Xia Qie wanted to refute Song Lingzhao's words. What does he mean by it was because of him that they lost their mother? Obviously, it was that woman's own ugly deeds. If she didn't say it, does it mean no one would know for life?
He didn't believe it at all.
But when he thought of his five-year-old sister Ying, who hadn't cried or made a fuss at the memorial, her small face was pale and colorless, her eyes vacant and full of apology, his heart felt a bit uneasy.
"That's my sister, of course I'll take care of her. Do you need to tell me that?"
"That's good, if there's nothing else, I'm leaving." Song Lingzhao stood up.
Xia Qie called out to him with a "Hey! Where are you going? The dishes haven't been served yet. Why leave? I specially ordered a table full of good dishes to treat you."
Song Lingzhao glanced at him sideways and said, "Even though you're not in official mourning, it's still within the mourning period, so can you eat meat?"
"I won't eat it, you eat it."
