Ling Qingyu picked up a dish and brought it back to the table. She scooped up the rice inside one of the boxes and put it on the plate. Arranging everything carefully so that Zhao Xiurong just needed to come and eat.
Ling Qingyu tucked her hair behind, careful not to spoil the food. Perhaps, her OCD aspect came into play again; Ling Qingyu continued placing the dishes in several neat and beautiful orders until the picture satisfied her.
Finished, Ling Qingyu rubbed her hands and asked: "You haven't eaten anything yet. Why not have a meal inside your stomach? Working for so long without anything inside isn't good for your health. Don't pressure yourself too much. I'm always behind you, Sister Zhao."
"Sister Zhao?" Ling Qingyu tilted her head and saw Zhao Xiurong, staring at her with her mouth agape. Despite having some guesses, Ling Qingyu asked. "What's wrong? Aren't you feeling well?"
