Xiang Linghao hurried back home and first greeted the two children sitting on the sofa.
But the two children showed little interest, responding weakly, and simultaneously leaning against the sofa. Their short legs dangling beyond the sofa, heads turned towards the TV, with expressionless faces.
Xiang Linghao felt slightly awkward, chuckled dryly, and went straight to the kitchen.
From afar, he smelled the fragrance emanating from the kitchen. As he entered, he saw Xue Xianglan concentrated on stir-frying.
He leaned against the doorframe, reminiscing about twelve years ago when Xue Xianglan held a spatula.
Back then, he lacked skill and ability to provide her a good life. She eloped with him and could only rent a small place.
She was a young lady, accustomed to luxury from childhood, never having lived in such a small, messy place, but she did not hesitate at all and decisively moved in with him.
Back then, the two squeezed onto a single bed, sleeping while holding each other.
