Mrs. Walton cried and laughed. "What else do you want to eat? Mommy will make it for you…"
Helena wanted to say that there was no need. She was full, but after some thought, she said coquettishly, "Mommy, I want to eat your braised meatballs. It has to be spicy! And pickled pepper chicken feet!"
Mrs. Walton wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and said, "Alright, alright, alright. Mommy will make it for you now. I knew you wanted to eat spicy food, but you're not allowed to eat it for treatment. Are you hungry?"
Helena was like a little girl. She hugged Mrs. Walton's arm and refused to let go. She nodded obediently. "Yes, yes. I want to eat it even in my dreams. I'm so hungry!"
Mrs. Walton's heart ached. She finally had the chance to cook a meal for her beloved youngest daughter. She did not dare to ask for anything else.
Mr. Walton remained where he was.
