Yanjing.
A villa.
Qiao Yu had returned home on the morning of the Mid-Autumn Festival.
Seeing Qiao Yu come back, her parents were overjoyed.
"Have you had breakfast? Shall I prepare something for you?" asked her mother, Zhao Yidan.
"Mom, don't fuss, I ate at the airport, I'm not hungry yet. Let's wait for lunch and eat together," Qiao Yu hastily gestured.
"You always come back so late every year, why push yourself so hard?" Zhao Yidan complained.
"For those of us in the baijiu business, festivals are the busiest times," Qiao Yu replied casually.
At the mention of business, her father, Qiao Hang, showed a look of pride on his face. Looking at Qiao Yu, he was quite satisfied and smiled, "The whole family knows about your distillery's news. Your grandfather has been singing your praises, saying you're accomplished. How's the business this year, still smooth?"
