"But Mommy doesn't even know how to make pork buns," said Angel Joe.
Huo Xiaoran couldn't help but laugh. The more talented Qiao An was in literature, the lousier she was in art. It should be difficult for her to create a pattern of small animals by hand.
Huo Xiaoran reminded the child, "Just look for Daddy if you want to eat anything in the future. You don't have to look for Mommy."
Joey and Angel Qiao nodded happily. "Yeah."
After serving the two children's breakfast, Huo Xiaoran carried the steaming breakfast upstairs.
Qiao An was probably too tired last night. Coupled with the fact that she had been tortured by Huo Xiaoran and Lu Mo's wedding recently, she was in a rare good mood. This sleep seemed to be making up for all the sleep she had lost.
It was eleven o'clock, but Qiao An showed no signs of waking up.
