Mrs. He held up one of the dishes and took a whiff of it. “It smells really good, so this is the cooking of a mother. It’s a lot better than the other girls.”
It was supposed to be a praise, but it grated Mu Qiao’s ears, so she smiled awkwardly. The moment she was done cooking, He Tian and his father came out of the study. When the man saw the table of dishes, he looked heartbroken. “Sorry for having you cook today.”
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