Bai Zhi glared at him and turned to her son, saying, "Xiao Bai, uncle is here for a reason, he'll leave as soon as he's done."
Duan Xingzhi surprisingly didn't get angry, "It's not really urgent, but I'm really hungry. Don't tell me you've become so stingy you can't even give someone a bowl of porridge?"
Given how the conversation had gone, Bai Zhi could only grit her teeth and go get him some porridge.
The porridge was served, but the table at home was too small for three people, so Bai Zhi had to let him sit at the table edge while she sat at the desk.
Over the past four years, Duan Xingzhi often missed her cooking. Not that it was exceptionally delicious, but the taste was uniquely hers.
After finishing a bowl of porridge and a bit of food, though not really full, it was the most satisfying meal he'd had in years.
