Cheng Youlin took the cup, sipped a mouthful, and nodded, "This mushroom soup is really good, so fresh. Looks like the owner wasn't lying."
Lin Zishuang also took a sip and couldn't help saying, "This mushroom soup is just so-so. Back in my hometown, anything we casually pick from the mountains tastes better than this."
After speaking, Lin Zishuang took another bite of the vegetables.
What kind of taste does Feng Tianyou even have? Didn't she make soup for him back when they went herb-picking?
Can this soup even compare to hers?
Maybe he's forgotten.
When Feng Tianyou heard Shuang'er's comment, the corners of his mouth subtly curved upward.
Was Shuang'er upset? Was she mad because he was being too nice to Cheng Youlin? So maybe, in her heart, he wasn't entirely insignificant after all.
Thinking of this, Feng Tianyou's mood brightened, and he thoughtfully added some dishes to Cheng Youlin's plate.
By the end of the meal, Lin Zishuang had eaten quite a bit.
