The Famous Crybaby Boyfriend - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I think my boyfriend might be made of water. The second something doesn’t go his way, he starts crying.

And yet he was clearly a brawny guy nearly six foot one, with a broad back and everything.

I looked at my boyfriend sulking and crying in the kitchen, and sighed.

He had the image of a cold, elite professional, yet there he was, ridiculously wearing a red plaid apron as he stood in front of the humming kitchen appliances.

He had only just come home from work and hadn’t even had time to take off his suit. Beneath his dark navy jacket, he wore a white cashmere turtleneck, the collar folded down at his Adam’s apple. Above it was the clean, sharp line of his jaw.

Higher up, a tear was still hanging brightly on the bridge of his nose. His eyes were wet and shimmering, his lashes clumped together from the tears, making him look like he had been bullied half to death.

I shuffled over and wrapped my arms around his waist. He pushed my hands away.

I shamelessly went in for another hug. He removed my hands again.

I let out a dissatisfied little whine, then wrapped my arms tightly around his waist again and pressed my face to his back.

By the third time he pushed my hands away, the force was already so gentle it was practically a caress.

He was a crybaby, sure, but he was also easy to coax.

When he spoke, his voice was still thick with tears. “Can you be serious for once? Can you actually take what I say seriously?

“Didn’t I tell you before I left this morning that breakfast was on the table, and that you should order takeout for lunch?

“You never take my words to heart! You stayed up all night yesterday rushing your draft, slept until noon, then got up and kept working, and now…” He glanced at his watch. “Now it’s eight o’clock! You’re only just eating your first meal of the day. How is your stomach supposed to handle that?

“And when I called you to eat just now, you even complained I was being annoying. All day long, you just stare at your computer and ignore me…”

He seemed so aggrieved he couldn’t bear it anymore. Halfway through speaking, he sniffled and let out a tiny sobbing hiccup, making even the hands I had wrapped around his waist tremble with it.

I clung to his back like a koala and apologized into him in a muffled voice. “Baby, don’t be mad, okay? My editor was just pushing me really hard. I was in a hurry to turn in my draft, so I didn’t have time to eat. Be good, don’t cry… From now on, I’ll definitely eat three meals a day on time. Not a minute early, not a minute late. How’s that?”

I ducked under his raised arm and pressed myself firmly into his embrace, lifting a hand to wipe his tear-streaked face. “Baby, don’t cry anymore. You’re breaking my heart, okay?”

He turned his face away.

The water in the pot came to a boil. He lifted the lid and, as if venting his anger, tossed in a handful of leafy greens.

I leaned over to look at the lonely noodles and vegetables in the pot, then rubbed against him again. “I want char siu noodles.”

He ignored me completely. “All you’re getting is plain noodles in clear broth. Eat it or don’t.”

But in the end, the bowl of noodles he served not only had three thick slices of char siu on top, but also my favorite soft-boiled egg.