That evening, all three men almost simultaneously returned home.
Tang Mingfan: “What’s that smell? It smells so good!”
Tang Boxin, expressionless: “Next door.”
Linlin: “I’m not hungry at all.”
“Father, Brother, Linlin, you’re back!” Tang Zhuojun peeked out from the kitchen, smiling. “Wash your hands and come eat.”
The three men looked at her, each reacting differently.
Tang Mingfan: “Ah Jun, you cooked?”
Tang Boxin: “Hmph hmph.”
Linlin: “Pretentious.”
Tang Zhuojun: “…”
The three men washed their hands and silently sat at the table. Tang Zhuojun, with Xiu’er, brought over the dishes and rice.
She had made a large pot of Mao Xue Wang, fragrant and oily, making mouths water; the milky-white bone broth had tender marrow glistening with oil, garnished with green scallions. She also made garlic-sprout scrambled eggs, and Linlin’s porridge contained meat picked from the large bones—just this small bowl of savory meat porridge to compensate for his inability to eat spicy food.
Seeing the three men frozen in shock, Tang Zhuojun anxiously said, “Try it—you’ll see, it’s actually quite good.”
Tang Boxin was the first to react: “What kind of enormous disaster have you caused this time?”
Tang Zhuojun: “Me? No, I just went out to buy groceries and cook. Before, I was too ignorant, but I won’t do that again.”
She acted shy, nervously rubbing her clothes, looking pitiful.
As expected, Tang Mingfan said, “Boxin, don’t talk like that about your sister. A prodigal who turns back is worth gold. Eat, everyone, eat!”
Tang Zhuojun secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Ah, the heart of every parent is compassionate. In her previous life, Tang Zhuojun had known how to soften her parents’ hearts, and copying the same approach and here it worked just as well.
Tang Mingfan picked up his chopsticks and lifted a piece of pig intestine. “Th-this… is pig intestine?”
Tang Zhuojun said, “I cleaned it thoroughly. Father, please try it—it’s really good.”
To show that she was truly responsible, she picked up a piece and put it in her own mouth.
Xiu’er muttered beside her, “You spent half a pound of flour cleaning it—of course it’s clean.”
Tang Zhuojun: “…Go on, eat your own food!”
Tang Boxin snorted coldly. “So it’s still just wasting food.”
Seeing that his daughter was eating it, Tang Mingfan, though initially hesitant, closed his eyes and took a bite.
“Father, spit it out!” Tang Boxin panicked.
Tang Mingfan froze for a moment, then his eyes brightened. “Delicious! Really delicious! Boxin, you have to try it.”
Tang Boxin, disdainful, dug into his bowl of rice. “I’m not eating.”
Father was getting more and more ridiculous. His sister had been spoiled so much in the past that she nearly caused chaos, and now that she had brought pig intestine to the table, he was indulging her.