Yuncheng, Song family residence…
It was already 10.30 p.m. when Song Fengwan returned home from the atelier. Song Jingren had gone out for a business social gathering and hadn't returned yet, so the house appeared especially quiet and empty.
"Miss, you're back. There's soup in the kitchen. Let me get you a bowl." The woman who spoke was in her forties, and everyone called her Aunt Liang. Since Song Fengwan started to remember things, she had always been helping out in the Song family household.
"Thank you, Aunt Liang." Ever since Song Fengwan entered her senior year of high school, she had to stay up until one or two in the morning before going to bed. Qiao Aiyun was afraid that her body wouldn't be able to take it, so she asked someone to make soup for her every day.
How could there be so many geniuses in this world? It was just that others worked harder than you.
