"Huh, what's this smell, it's so fragrant!"
Little Qian'er instinctively twitched her nose, instantly waking up from her cravings.
She sat up clutching her bedding, craned her neck to look around the empty room, the door was half-closed, and the aroma was wafting in from the courtyard outside.
Little Qian'er first ruled out one correct option, her face full of suspicion and surprise: "Did our kitchen's pot start cooking on its own?!"
At this moment, Zhao Rong walked briskly into the room holding a bowl of rock sugar bird's nest and a plate of special breakfast, not spilling a drop from the dishes in his hands.
He had just heard Qian'er's muttering at the door and couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth.
"You're daydreaming."
Zhao Rong placed the breakfast on the Eight Immortals table not far from Qian'er's bed, rolled down his sleeves, walked to the bed, and gently knocked on the forehead of the lazy girl staring expectantly at him.
