A few minutes later.
Zhang Jing picked up her mother.
Back home.
Her sister was lying on the sofa, playing with her mobile phone. When she saw her, she jumped up, rushed over, grabbed the bag from Zhang Jing's hand, and muttered, "There's food now."
Seeing this.
Zhang Jing smiled and scolded.
This girl.
She knew that every time she went to Tang Qing's house for a meal, she would bring back some snacks, things you can't find outside, no matter how much money you have. Her sister probably hadn't eaten anything all evening, just waiting for her.
Open the box.
The aroma drifted out.
"Mom, come and eat."
"I've already eaten."
"This is different." When they were young, anything delicious was left by their mother for them. Back then, good food equaled justice. Now that they're grown up, it's unreasonable to eat alone.
"Alright."
Then.
The mother and daughters ate with relish.
"Delicious."
"Especially this seafood, it's so tasty."
"Uh-huh."
