Four dishes and a soup, one meat and one vegetable dish, one cold and one hot—such not-too-demanding requirements were no longer merely simple for Zhu Ying, who had been a competent housewife for years. They were effortless.
But when she carried out the soup from the kitchen, she was startled by Li Mao, who sat cross-legged on the sofa wrapped in a blanket, looking like he had lost all will to live.
Perhaps the pregnancy hormones in her body had yet to fade after giving birth, and her maternal glow was at its most dazzling. Even when she saw an Alpha older than herself looking unwell, she instinctively asked in a gentle tone.
"Are you feeling unwell?"
"Mm," Li Mao answered dully.
"But weren't you fine before? Did you catch a cold? Where does it hurt? There's medicine at home. I'll help you find some."
Zhu Ying quickened her pace toward the dining table, intending to set down the soup before finding medicine for Li Mao.
Li Mao cooperatively pointed at his mouth and described, "My mouth, throat, lungs... my whole body. Everything hurts."
"Is it a cold?" Zhu Ying guessed.
"I... I want to smoke."
After saying that, Li Mao reached out, picked up a cigarette standing on the coffee table, took a deep sniff beneath his nose, then tossed the cigarette—now seemingly drained of all its essence—back onto the table.
Zhu Ying, who had witnessed this incomprehensible method of smoking: ...
Even now, she still did not quite understand why Li Mao was going this far for the baby.
It was not that she was not grateful for what Li Mao had done. She simply felt that, emotionally or logically, he did not need to be this considerate.
"Eat... let's eat. I'm starving." While Zhu Ying was lost