As Zhou Jiaojiao spoke, she bit her lower lip and put on an innocent and pitiful expression.
Zhan mo was indifferent, his cold face was unmoved.
Instead, it was ruan Mengmeng who chimed in,"alright, let her stay." When we were eating, you didn't say anything. The table was cold and quiet, and I ate less. Zhou Jiaojiao's talkative nature was perfect for relieving boredom. This way, I'll eat more and have a better appetite."
The window of the kitchen was open, so he could hear the conversation in the small courtyard.
The cook, who was preparing the ingredients for dinner in the kitchen, heard ruan Mengmeng's words and his hand trembled, almost cutting his finger with the kitchen knife.
This miss ruan had the nerve to say that she had a bad appetite.
The amount of food she ate every day was more than twice that of others.
She looked slender and petite, but she could eat at least two bowls of rice for dinner.
