After dinner.
Amo personally brought two bowls of hot pomelo peel soup.
The boiled pomelo peel soup, resembling the color of floral water, had a slightly darker shade, giving off a somewhat bitter smell.
Drinking it was even more pungent. The bitterness lingered on her lips and tip of her tongue, leaving a slight astringent, numbing sensation.
Even as it seeped into her stomach, the bitterness clung on.
Yet Qiaoqiao drank a whole bowl in one breath, then picked up another bowl. After pausing for half a minute, she raised her head and finished her drink.
She did not wince a bit.
Amo was relieved, "It's a bit bitter, but it has no side effects. It won't harm the baby in your belly."
"It's not bitter." She shook her head, lapped up the soup juice on her lips, and suddenly laughed with joy, despite the additional bitterness on her tongue, "Since you, personally, made it for me and our baby, no matter how bitter, it tastes sweet."
Yes, so sweet.
