He and his sister running home and leaning over the kitchen stove, drooling over fresh beef.
Mu Qingcheng would urge them to wash their hands while she continued to prepare dinner with a smile.
When the hotpot was ready and served on the table, the two little guys would wolf down the food. They were not afraid of being scalded.
As Mu Qingcheng ate, she would suddenly stare at an empty seat at the table in a daze.
The table in the rental house was a typical eight-seater table. Each of the two children would sit on either side. With only three of them, one side of the table was naturally empty.
Mu Qingcheng would often get up, take out a bowl and pair of chopsticks, and place them on the table as if completing a pious ritual.
All the while, she longed too much to have her own family. The family she desired, had nothing to do with being rich and powerful. She only wanted a small family in which everyone was healthy and safe.
