The proprietress was clearly delighted; this was the happiest she'd been in decades.
"Little Ying, thank you so much. If it weren't for you, I don't know when I would have ever made that call. I didn't know if he'd still be willing to call me 'Mom,' and I never imagined he'd actually come back to see me."
"Oh, Little Ying, I have to go back and get some new bedding ready, plus all their favorite foods. I can't stay."
After the proprietress left, Little White seemed rather indignant.
Wen Ying noticed its mood and reached out to stroke its fur. "Don't get so worked up. You'll have your chance to do whatever you're planning once he's back."
Little White's eyes lit up. 'That makes sense.'
'The son may have had his reasons, but not contacting his mother for so many years is still his fault!'
'The proprietress worries about him every day—she has way more white hair than others her age. And what about him, out there enjoying himself?'
