Resurrecting the Genius Within

Chapter 438 “Wife”

The room was cramped and tiny, making George, who was nearly 1.9 meters tall, look like a giant. Isabelle lay on the bed watching him bustling around.

“What are you doing?”

George turned around. “Cooking porridge.”

He was actually cooking porridge for her.

Soon, George brought the bowl of cooked porridge to the bedside.

Knowing that Isabelle was picky and probably a bit of a clean freak, George said, “I’ve cleaned the utensils many times, they’re clean.”

Isabelle stayed silent.

George blew on the porridge to cool it down and began spoon–feeding her.

After she had a couple of spoonfuls, Isabelle suddenly exclaimed, “It’s not even cooked.”

George paused, thinking cooking porridge didn’t require much skill and since it didn’t have much taste anyway, he hadn’t bothered asking if she liked it.

He hadn’t expected something as simple as porridge to go wrong.

Taking a spoonful of the clearly undercooked porridge himself, he realised the rice was still half raw.

George remarked, “I’ll cook it again.”

Isabelle said, “No need.”

Then she asked, “What about you?”

George replied, “I’ve made plenty, I’ll eat after you’re done.”

Isabelle said. “Then… Maybe cook it a bit more.”

George smiled. “Sure.”

it, turning it into mush. He tasted it

cook up another batch and wait for half an

to avoid the burnt

regained some strength and then

remaining porridge, then went to boil water to help Isabelle

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few more days passed, and Isabelle’s shoulder, forn open multiple times, finally began to treat

and brought it to the bedside to wash

Isabelle, adjusted her position so her head was near the edge of the bed, and started to carefully

at the man above her, concentrating on his task, George noticed her

blurted out, “Your clothes

Yours isn’t any better.”

faint smile crept up on the corner of Isabelle’s lips.

added. “But you look

smile on Isabelle’s lips deepened.

continued to carefully wash her

with Jim? Did he

the castle blew

Isabelle nodded.

desert castle, but it clearly wasn’t the time to dig for

a while, Isabelle suddenly asked, “What

18th. Why?”

said. “No

like eating tonight?” George asked.

available, just try not to go out,”

George

one delivering food to George was a teenage

in this slum, and the beat–up little house was left to him by his late

money to rent the house

the evening, as Isabelle lay on the bed, she heard the young boy coming again to deliver food to George. Peeking through the crack in the door, the boy curiously

“She’s