When the chicken soup spilled, Mo Yunhao was so frightened he jumped violently. He kept waving his hands and shouting.
"Ah ah ah, it's so hot, Aunt Zhang, what are you doing? Why is the soup so hot?"
Jiang Hongying rushed over and cradled her son's hands in her hands and blew on them. "Hao Hao, are you all right? Oh no, your hands are all red. Aunt Zhang, do you want to lose your job? How can you ask Hao Hao to carry such a hot bowl of soup? Look, his hands are scalded!"
Aunt Zhang's mouth twitched.
The soup was not really hot, all right?
Old Mistress had just brought it in, and no matter how hot it was, it had already been outside for a while. Also, when people carried soup bowls, they held the sides and the bottoms. Who would cradle the bowl in both hands like Mo Yunhao?
He was a grown man and almost twenty years old, yet in these difficult times, he was still so delicate and pampered. He didn't seem like a man from the Mo family at all!
