Ying Xiong clambered onto a step stool by the sink, reaching for the soap. Bing Shi stood beside him, washing their hands together.
Ying Xiong's memories were like pictures he could edit — keeping the best ones, the ones that brought him joy, and letting the others fade.
This got on Xuan Mu's nerves so many times. What would he do for such an amazing trait?!
"Alright, little adventurer, why don't you go play while Mommy cooks us some lunch?" Bing Shi suggested as they dried their hands.
Ying Xiong nodded and scampered off to play on his own.
In their household, the norm was usually ordering food and simply setting it on the table. Thinking back, Bing Shi realized that the rare times they did cook were usually only when they were in a mood for cooking.
