While Su Luoyi discussed the language and culture of country F with the man sitting next to her, her mother was busy calculating whether there was enough money at home to afford her daughter’s immigration procedures.
Mother Su had not received much education, but she had heard a bit about immigration from television.
She would not stand in the way of her daughter’s desire to go abroad.
Her husband, Song Dapeng, had been in prison for fifteen years. Although the neighbors had never bullied them, they would avoid interactions whenever possible, only greeting them out of necessity.
Robbery and murder—who wouldn’t be scared?
Therefore, Mother Su always taught Su Luoyi to be thankful to everyone for their generosity, to study hard, and that everything would be better once she left Blue City.
Because she was solely responsible for raising her daughter, Mother Su, although not yet 45 years old, had almost completely white hair. Thankfully, her tailoring skills had managed to support Su Luoyi through college and later as an exchange student in country Y.
"Is this money enough?"
"If it’s not enough, we’ll have to find...ah, we haven’t been in touch for so many years, everyone is struggling, they probably wouldn’t be willing to lend us any."
"If it comes down to it, I’ll just sell this house and get a smaller one for myself."
Mother Su looked at the bank book, her heart filled with worries.
One account was filled by sewing clothes, mending trousers, being frugal and saving, while the other held the living expenses Su Luoyi had sent her over the last two years.
As a mother, how could she bear to spend her daughter’s money? She always saved it diligently.
She knew her daughter’s life abroad wasn’t easy, juggling studies and part-time work. If it weren’t for a kind supervisor and an understanding boss, she wouldn’t have been able to save that money.
"Ah, it’s all her father’s fault!"
"In another ten years, he will be released, and then, Luoyi...ah, I hope she doesn’t hold a grudge against her father, maybe our family can still sit together for a meal.
"Even if we don’t have a meal, just seeing each other would be enough."
Thinking and talking to herself, tears inadvertently dropped onto the passbook in her hands. Fortunately, the cover was thick enough that the inside wasn’t wet.
Just as she felt relieved, the phone rang.
"Hello, is this Ms. Su? Your parcel has arrived; please come downstairs to collect it."
"Oh, alright, I’ll be right there."
Mother Su hung up the phone and went out, knowing without a doubt that it must be clothes sent by her daughter.
Jinyuan Academy, Building 28.
It was almost time for dinner, Leng Lingxiao sat at his desk, still intently watching the entrance of Building 29 behind him.
What’s the deal, overslept?
No matter how sleepy, hunger should wake him up. Oh, right, he had chocolate and blueberries!
With that realization, Leng Lingxiao slapped his forehead twice: "Mistake, mistake, I forgot I sent those over tonight, this guy might not..."
Three knocks at the door sounded.
Then, Zhao Renjie entered slowly with a tray, on which was a bowl of sunny-side-up egg noodles beautifully adorned with tomato sauce and framed by vibrant green vegetables, looking very dazzling and adorable.
"Lady Tang asked Cheng Shi to send over two bowls of noodles, saying they were having lamb hotpot tonight, but since you are injured, you shouldn’t join, so they didn’t invite you over."
"Two bowls?" Leng Lingxiao suddenly frowned, staring fixedly at the tray.
"There’s another bowl outside, Cheng Shi said it’s for me. That bowl doesn’t have a smiley face, just an egg, so it’s just sitting on the dining table for now."
Zhao Renjie, ever concerned about his survival, was afraid he might say something wrong and anger Leng Lingxiao again.
After all, the noodles were personally made by Tang Xiaowan.
His master wouldn’t speak, and he dared not eat without permission.
"Master, would you like to eat here in the study, or shall we go to the dining room?" Zhao Renjie tentatively asked.
Leng Lingxiao didn’t respond.
His mind was occupied with the scene of having hotpot with Tang Xiaowan.
The lively bubbling of spicy soup.
All kinds of foods—meatballs, konjac blocks, lamb rolls, his ever beloved tripe, and various delicious seafood—kept being added to the pot, one plate after another.
What’s the big deal with this injury?
You mean well by not inviting me?
Ah, hotpot, just thinking about it makes one drool!
Zhao Renjie thought his voice might have been too soft and Leng Lingxiao did not hear him, so he raised his voice.
"Master, are you eating here, or shall we go..."
"Ah, this Tangtang! She didn’t add any salt, no, I need to go find her, right now, otherwise the noodles will not taste good if they sit for too long, and the other bowl is yours."
"Right, can’t you tell?"
Having said that, Leng Lingxiao quickly walked over to Zhao Renjie, took the tray, and left.
No salt? But isn’t there salt at home?
He definitely needed to ask Lady Tang for it.
Muttering to himself, Zhao Renjie walked toward the dining room, his face beaming with a smile.
He was hungry too and began eating the noodles. Follow current novᴇls on novel⁂fire.net
"Mmm, this is the flavor, it’s been a while since I had this!"
"Lady Tang’s cooking skills are still amazing!"