Then, her round eyes widened as she gazed at Shi Che, the light in her pupils twinkling. Her lips curled up slightly, "Why make fish soup? You don't even like drinking it."
Shi Che had always been very picky with food; he disliked the fishy taste and rarely ate fish, let alone drank fish soup.
Shi Che swept her a glance, his face showing no particular emotion, and simply said, "There's no reason. I just suddenly felt like having some. Pick a fish quickly."
The smile at the corners of Ling Chuxia's lips deepened, but she didn't say anything. Her dark eyes scanned the fish tank and she nonchalantly pointed to one, "That one."
Following her finger, Shi Che looked at the fish she had pointed to. It was skinny, small, and floated there quietly, looking very lifeless and dull; it was obviously not going to taste good.
Shi Che's brows furrowed abruptly, "Ling Chuxia, that's a bit too perfunctory. The one you picked last time was so good; how can you pick so carelessly this time?"
