For some reason, Song Qiao always felt that something strange was about to happen today, as if something was lurking just around the corner, yet she couldn't quite pinpoint the source of her unease.
With a hum, Song Qiao directly sat beside Lu Jingchen. The man immediately put down the newspaper in his hands and served her a bowl of porridge, placing it by her hand. The sweet, soft aroma instantly filled her nostrils.
"It's still very hot, wait a bit before drinking it. Have an egg first." Seeing Song Qiao was about to eat with her spoon, Lu Jingchen acted quickly, snatching the spoon from her hand and placing an egg in her palm instead.
Song Qiao glanced at the bowl of steaming red bean porridge in front of her, which looked utterly delicious, but was unable to sample its taste. Then, looking at the egg in her hand, she couldn't help feeling a bit disgruntled. How could this even compare?
