Work Text:
When Zhao Yunlan broke into Professor Shen's flat with Da Qing, looking for clues to the mystery that was Shen Wei, they hadn't bothered with the little kitchen, smaller than theirs, tucked away behind sliding glass doors. Now he knows they should have. There's crucial evidence right there in the pots and pans, the wok and the steamer, in the assortment and quantity of spices, the jars of pickled greens. In the plates and bowls, too, the spoons and chopsticks, far too many for a single man.
Shen Wei has no family in Dragon City – no living family at all, according to his documentation. But his kitchen's contents don't speak of a single man alone.
Shen Wei likes cooking, likes food – but more than that, he likes cooking for someone, eating with someone, having people to take care of.
Chopsticks greedily reaching for the dishes Shen Wei sets down, Zhao Yunlan could kick himself. If he'd thought to look then, seen the signs to be read in that small kitchen, he could have put them together with Shen Wei bringing food to Li Qian in hospital.
He could have had Shen Wei cooking for him much sooner than he did.