Before Jiang Lai could speak, Little He directly interjected.
"You've only eaten a few bites and say you can't eat anymore? Didn't you say they were all good dishes? What happened? When we finally give you the good stuff, you start complaining?"
Aunt Zhao strained her neck trying to swallow the sticky, mushy piece of pork skin in her mouth, her old face flushed as she continued to argue.
"I'm an old servant who can't handle such delicacies. Prince Consort, what exactly do you mean? I've watched you grow up and now followed you here. Isn't this just trying to take my life?"
Seeing her tears and snot flowing together, Jiang Lai tapped the plate in front of him, smiling without real joy.
"Aunt Zhao, if it weren't for the thoughts of you raising me, would you still be sitting here eating your own cooked dishes?"
Aunt Zhao was startled, her legs became like noodles and she dropped to the ground with a thud, kneeling.
