"That's so rare of you, Mother." Minghao's tone was light, but her eyes, those observant, intelligent eyes that missed nothing, were already searching her mother's face for answers to unasked questions.
Then came the question Tang Fei had been dreading.
"Mommy, yesterday... You were covered in red paint when you came home. At least, Daddy said it was paint." Minghao's voice dropped, becoming more serious. "But I don't think it was paint at all, Mommy. It looked like blood. What really happened?"
Tang Fei's breath caught for just a moment. Her daughter was far too perceptive for her own good, or perhaps exactly as perceptive as she needed to be to survive in their world.
She forced a casual laugh, the sound practiced and convincing. "Hahaha... We were processing meat yesterday for a special order. That's all it was, darling. You know how messy that can be slaughtering."
