Du Zhongheng closed his book, got up, and clapped his hands, indicating for the babies to go out and wash their hands to eat.
Everyone quickly sat at the same table. Although Mo Ruyue wasn't there, the atmosphere didn't seem awkward at all.
The taste of the food made by the Liu couple was the typical taste of a farmer's firewood rice. It was especially fragrant, but it was still far from Mo Ruyue's cooking.
Although Du Zhongheng had tasted Mo Ruyue's cooking before and could not forget it, it was his first time tasting the Liu couple's cooking. his eyes also widened when he ate it.
"Uncle Liu, Aunt Liu, why does this food smell so good? They're all made from the same rice, vegetables, and meat. Why is it so rare to find such a taste in the city?"
