Xuan Zhe's painting was placed in the backseat, and two servants helped carry it into the villa. Father Ran squatted in front of it for a long while, then told the butler to remove the old painting from the study and replace it with this one.
Ran Yao had recently been thinking of buying a silk scarf. What a coincidence—Wen Shuang had one delivered right to her door.
The dark green was exceptionally elegant. Ran Yao happily changed into a moon-white gown and used the scarf as an accent. She was breathtakingly beautiful. She had been the princess Father Ran held in the palm of his hand. Even after an unhappy marriage and years adrift outside, she still could not conceal the freedom and vitality in her bones.
Lunch was quite lavish. A huge braised pork knuckle sat before Wen Shuang. He glanced at it, then felt a little embarrassed, so he lightly nudged Xuan Zhe. President Xuan understood and smiled as he scooped more than half of it onto Wen Shuang's plate. The meat had been stewed until it fell off the bone, its fragrance mouthwatering.
"That's too much, too much," Wen Shuang said, though his eyes shone brightly. He felt like he could polish off three bowls of rice with it.
Xuan Zhe lightly shook his head at his grandfather and mother, signaling them not to mind. Wen Shuang was very serious when he ate. If someone reminded him of it or expressed amazement, he would get embarrassed. So no one spoke at the table. Wen Shuang ate with complete focus and really did finish three bowls. In the end, Xuan Zhe ladled him a bowl of chicken soup and thoughtfully asked, "Want more? Maybe some dessert afterward?"
Wen Shuang's heart skipped a beat. He secretly looked up