Sure enough, the high-end hotel's tiny kitchen had everything, though most of the ingredients were French and she wasn't very skilled at using them, so there weren't many she could use.
In the end, Gu Qili picked some rice and flour that could be used to make Chinese breakfast and simply made a meal.
He didn't usually eat much in the morning, but she was happy that he was willing to eat a little, so she rambled on: "When I was young, I didn't like eating breakfast. My dad always said it was unhealthy, and later on no matter how busy he was, he would eat breakfast with me before going to work. Gradually, I developed the good habit of eating breakfast."
The man drinking milk suddenly paused, his expression cold as ice.
Gu Qili, holding the milk glass, naturally saw his face turn chilly and asked with confusion, "What's wrong?"
He set the glass down on the table forcefully, his tone unfriendly: "Are you saying I'm old?"
Pfft!
