Song Cibao became a matchmaker, so overjoyed that he could burst with happiness, but the moment he saw his hopeless fourth son, his good mood instantly flew away, and even the fried chicken in his mouth lost its flavor.
He couldn't wait to fling his chopsticks at his infuriating son devouring his meal.
Crunch crunch.
Song Zhiyu bit into his fried chicken drumstick with a loud crunch. Not to brag, but ever since his mother fell ill and then seemed to have a revelation, she kept ordering the small kitchen to make all sorts of peculiar foods, which were surprisingly delicious.
Look at this fried chicken drumstick, oh my, why is it so crispy and so delicious?
"Mmm, if only there was some wine to pair with this, it would be a perfect match. Mom, don't you think..." Song Zhiyu looked up, halting his biting action cautiously.
Crunch.
Song Ci: "..."
Holding back laughter.
