Feng Zhihe, desperate with longing for her daughter, had already mistaken many children similar to Lu Yiyao as her deceased daughter.
Lu Mingfei, worried about scaring Zhuo Anan, quickly walked over, "Mom, she isn't Yao Yao, Yao Yao is at home."
An An, hearing Lu Mingfei call the woman in front of her "Mom," couldn't help but look up.
This beautiful yet thin aunt, is she Lu Mingfei's mother?
Feng Zhihe glared at Lu Mingfei, "What nonsense are you talking about? Yao Yao is right here. Yao Yao, Mom made many of the things you used to love to eat. Hurry and try them."
With that, Feng Zhihe took the box from Lu Mingfei's hand and placed it in front of An An like it was a treasure.
An An glanced at it; is this aunt sick? She seemed to mistake her for Lu Mingfei's sister.
She took a piece and tasted it; the pastry was delicious, even better than those made at home.
"Yao Yao, is it good?"
"It's good, but, Auntie, my name is An An, not Yao Yao."
