Nia Mitchell puffed her cheeks, looking like a feisty little lion sitting on Maxwell Peary’s lap, her fur practically bristling.
"Oh, getting bolder now, are we?" Maxwell Peary pinched her plump cheeks.
"Indeed," Nia Mitchell admitted frankly. Hmph, what could he do about it?
Maxwell Peary shook his head. "I’m hungry," he said very seriously.
Nia Mitchell rolled her eyes, pouting her lips, a mischievous glint in them. "Then compliment me, and I’ll give you the lunchbox."
Oh, is Rabina pushing her luck today!?
"If you don’t feed me, I’ll eat you!"
Suddenly, Maxwell Peary swept Nia Mitchell up by the waist with a WHOOSH and headed towards the Waiting Room.
"Ah! No, no, no! I was wrong, I was wrong! I’ll feed you." Nia Mitchell’s little feet kicked in fright as she hurriedly held up the lunchbox to block his view.
At that moment, she really did look like a little rabbit—lively and active, but also somewhat startled.
He wanted to give her two long rabbit ears and a vast expanse of land where she could hop around freely.
"Do you really know you were wrong?" Maxwell Peary stopped, still holding her horizontally in his arms.
Seeing him stop, Nia Mitchell immediately nodded furiously. Of course! If she didn’t behave now, was she going to wait until she was punished on the spot to admit her mistake?
"It’s good that you know you were wrong. However, Uncle isn’t full yet and doesn’t have the energy to handle you."
Maxwell Peary, having gotten his way yet still playing coy, spoke in a low, hoarse voice that was enough to make anyone blush.
Nia Mitchell playfully pounded Maxwell Peary’s chest. This man was such a tease, always provoking her until her little face turned bright red.
"You’re being so improper! Hurry up, look at the time! Lunch is about to get cold."
Nia Mitchell wiggled her little feet. She was still being held by him. The feeling of her paws not being able to touch the ground was actually quite wonderful.
He turned, carried her back to the sofa, and took the lunchbox from her hands.
Nia Mitchell quickly reached out with a SMACK, stopping Maxwell Peary from opening the lunchbox, her whole body protectively leaning over it.
Giving him a big smile, Nia Mitchell opened it with a flourish.
"TA-DA! Dumplings! They’re beef-filled, you know. I made them."
Nia Mitchell observed Maxwell Peary’s expression expectantly, anticipating his smile, his approval, his praise.
Her bright, limpid eyes were fixed on his face, trying her best to see a different reaction from him.
Maxwell Peary’s expression was one of the world’s unsolved mysteries.
She was incapable of deciphering his expression. As for knowing his thoughts, hmph, perhaps in her next life.
"You made these?" Maxwell Peary finally spoke after a long moment.
Only he himself knew how much emotion was suppressed behind those three plain words.
Growing up, no one had ever made dumplings specifically for him.
As he became more successful and rose higher, it was as if he became increasingly disconnected from ordinary life.
He hadn’t felt that he needed such things.
That included his mother.
And even that sister of his.
"Yes, I made every single one in here. Though, the filling was prepared by the chef in the kitchen," she said, sticking out her tongue playfully before taking out chopsticks and offering them to him.
Maxwell Peary sat there quietly, not moving. He stared at the chopsticks that had been placed before him, his gaze growing increasingly fervent.
He was a little afraid, afraid that his hand would tremble if he reached out.
Wouldn’t that be embarrassing? Read complete versıon only at 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡⚑𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚⚑𝙣𝙚𝙩
"Uncle? What’s wrong? Don’t you like them?"