Zhao Lixia felt distressed at the sight.
"Mom, relax, it's just a small thing!"
Su Zelin shrugged it off: "I'll have a few bowls of the delicious soup you made, get a good night's sleep, and by tomorrow morning, I'll be full of energy again!"
Xiaolin was known for his quick recovery, and Su Zelin was well aware of that.
Clear your mind overnight, and by morning it's back to full strength.
That's why the night he went out with Qin Shiqing on Christmas Eve, he had to go to the bathroom and angrily scold that rebellious fellow several times, beating it to the point of spitting blood.
"Haha, you can't go without your soup. I bought an old duck today, started stewing it at noon, and it's just right now!"
Zhao Lixia was overjoyed.
A son craving his mom's soup—it's the happiest thing for any mother.
The women chatted over here, while two middle-aged men with a passion for driving were examining the Santana 2000 over there.
"Zelin, got a new car again?"
Qin Daqing asked.
