The aroma filled the air, and all Lu Jiang could see was the delicate and soft glow on his wife's face. His heartstrings felt as if they were being plucked incessantly. He stood up on one leg, couldn't resist stealing a kiss, then swiftly sat back on his wheelchair before his wife could react, turned around quickly and left the threshold-free hall with the words "I will serve the rice."
"Scoundrel!" Feng Qingxue covered her kissed face, unable to hide her blush or suppress her embarrassment.
But Lu Jiang, as if nothing happened, called from the kitchen, "Qingxue, could you come over and serve the rice?"
It was only when he got to the kitchen that he realized with annoyance that he could only move one arm. If he pushed his wheelchair, he wouldn't be able to serve the rice.
Feng Qingxue came over huffily, glaring at him a few times.
