"Wen Wan, I'll help you with half of it," Little Mo Yao said with a supportive air.
Wen Wan was on the verge of tears. What did she mean by helping her? It was her own dish, and now she was the one helping her out!
Reluctantly, Wen Wan picked up a piece with her chopsticks and put it in her mouth. She hadn't disliked celery that much before, but now she suddenly found herself disliking it.
Little Mo Yao held back her laughter, as if she had found a kindred spirit, and asked, "Doesn't it taste awful?"
Wen Wan nodded vigorously, "It's incredibly awful."
"That's why dad is the odd one out," Little Mo Yao whispered, covering her mouth with her hand.
Wen Wan couldn't help but laugh. However, she couldn't swallow what was in her mouth and was about to spit it out when the man's voice stopped her, "Don't spit it out!"
Wen Wan looked at the man with a sense of grievance, but he showed no intention of offering her any pity.
