In fact, there was only one chicken leg left on the table.
"Eat up, make sure you're full!" Mom said tenderly, stroking Fatty's chubby head.
Mom was always the best, supporting Fatty and encouraging him not to give in to Dad's gaze, to act on his own will.
With Mom's encouraging gaze, Fatty no longer cared about Dad's opinion, his pudgy little hands reaching for the chicken leg.
Dad had no choice but to retreat, withdrawing his intimidating gaze, worry increasingly evident on his face. It wasn't a good sign, the boy was only eleven, already one meter forty in height and weighing nearly 170 pounds, round like a ball, his head also chubby, making him look even rounder.
He had heart problems before, gasping for air even while eating, but he would keep eating. Old Song was terrified the child would choke, so every time he watched the kid eat, he couldn't help but worry.
