not hot anymore, open up.”

Enna watches him feed her the half-eaten porridge, not knowing whether to

open ner moutn or not. Alter a moment or Inner conrncc ana In awe or ms power, she finally opens up and eats it.

“How is it, is the temperature suitable now?”

Enna swallows the porridge directly and nods her head.

Although the appearance is terrible, the temperature is indeed just right. Not scalding nor cold, warm and perfect for drinking.

Baron Lawrence’s brows relax, and he scoops up another spoonful for her. He still blows on it, tests half of it, and feeds the other half to Enna.

The ward becomes quiet, and as the bowl of porridge is about to be finished, Enna breathes a sigh of relief.. At this moment, the man feeding her porridge leans in with the last spoonful and seals her lips with his own—