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"..." Yan Chen defended, "Who am I doing this for? I'm just giving you two a chance. People have caught up with me, and you haven't forgotten. Just be together."

As he said this, he saw Ji Yang's face change, and he quickly gave him the key, "Here, here, here, what's the big deal? Don't I treat her as my own family?"

Ji Yang put away the key and didn't bother to pay attention to him.

After he left, Yan Yihan looked at Yan Chen, "What do you mean? What are you talking about? Whose car?"

Why didn't she understand?

Yan Chen was feeling uncomfortable, with a stern face, "His wife gave it to me, and I want it, what can I do if I force it on me?"

He was so distressed.

If I had known earlier, I wouldn't have gambled. I lost two million plus a car to Ji Yang, and all the benefits I got from Yi Yan were gone.

Two million.

"My cousin doesn't have a wife." Yan Yihan was even more confused. Yan Chen's face was ferocious, and he scratched his head a few more times in anger, and left in anger.

Ji Yang gave the winnings to the younger generation of the Yi family as New Year's money.

Yan Yihan got 2 million, and the remaining nephews and nieces got 1 million each, which was just enough to give out.

He was accompanying Yan Ting upstairs at this time.

The other party was in a good state recently. He smiled a few times when he saw him these few times, and said hoarsely, "Are you Ji Yang?"

"Mom, it's me." Ji Yang squatted down and looked at her at eye level.

"You are so old?" Yan Ting's eyes were confused, "But I don't know you, why are you Ji Yang?"

"Ji Yang is my son."

"My son."

...

She began to fall into her own world again, muttering.

Ji Yang sighed, stood behind her wheelchair, and pushed her out.

The only thing that comforted the Yi family was that Yi Ting's condition seemed to be a little restrained and did not continue to deteriorate.

On the other side.

Yi Yan only stayed in an old house for a few days and left on the third day of the Chinese New Year.

She was alone in this villa.

Recalling that she spent the last New Year with Ji Yang, it was quite lively at that time, and he cooked a large table of dishes for several consecutive days.

The two of them ate together, washed dishes together, and watched movies together...

Memories are the most exhausting.

In the next few days, Yi Yan called the supermarket staff every day to send ingredients over, and she started to cook by herself.

"Hiss..." She could cut her hand when cutting garlic. She looked at the blood beads and frowned in pain.

Suddenly remembering that she was only cut by a layer of skin last time, Ji Yang was shocked. After looking carefully, he breathed a sigh of relief, took her hand and kissed it, "You'd better not touch it."

Then he pushed her out.

Yi Yan came back to her senses again. The blood was already dripping down. She pressed the wound and went to the living room to find a hemostatic patch.

After bleeding and putting on a band-aid, she began to handle the ingredients clumsily.

One finger was restricted in movement and could not touch water, so the movement must have been much slower. When cutting potato shreds, they were cut crookedly.

She didn't understand why Ji Yang could cut them so neatly.

The lengths and sizes were different, and some were starting to be lumpy. She cut them and put them on a plate, and then went to wash the vegetables.

The meats were all processed, just pour them out and wash them again.

After getting ready, she started the fire, and the water stains in the pot slowly evaporated. She knew she had to pour the oil.

She poured it in quickly, and accidentally, it seemed that she poured too much.

The fire was too big, and the oil soon smoked. She was reluctant to fry the leeks and cuttlefish first, so she put in shredded potatoes.

The oil splashed quickly, and she was so scared that she hid back, covered the pot with a lid, and quickly turned down the fire.

After adding water, the oil would not splash, so she dared to stir-fry.

However, this turned into boiling, and she forgot to put garlic, and the taste was not fragrant at all.

After boiling, it was soft and sticky, no different from steaming.

The next dish was fried Kung Pao Chicken. She put the ingredients in the wrong order, and the ingredients were all fried.

Cola chicken wings do not need to be stir-fried. She tasted it and found that the taste was a little lighter. She could add some salt, but she was still very satisfied.

She put the leeks and cuttlefish fried at the end, washed the pot carefully, put oil in the pot when it was hot, and then put garlic.

Put the cuttlefish in, the oil meets the water, and it starts to splash quickly. She turns her head away and stirs it quickly with a spatula.

After the cuttlefish is fried, it is almost time, add the leeks and start to stir-fry.

There is not enough oil, and soon, the bottom starts to burn.

She quickly adds water, pours another large spoonful of oil, and adds salt.

I don’t know when it is cooked. At the end of the frying, it is greasy and the leeks are almost dry.

It’s like the water has been squeezed out, the cuttlefish is very salty.

She looked at the dishes on the plate, feeling a little sad, and she didn’t want to eat.

Among the six dishes, only one cola chicken wing was edible. In addition, the radish and pork ribs soup she cooked was not a failure.

She looked at the dishes on the table, holding the bowl, but her chopsticks reached for the dish of leeks and cuttlefish again and again.

She ate with a blank expression.

The heat was not right, and too much oil was added, which made her throat itchy that night after eating.

Coughed violently.

The next day, her throat was inflamed, dry and painful.

The first time she was alone at home, she didn't care about this discomfort. She was stubborn and tried again and again.

Every day, she fried a portion of leeks and cuttlefish.

Gradually, she knew how to control the heat. When frying cuttlefish, she could add some seasonings and when was the best time to put the leeks in.

Adding a little water can make it easier to stir-fry.

The color of the fried dishes became more and more beautiful. When she finished frying this dish again, a smile appeared in her eyes.

It was neither salty nor bland.

She tried a bite, and the smile in her eyes faded the next second.

It didn't taste like his cooking.

No matter how much he imitated it, it wasn't him.

Yi Yan put the dishes on the table, and subconsciously took two bowls and sat down slowly.