Little Bo Jiu ignored her father. She really wasn't in the mood for food, especially when she heard that her mother was not coming back.
In the end, the man stood up, and went to the floor-to-ceiling window. He glanced at the building outside the window, saw that the light over there was on, and laughed again. "Master Jiu, I found our dinner."
"Even the noodles you cook taste terrible. I don't want to eat it," Bo Jiu expressed her disinterest.
The man stretched out his long legs and blocked his daughter's path. "I'm not the one cooking. Bring the fruit plate on the table, we will head next door and have some of their food."
Next door? Her eyes lit up when she heard the two words. She quickly placed the fruits into a box.
It was too unreasonable to give a fruit plate as a gift – even though her dad smiled and emphasized, "That's an old friend of mine from China."
