"Mother! Wake up! Your dear son stewed some chicken soup for you today! I woke up very early this morning just to buy this chicken from an old lady at the market!"
A small, warm hand rested on her shoulder, shaking her with the reckless energy typical of a young child. Ruan Jiaojiao’s eyelashes fluttered as she muttered and burrowed deeper into her quilt.
Seeing that this method failed to rouse his mother, the nearly three-year-old child puffed and panted as he carried a coarse ceramic bowl over to her.
Chapter 165