The food was quickly served.
Looking at the array of delicious dishes, Zhi'er only swallowed her saliva twice.
However, the little one took the initiative to pick up her favorite braised meatball and placed it in Feng Fuce's bowl.
Feng Fuce looked calmly before asking, "Why aren't you eating? Aren't you usually fond of this dish?"
Zhi'er climbed onto the chair beside him, picked up the bowl, and fed the meatball to Feng Fuce's lips like an adult taking care of a child.
Her eyes were bright and lively: "Even though it's my favorite, you haven't eaten in six days, so it's more important for Brother Fuce to be full."
Feng Fuce was stunned.
Zhi'er poked at the meatball, urging, "Hurry and eat, or if it falls to the floor, I'll pick it up and make you eat it."
After she spoke, Feng Fuce bowed his head and bit into the meatball.
A sensation as light and refreshing as snow spring flowed down his throat into his organs.
