The next morning, Ji Yao got up early to make breakfast.
Ji Jiaxin, accustomed to such affairs, watched Ji Yao prepare an exquisite breakfast, while Lu Qiancheng's eyes turned red.
At home, he had almost never had breakfast made by Ji Zimo himself; it was always the nannies who made it. Although the taste wasn't bad, it ultimately lacked the feeling of love.
Now, his mouth savored a delicious breakfast, while his heart was filled with intertwining happiness and sorrow.
What made him happy was that at this moment, he finally had the happiness of an ordinary person, but what made him sorrowful was that this happiness was merely stolen, temporary.
Ji Yao was always attentive to how the two children were eating and noticed that Lu Qiancheng's movements had slowed down while eating.
"What's wrong? Don't you like the breakfast I made? Tell me in advance what you like to eat next time, and I'll prepare a feast for you two the next day."
