"Mom..." While Song Qiao was lost in thought, a tender, childish voice came from the kitchen door, it was Song Nianhuan.
Song Qiao quickly snapped out of her thoughts, put down the soup ladle, and turned to walk towards the door. As she reached the door, she saw poor little Song Nianhuan holding her tiny belly, walking towards her with short steps. Instantly, Song Qiao's face took on a tender look, and she bent down to pick up the little girl, speaking gently, "What's wrong, sweetheart? Weren't you watching TV with Uncle in the living room?"
The little girl wrapped her small, soft arms around her mommy's neck, nuzzled her little face against her, and then looked at Song Qiao pitifully, saying, "Mom, when can we eat? I'm so hungry..."
