Ji Ting's nose suddenly stung, and that surging warmth welled up in his eyes again. He gripped Ji Yanzhi's hand tightly, his voice low and thick with tears. "Ji Yanzhi... thank you."
"Do we really need to thank each other?" Ji Yanzhi turned to look at him, a warm smile curving his lips. "Besides, I should be calling her Mom anyway."
Ji Ting's lips parted, but the words he wanted to say became a firm, tearful nod. "Mm."
Ji Yanzhi picked up a tissue and gently wiped Ji Ting's eyes, soothing him as he did. "All right, no more crying. It wasn't easy for the three of us to get together. Let's enjoy our meal."
"Mm."
Ji Yanzhi rose and cleared away the bowls of cold soy milk, then soon returned with three freshly filled bowls of hot soy milk.
As they ate the steamed buns, he specially picked out a shrimp one for Ji Ting. "Try this. See if it tastes like the ones you ate as a child."
Ji Ting lowered his head and took a bite, chewing carefully. "Mm, it's just as good."
In truth, it wasn't the same.
The buns he remembered from childhood had never been this generously filled, nor had the shrimp been so fresh and springy. But Ji Yanzhi had put his heart into this, and he didn't want him to feel anything was lacking.
The atmosphere around the little dining table gradually warmed. "Ji Minghua" smiled and, like any mother who cared about her child, gently asked Ji Ting about his work-whether he was usually busy and whether he got along well with his colleagues.
Ji Ting put down his spoon and reached out, gently resting his hand over the back of "Ji Minghua's" virtual hand on the table.
"Mom," he called