She was not as cute as Song Yaoyao, nor was she as temperamental as Song Jingwan.
It was a simple conversation, and her posture was not overly intimate. However, it made Song Wenchuan feel the warmth that he had not felt for a long time. He lowered his head and took a sip, and his nose instantly turned sour.
"Is it good?"
Song Weiwei's eyes flashed. She pursed her lower lips and questioned him softly.
Song Wenchuan finished the chicken soup in one go and nodded with a smile. "It's good, very good—"
It was the taste of home.
He handed the bowl to Song Weiwei. "Is there any more? I want to drink another bowl."
"Yes."
Song Weiwei was a little surprised. She quickly took the bowl. Guessing that Song Wenchuan had probably been so busy that he had not eaten yet, she scooped up a bowl of soup and said, "I made some other things tonight, especially for you. I didn't touch them. Can I heat them up in the microwave for you?"
