At present, Tang Yuxin was just a three-year-old child, the age when kids are at their most oblivious. They still crawl and roll about in the dirt, playing with their siblings in the mud, needing someone to feed them or else they'll get food all over their faces and all over the table.
They can't even talk well, let alone read or write, so how could they possibly remember so much?
Tang Yuxin ran over and picked up a long-leaved herb. She brought it to her nose and sniffed.
"Grandpa said, the one that looks like Agave is called Qinghuan Grass, and it smells sour. This one smells sour."
"Um, right," Chen Zhong finally smiled at this point, but his smile was naturally cold. Some people are like this, their smiles seeming almost nonexistent. Others, though, naturally have good faces, their lips turned up, their eyes warm. But the things they do are even worse than pigs and dogs, kind of like Zhang Yong'an.
Even now, she could still recall the sweet words he once had for her.
