Chapter 82: Craving Hotpot

Huang Pu leaned back, his expression deep and affectionate, then pulled out his private phone and began typing. Before long, the message was sent out. Unbeknownst to Shangguan Renran, the tide of comments online had shifted, growing overwhelmingly one-sided.

"She killed someone in broad daylight—does she really expect sympathy? Not executing her is already too lenient!"

"Exactly, she deserves to die!"

"I think our country should really restrict firearms. Every year, ninety-two percent of our incidents are because of them."

"Those tears are so fake, aren’t they?"

"I agree, she should be put to death."

"Get out of the royal family already! You’re a disgrace to our nation."

"It’s laughable, really. Does she think a public apology is enough to make everything right? That’s absurdly unfair!"

"This is unacceptable—just because she’s a princess, she gets away with it?"

"Our country doesn’t have such selfish, narrow-minded, ruthless princesses."

"She’s not fit to stay in Country G."

"Please, I beg you, take your pathetic acting and roll yourself right off the face of the earth!"

...

...

Qian Suyin did exactly as Biya had taught her. At first, she had many supporters, but for reasons she couldn’t fathom, suddenly the comments all turned against her. Furious, she destroyed the entire room.

Shangguan Renran found the whole affair tedious. She tossed her phone aside.

"Mr. Huang Pu, shall we order something to eat?"

Her eyes sparkled with excitement; she was craving hot pot, craving it deeply.

"What would you like to eat?"

"Hot pot!"

"Alright, let’s go."

"Go? Aren’t we ordering in?"

"Be good. Food from outside isn’t healthy. I’ll make it for you myself."

Shangguan Renran immediately wriggled with delight. "Mr. Huang Pu is going to cook? Hot pot?"

Huang Pu pulled her firmly against his chest, a strange look in his eyes. "Don’t move."

---

"What’s wrong?"

She noticed his expression had changed; a sheen of sweat was forming on his forehead.

"Be good. Sit still."

He was reacting to her closeness.

Shangguan Renran seemed to sense what was happening and immediately sat perfectly still. Her face flushed a bright red, the blush spreading all the way up her neck.

She was mortified. Never again, she vowed, would she sit on his lap like this.

After a long while, Huang Pu finally took her to the nearest villa.

They stopped at the supermarket together first, both wearing masks. But good looks are hard to hide, even behind a mask.

They bought only the ingredients Shangguan Renran loved for hot pot: enoki mushrooms, greens, Chinese cabbage, spinach, coriander, black fungus, shiitake mushrooms, button mushrooms, dried bamboo shoots, potatoes, shrimp, sea crab, lotus root, water bamboo, carrots, tofu, ham, cured meat, chicken feet, beef, scallops, meatballs, rice cakes, gluten, glass noodles, bamboo fungus, konjac, and more. They made three pots: one spicy, one mild, and one just for soup—filled with silver ear fungus, red dates, lotus seeds, and the like.

Hot pot with wine, it’s said, kills bacteria, removes gaminess, and cuts the grease.

Shangguan Renran savored her favorite shrimp and felt a deep, overwhelming satisfaction.

"Mr. Huang Pu, this is all so delicious!"

"Then eat as much as you want."

Huang Pu, wearing gloves, patiently peeled shrimp for her, piling them on her plate, and used his chopsticks to gather vegetables into her bowl to cool.

"But what if I gain weight?"

"Be good. I don’t mind."

"Who said anything about you?" she huffed. She just didn’t want to put on weight herself, but fortunately, she wasn’t one to gain easily.

She happily ate, marveling at how skilled her Mr. Huang Pu was in the kitchen—unaware that he’d been taking lessons from the housekeeper every night.

For Shangguan Renran, this was the most she’d ever eaten in her life.

The spicy pot was delicious, Mr. Huang Pu’s milder version was just as good, and the soup was exquisite.

The result: she thoroughly stuffed herself.

Slumped on the sofa, Shangguan Renran let out little groans of discomfort.

When Huang Pu emerged from the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of his little darling looking utterly wilted. He couldn’t help but laugh.

Catching him laughing at her, Shangguan Renran tossed a cushion his way. "Mr. Huang Pu, you’re not allowed to laugh at me!"

---

Huang Pu caught the cushion and placed it behind her head to prop her up more comfortably. "Alright, I won’t laugh."

"Rub it for me, please."

His large hand gently massaged her belly. "Feeling better?"

"Mr. Huang Pu, your massage is wonderful."

Reclining, she felt supremely comfortable.

Huang Pu watched her, eyes closed, a look of blissful contentment on her face. He couldn’t help but smile.

Under his soothing touch, she drifted off to sleep.

Huang Pu fetched a small blanket to cover her, swapped out the cushion behind her for a softer pillow, then took his phone and stepped out onto the balcony.

"Mo Qi, I want her hand."

"Yes, sir."

...

He hung up and dialed another number. "Mo Er, from now on, do not supply any arms to the royal family. As for the existing contracts, triple the penalty and withdraw."

"Understood."

...

If anything had happened to his precious girl, he would have let them taste hell itself.

—

"Ye Zuo, where are you?"

In the car, Ye Zuo answered the call. "Is something the matter, Miss Xia?"

"I told you to call me by my name, didn’t I? Can I come find you for dinner?"

"Miss Xia, as I’ve said before, you don’t need to thank me. I only helped you because you’re a friend of our young mistress."

"I know it’s because of Ranran, but I just want to treat you to a meal."

"That won’t be necessary."

Xia Wanqing stared at her phone as the call ended, feeling a little lost—she had been rejected so many times now.

She didn’t even know why she persisted. But she remembered very clearly that night, when all hope seemed lost, he appeared so heroically.

Ever since, her heart would race whenever she was near him, and his image lingered in her mind, impossible to shake.