Even for the sake of Mo Qingyi, he had to eat well; he couldn't let Mo Qingyi worry.
Seeing Duanmu Zhe willing to eat, Duanmu Sheng finally breathed a sigh of relief. She glanced at the fresh flowers and chicken soup on the table and asked curiously, "Little Zhe, has someone been here just now?"
"Mm," Duanmu Zhe nodded.
"Who was it?" Duanmu Sheng asked with some curiosity.
Duanmu Zhe's expression was somewhat faint, "It was Lin Xiyuan."
"Oh," Duanmu Sheng went over to arrange the flowers in the vase properly, then said, "What did she come for?"
"Nothing much," Duanmu Zhe drank the last of the preserved egg porridge in his bowl and said with a hint of indifference, "Just made a little joke with me."
A joke he almost took seriously.
Seeing Duanmu Zhe like this, Duanmu Sheng didn't ask any further.
Lin Xiyuan left the hospital without crying or showing anger. She was calm, eerily calm.
Thirty minutes later, a black sedan stopped in front of the Lin family's villa.
