The man silently shook his head, standing in the living room and observing the layout of the villa.
Then, he raised his hand and pointed to the sofa not far away, heading towards the kitchen without saying a word.
Qin Yiren felt a bit dizzy, draped in a small blanket as she sat on the sofa, listening to the crisp sounds of pots and pans from the kitchen.
In this vast villa, she was no longer alone.
Perhaps people are more vulnerable when they're sick, and this fact made her feel reassured.
Picking up the remote control, she lowered the TV volume and occasionally glanced back towards the kitchen, somewhat worried the man wouldn't know how to use the foreign imported kitchenware.
After all, he couldn't speak, so even if he couldn't use them, there's no way to ask—he'd have to figure it out slowly on his own, right?
But all the labels on the kitchenware are in English...
