At this moment, Old Lady Meng was busy in the kitchen preparing dinner, seemingly frying a fish, the charred aroma drifting from the stove all the way into the courtyard.
Meng Yuhuai listened intently as Hua Xiaomai finished recounting her chance encounter with Old Master Zhao that day, his expression unchanged. He grabbed a stool and sat beside her, opened the paper parcel on the table, picked up a silver thread roll, and leisurely took a bite.
Hua Xiaomai, with that matter weighing on her mind, felt restless. Seeing his reaction, she was torn between irritation and amusement, and pushed him slightly, "Are you that hungry? Can't you say something?"
"Do you think this is a big deal?" Meng Yuhuai stuffed the rest of the silver thread roll into his mouth, brushed the crumbs off his hands, and turned to look at her.
"Not a big deal, just feels a bit uncomfortable,"
