Anya and Zaizai sat down at the table.
After tasting the soup, both the adult and the child praised it with smacking lips.
"Mommy, your cooking skills have improved a lot, you could even open a restaurant now," said Zaizai, a foodie, whose praise was not easy to come by.
Jiayi smiled, but her smile imperceptibly solidified at its brightest.
In the past at Disheng, that man disliked her cooking, as if treating her like an idiot when it came to daily life, keeping her pampered in a greenhouse.
Of course, she wouldn't have made any progress.
The times she cooked frequently at Disheng seemed to be only when she was pregnant, making soup with the ingredients she bought for him.
Thinking of the pregnancy, it was like a dragonfly skimming the water in her heart, stirring ripples.
It had been some time since her miscarriage.
She thought she had reached a state of tranquility, without any attachments left.
