Mya didn't know how long it would take. She watched the noodles rolling in the pot. When she tried to stir them, she almost scalded her hand.
She guessed the time and observed it from time to time. When she felt it was about time, she picked them up for Finnley.
She put the plate on the table and said, "Taste it."
Finnley looked at the plain noodles. It smelt tasteless. He took the plate helplessly and tried his best to keep calm.
"Eat them. There are more in the pot!" She happily took off her apron, turned around and took out another plate, and then sat down opposite him.
Mya looked at him and asked in confusion, "What are you waiting for? Eat it."
Finnley tasted the noodles. To his surprise, he even thought it was sweet. He was moved.
"Ah!" Mya spat out the noodles, "I didn't add salt!"
Finnley couldn't help laughing. "You didn't add salt, oil, or any ingredients. Why didn't you add an egg?"
Mya didn't know how to answer his questions. She said, "I didn't know how to cook noodles."
Finnley looked at her apologetic face and said in a relaxed tone, "It doesn't matter. Let me add something to it." Then he took the noodles into the kitchen.
"Hey, are you okay?" Mya stood up and followed him in. "You are injured. You should have more rest."
Finnley wanted to say he wouldn't be affected by the small wound.
But when he saw the noodles in the pot, he was stunned. What was it? Was she preparing some feast?
"What's wrong?" Mya stood beside him, looked at him, and asked cautiously, "are you feeling uncomfortable? Do you want to go to the hospital?"
"Why do you cook so much?" He looked at her and asked, "Can we finish them?"
"I didn't know." She answered carefully, "I was afraid it would not be enough. I didn't put so many in the pot, but it got more and more when I cooked, just like magic."
Finnley was speechless. After a long while, he said, "Get out."
"You..."
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