Su Qinglan placed the stone bowl back into Lan Yue's hands.
The bowl was still warm, steam slowly rising from the surface. The smell alone made Lan Yue's stomach tighten. She lowered her gaze and took a small sip.
She ate not because she wanted to. She ate because she had to.
Her hand unconsciously moved to her lower abdomen. The child inside her was still alive. And it needed strength and energy to survive. No matter how broken she felt, she could not let herself starve.
So she chewed slowly and carefully.
The food was soft, warm, and rich. The taste spread across her tongue, unfamiliar and overwhelming. Lan Yue paused for a brief moment, her fingers tightening around the bowl.
It was delicious. She had never eaten anything like this in her entire life.
In her city, food was simple and bland. Meant to survive, not to comfort. But this felt like something made with care.
Without realizing it, she took another bite.
And another.
Su Qinglan watched her quietly.
