"It's not a good idea, Miss Yang. The soup's hot, so I'll serve it." Auntie Gui didn't dare to let her serve the soup, but she still snatched it away.
Yang Zixuan served Mama Ye a bowl of soup before her gaze landed onto Mo Xiaomeng. She smirked.
"You're a guest, so I'll have to serve you first."
She sounded like she was a host in her own home.
Yang Zixuan's eyes were cold as she schemed about how to splash the soup at the girl in a natural manner so that no one would find out that she did it deliberately.
Mo Xiaomeng was daydreaming about something.
Yang Zixuan thought that the moment was ripe and pretended to have tripped over her own feet.
"Aiyah —"
Her whole body hurtled forward.
Inexplicably, her legs were suddenly hindered by something. Her hands retracted in a panic.
The soup, which was supposed to have splashed outwards, splashed onto her hands instead.
"Ah—" Scalded by the hot soup, Yang Zixuan shrieked.
