Ever since Yan Qing became a wastrel, he loved to indulge in fine foods and entertainment, and naturally, everything he used had to be the best.
The chef at Marquis Duanjing's residence was hired by him for a hefty sum, even better than the Imperial Chef from the palace. That family had been chefs for generations, and even their medicinal meals were incredibly delicious.
When Cheng Chu and other wastrels occasionally dropped by Marquis Duanjing's residence to mooch a meal, they would praise it greatly, yet Yan Qing remained indifferent. Today, although Ling Hua only complimented once, she ate with such a look of satisfaction that it pleased him more than all the wastrels' flattery combined.
Yan Qing ate more than he realized.
Ling Hua, on the other hand, overate again. She reluctantly put down her chopsticks, placed her hand on her little stomach, and sighed deeply.
Yan Qing felt curious. "Why the sigh?"
