The waitress sang more and more enthusiastically, and soon, people around started to look their way. Quite a few children even came over to their table, joining in the waitress's merry shouting.
Meng Sihan's body slightly trembled, seeing dozens of people gathering around. His dark face displayed a myriad of expressions.
"Sir, 'Haidilao' wishes you a happy birthday!" The waitstaff chimed in unison.
Meng Sihan felt everyone's eyes on him, and a new word popped into his mind—"social death."
"Thank you," he said, maintaining the grace that prevented him from ignoring others' hard work.
Soon, the waitstaff left, but a few kids lingered by their table, their round eyes fixed unblinkingly on the cake.
An Yin noticed this and cheerfully said to the kids, "Why don't you each get a small bowl, and I'll share some cake with you, okay?"
"Okay..."
"Yay..."
"...."
