Somewhere only we know / Exclusive Memory

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He parked the car and we climbed up to the fourth floor together.

When I walked to the door of my house, I suddenly realized a very serious problem, and turned around to look at Mu Chenghe behind.

"Something else?"

"I..." I want to say, teacher, changed my mind. But is it too late?

"Wait for me for a minute." After I finished speaking, I left him outside, opened the door quickly, got into the room, and put the underwear, night skirt, charger, and the coffee table on the sofa at a superhuman speed. Toner, magazines, and snacks were stuffed into the bedroom, and he was invited in.

He looked around and said without a smile, "Fortunately, it's much cleaner than I thought."

My face went dark, I bet he must want to laugh.

Finally, he sat on the sofa and watched TV and played air-conditioning, and I immersed myself in cooking in the kitchen. While I was washing rice, I looked back sadly at Mu Chenghe in the living room. There was only one feeling in my heart-regret. I regret why he treats me to dinner, but I still have to suggest that I cook it for him.

The vodka he had brought was on the table, and I swallowed greedyly.

After a while, I was frying potato shreds, and he stood at the door and asked, "Would you like to help?"

"No, it's ok to have a fried chicken wing."

"So many dishes." He glanced, "I didn't expect you to actually cook."

"Before my mom went to work, my dad ran a taxi, and I cooked and ate three meals a day. So I can do the usual home-cooked dishes, but if it's too difficult, it won't work."

He walked into the kitchen and asked me, "Is there any red wine?"

"Yes. What are you doing?"

"The next dish, I will cook it for you."

As he said, he took off another sun flower apron on the wall and tied it on his body, put water to wash his hands, then washed the chicken wings, drained the water, and then asked me, "Is there any butter?"

I stared at his series of actions in a daze. I wasn't quite used to it. After a long time, I replied, "No."

"Just have milk."

"There is milk!"

"ketchup?"

"Have."

I prepared something and stood by watching him marinate the chicken wings with red wine, milk and other ingredients.

"What are you going to do?"

"Red wine chicken wings."

"Can chicken wings be fried with milk and red wine?"

"Russian style." Then he added: "I think most children love it."

"..."

"I have a classmate whose child is three years old this year," I said.

He was startled, "How old?"