An Junlie patted her head, persuading her, “But you spent so long just to produce one dish, what a waste of time. I’ll cook for you from now on; you just do what you enjoy.”

Ziye blinked, paused for a long moment, and then sighed. “I also think cooking is exhausting, even more tiring than my alloy testing.”

An Junlie couldn't help but chuckle.

Ziye thought for a moment, then suddenly asked, “What I cooked wasn't actually very good, was it?”

An Junlie had just managed to divert her attention from the issue of taste, only for her to circle back to the original point. He sighed helplessly, “How do you think your cooking turned out?”

Ziye rested her chin in her hand. “I approached it with the precision I use for metal testing; logically, it should have been smooth. But the ingredients are so vicious! They are all irregular shapes. Cutting them according to texture and cell structure is genuinely difficult, especially since I’m not familiar with biology…”

The CEO felt, for the first time, the urge to complain about Ziye.

He desperately wanted to say that cooking had nothing whatsoever to do with biology.

But remembering how she had just collapsed into his arms weeping, the words wouldn't leave his throat.

As the old saying goes, when God closes a door, he closes a window. Ziye was a once-in-a-million genius in metallurgy, but when it came to cooking, she wasn't even as good as a machine.

He affectionately stroked her head. “Biological anomalies are fine, as long as they are dead anomalies. People should do what they are good at and leave what they aren't to others; that’s how resources are rationally allocated. Be good now, go wash your hands, and I’ll start cooking for you.”

Ziye thought of his cooking and swallowed hard. “Okay.”

She washed her hands clean and started walking out. After a few steps, she turned back and saw An Junlie tying on an apron, his movements as practiced and fluid as when she was fabricating a robot. Of course, with his height and long limbs and dignified appearance, his actions while doing this were magnificent.

A small, unconscious smile touched the corner of Ziye’s mouth. On interstellar television, An Junlie looked as imposing and stern as possible; he looked as rigid as possible. But here, he was acting like a housewife, voluntarily cooking for her, voluntarily managing her daily life, looking as gentle as could be.

To say she wasn't touched would be a lie.

Before, she had been afraid of depending on him, but now she suddenly realized that without knowing it, she had grown reliant on him.

After several days of good food, good drink, and good sleep, Ziye pinched the flesh on her cheek; it seemed she had gained weight.

She excitedly ran up to An Junlie, spun around once, “Alien, do I look fatter?” An Junlie laughed softly and pinched her cheek. “You’re too thin; you need to eat more.”

Ziye pouted in dissatisfaction. “You must be lying to me.” They had polished off four dishes and one soup between them; how could she still be thin? Her clothes even felt snugger.

An Junlie held out his hand, forming a circle with his middle finger and index finger, gripping her fair wrist. “See? Even without my thumb, a single middle finger can circle your wrist. Doesn't that mean you’re thin?”

Ziye looked at her wrist, then at her ankle, and suddenly realized that everywhere else seemed to have filled out, but these two spots remained bony and thin.

She fumed in exasperation. “That’s just how I’m built. Look at the rest of me!”

An Junlie said confidently, “I’ll make you plump.”

Ziye imagined her hands and feet chubby and round, and she instantly couldn't accept it. “I don’t want that, I really am fat.”

An Junlie sighed, placing both hands around her lower back. “Both my hands fit easily around you. Are you sure you’re really fat?” His palms were unusually warm, radiating heat through the fabric against her kidneys. She involuntarily trembled and turned back to look at him, her face flushed.

He frowned slightly, his expression serious as he contemplated how to make her gain weight, as if he were facing a crucial decision regarding the future development of the Angel Realm.

For him, such an intimate gesture was simple and pure. His gaze was clean and commanding, devoid of the slightest hint of flirtation from beginning to end—candid and generous, just like the man himself.

Ziye couldn't help but laugh; she no longer felt awkward. She shifted her body slightly and said, “Shall we go watch their PK?”

The number of people on Silver Charm Star exceeded one thousand, but only thirty-four were selected for the first batch to leave.

To ensure fairness, it was unanimously agreed that only those who passed both the verbal sparring and the talent PK would be among the first to step foot off Silver Charm Star.

The PK venue was set up in the plaza near Big Head’s home. Before they even arrived, they could see a dense mass of heads covering the plaza from a distance, suggesting over 90% of the population was present.

By the time Ziye disembarked the airship, the ‘Dead Pervert’ had already won.

His victory had come especially quickly, summarized in one statement: “If I don’t go, what will you all eat in the future? If I don’t go, will the robots Ziye makes even sell? If I don’t go, you won’t see any lolis from now on!”

Ziye couldn’t produce lolis with