Mi Yao came to her senses, "Oh, I'm fine, Qian Rui. I'm feeling a bit unwell, let's chat some other time."
"Okay, you get some rest early. Make sure my godson is raised healthy and chubby," Li Qianrui hung up the phone.
Mi Yao clenched her phone in her palm, her face entirely pale. At that moment, with a "click," the door opened, and Feng Yueming walked in.
...
Upon seeing the man coming over, Mi Yao quickly stood up and darted towards him with her slender legs.
Feng Yueming swiftly extended his strong arms to catch her, and his large hand tucked a strand of her hair gently behind her ear. He said softly, "Why are you running so fast? Take it slow."
"Feng Yueming, there's something wrong with this soup!"
Feng Yueming's expression remained unchanged, and he casually glanced at the simmering soup. "Yaoyao, is it that the soup doesn't suit your palate? I'll have someone make it again for you."
