Overprotected By My Tsundere CEO
Chapter 45: Ninety Percent Certainty, the Remaining Ten Percent Is Just Modesty

Chapter 45: Chapter 45: Ninety Percent Certainty, the Remaining Ten Percent Is Just Modesty

"My dad pulled some strings and got me a job delivering food. Can you believe it?"

"I believe it. If you keep loafing around, I’d believe it if he sent you to feed pigs." Nora Scott replied with amusement, raising her eyebrows and smiling, "The thing is, you actually went."

With a sigh, Miguel Smith said, "Just wanted to work for a day and earn some money for your birthday gift."

"Are you nuts?"

"It’s the thought that counts."

Nora jokingly chastised, "Don’t need it. Use it to feed a dog."

"Now that’s hurtful."

Nora’s smile faded slightly as she stared at his pitiful expression, and said indifferently, "Come back."

"Can’t come back," Miguel pursed his lips with a mix of helplessness and anger, "You’re never gonna guess what happened to me."

"What happened?"

"Half an hour ago, I met a customer who was pretty interesting, so I started a live stream to share some fun delivery stories."

"Hmm."

"Then, I went to deliver an order. The person was considerate about us delivering in the snow and waited downstairs. To be considerate back, I left my electric scooter keys and phone behind and hurried to deliver the food." Miguel spread his hands and sighed, "When I got back, the keys were gone."

"..."

"But the live stream caught everything. A guy from the neighborhood took them. With the help of the viewers in the comments, I found him, but he insisted I pay ten bucks to get my keys back."

"..."

Nora’s emotions were subdued, not quite surprised, nor really angry.

Things like this do happen.

In this world, good things, bad things, kind, evil, illogical things—you’re bound to encounter them.

Miguel was slightly annoyed, "Of course, I wasn’t happy to pay, so I called the police. Now I’m waiting for them."

"So you’re just standing in the snow drinking the cold northwest wind?"

"Yeah." Miguel rubbed his nose, his nose tip red, eyes bright, and he laughed, "Full of passion and righteousness—drinking up a storm!"

Nora didn’t speak, watching him shiver from the cold over the screen, feeling both irritated and amused.

"For ten bucks."

"Is it really about the money?" Miguel retorted matter-of-factly, scoffing, "If it were you, you’d take action."

There’s noise outside the frame, indistinct talking. Miguel glanced around and then smiled at her, "Hey, the cops are here! I gotta hang up now."

The screen went black and then the video ended.

Nora raised eyebrows helplessly.

Wait, live stream?

Thinking of something, Nora paused, quickly swiped open Weibo, and checked the trending topics.

Sure enough, topics like "Rain’s Delivery" and "Rain’s Scooter Keys" appeared on the list. Clicking in, she saw the fervent discussion among netizens.

[Live streaming while delivering food? Just clout chasing.]

[Careful what you say. Rain, a legend in esports, dominated the scene and led the team to a global first, and you didn’t even know where you were at the time. Even after retiring, he’s been a god-tier game designer. He single-handedly supported half of the planning for the peak era of the game "God". Does someone like him need to chase clout?]

[My Rain God! Handsome, kindhearted, and a bit of a goofball. Doesn’t even have a single friend, just a little pitiful soul! You wanna bash me, fine, but don’t bash him!]

[Why not show the face of such a shameless person?]

[Rain God deliberately didn’t show it. Before ending the stream, he specifically requested not to show the uncle’s face if it was caught on camera. This was so sudden, and noticing this detail really shows his thoughtfulness. Cyberbullying was not his intent.]

[This guy is so handsome and has such a good temper. First reaction upon encountering something like this was not to get angry, but to talk things through—with reasoning that makes perfect sense. Only when he couldn’t persuade did he call the police. His upbringing is truly commendable.]

[Haha, calling the police—this move cracked me up!]

[All the praise must be from hired commentators. Calling the police over ten bucks is just for show, right? On such a cold day, making the police come out—it’s crossing the line, wasting police resources.]

[Exaggerating, using fans to bully.]

...

Nora casually browsed through the comments, noticing that the criticism wasn’t very harsh, she logged out from Weibo.

No further concern.

The TV was turned down low, and the living room was mostly silent. Nora tilted her head slightly and looked toward the kitchen.

At this angle, she couldn’t see anyone, nor hear any noise.

What’s he up to?

Nora got up from under the blanket, slipped on slippers, and walked towards the kitchen, peering inside when she reached the doorway.

Pedro Langley hadn’t vanished into thin air. He was standing in front of the cutting board, which had a kneading mat on it. The dough, rested and ready, was laid out and rolled thin, but—

"What are you holding in your hand?" Nora found it incomprehensible.

"Scissors."

Snip, a cut in the air.

"I can see that." Taking two seconds to process the bizarre scene, Nora then asked, "What are you doing?"

Lifting up a long string of noodles, Pedro Langley furrowed his brows at her, and said mildly, "Making a single noodle."

"..."

Nora was really at a loss for words to describe the ridiculous scene before her.

Pedro Langley, impeccably dressed, having taken off his outdoor jacket, was in a white sweater and black pants underneath. With broad shoulders and a slender waist, his proportions were superb, exuding elegance and dignity. He’d fit seamlessly into any upscale event.

At this moment, however, his hands were covered with flour, holding kitchen scissors in one hand, and a long noodle in the other. Midway through his work, the noodle still connected to a section of dough...

Indeed, the gentleman’s method of making one noodle was to roll it out into a sheet and then cut along the edge into a long strip.

After a moment of bewilderment, Nora finally said, "The sizes are actually consistent."

"Used a ruler." Pedro Langley glanced at the ruler set aside.

"..."

You engineering types—your hands-on skills are really something, and you approach everything so meticulously, huh!

After a moment, Nora asked half-speechlessly, "How confident are you?"

"Ninety percent."

Nora was taken aback, "That high?"

Putting down the thick noodle, Pedro Langley spoke unhurried, "The remaining ten percent is just me being modest."

"... You brag any more, you’ll ascend to heaven."

No matter how ’considerate’ his help was, Nora couldn’t help but start teasing.

Pausing, Pedro Langley turned around, his calm gaze lingering on her. After a moment, he seriously asked, "Have you ascended?"

"What?"

Nora couldn’t discern whether he was mocking or just asking.

Pedro Langley slightly knitted his brows, his tone faint, "You used to say you wanted to fly and dive."

"Oh..."

Nora vaguely remembered the short-term goals she had once discussed with him.

She said, "Yeah, got the certifications."

Helicopter license, diving certificate—she found them fun and got them all.

Pedro Langley curled his lips, "Let’s do it together someday."

Nora raised her eyebrows, "You got the certifications too?"

"Yeah."

"Alright then."

Slightly smiling, Nora’s lips barely broke into a grin, her bright and relaxed brows sweeping away her previous fatigue and frustration.

Contentedly retracting his gaze, Pedro Langley glanced at the time on his wristwatch and said, "It’s almost ten. The meal you owe me—let’s do dinner."

?

That’s when Nora remembered her previous promise to Pedro Langley to treat him for Christmas Eve.

Her birthday coincided with Christmas Eve.

Leaning against the kitchen doorway, Nora asked, "What do you want to eat?"

"You’re the birthday star; you decide."

"Aren’t I treating you?"

"I’m not as picky as your mouth."

"..."

Could he ever speak without sneaking in a snide remark?