"Here, have this." Xia Lu kept piling food onto Zhou Mingchen's plate, as if determined to make him gain weight. She never used to do this; at their dining table, it was always eat what you want, no interference from each other.
After a few rounds, Zhou Mingchen finally put down his chopsticks.
"What exactly are you trying to do?"
"Hmm?" Xia Lu blinked her big eyes, her hand still suspended in mid-air holding the spoon. After the vegetables came the meat, and now she was ready to serve soup—a full service indeed.
"Eating is eating, why do you keep piling food into my bowl?"
Xia Lu put down her spoon, pouting, "I'm worried you won't eat enough, I'm concerned about you. Why are you unhappy about it?"
"I'm not disabled; I have hands and feet, and I'm not a child for you to feed."
