Then holding the food, she took the little girl to sit on the chair. She placed all the delicacies in front of her.
Watching her eat with great enjoyment.
Zhang Mengjie's eyes were full of love.
When she was young, she wasn't as fortunate as the little girl. Back then, she and her sister, if they wanted to eat a good meal, it relied on fists; whoever had the stronger fists would get to eat their fill.
To fill her sister's stomach, she often got beaten up. She often took her sister to street stalls to eat. After eating, she would let her sister run first, then stay behind herself to draw the attention, usually getting caught herself and taking the beating.
But every time she got some concerned looks from her sister, she felt very satisfied.
"Sister, why aren't you eating?" The little girl was already greasy, extending her little hand with a piece of chicken wing to Zhang Mengjie's mouth, wanting to give it to her in a soft voice.
