Song Qingqing's eyes lit up, and she ate one mouthful after another.
Until she finished a bowl, she didn't feel uncomfortable and even felt she couldn't get full.
Song's mother watched her daughter like this, and her eyes turned red with distress.
As long as her daughter could eat, it was good. This way, she could produce milk to feed the child.
In the evening, her milk started to come in; after much effort, the baby finally got the first taste of it.
Dinner was brought by Mrs. Zhou. She liked this daughter-in-law: gentle, beautiful, with a good job, but she herself had lived an ordinary life all her life, of course, wouldn't make an exception.
This made Song's mother dissatisfied, but considering her manners, she didn't make a fuss.
"In-law, really, thank you for your efforts."
"It's nothing. There's no hard work about taking care of my daughter. It's my duty.
