It is the right house, Xingchen verifies by making sure the furniture is where it's supposed to be. The kitchen isn't far and he continues to lead Zichen through the house. "We can have whatever you like, assuming we have it. There is rice and noodles, of course, and I think there are still some vegetables in the pantry. I don't live alone, so I can't say for sure." Except Xingchen is usually the house cook, so he should know what's in storage.

Cooking reminds him of something else, though. "Oh. These houses have advanced technology. I'm not sure how it works, but you don't need to put firewood in the oven to make it hot. There are knobs that turn instead? I can't explain it. I wish I could." His voice trails off, a hint of frustration coloring it. He doesn't complain about his blindness; that was a choice he made and he knew he would have to live with the consequences. But there's a difference when he already knows how his own world works and trying to learn this one by touch and sound alone.

If he could just see, but he won't say that aloud. Even if he and Zichen were good partners back before everything happened, he still can't just come out and suggest he use his own eyes to help him. Even if Zichen doesn't seem to be mad at him anymore and they're okay, that awkwardness of what was done hangs over Xingchen.

But to give himself something to do and not dwell on that, he moves about the kitchen, acquiring the necessary utensils in preparation.