The plaque is very old, made of reddish-brown wood.
It seems to have weathered many years of wind and rain, already showing so cracks, carrying a sense of antiquity and age, yet not as tacky as the contemporary plaques.
Qiao Mo withdrew her gaze and turned to look at his side profile.
He stood at the door, gazing absentmindedly inside the shop, at the old television, sowhat worn tables and chairs, and mories began to surface bit by bit from the depths of his thoughts...
"How is it? Is it delicious?" a girl with pigtails confidently asked.
"It’s okay." Sitting opposite her was a boy in a white shirt, sitting upright, looking slightly older than her.
"If you don’t like it, then don’t eat it."
Saying this, the girl moved a serving of soup dumplings on the table to her own side, as if protecting the food.
"Who said I don’t like it."
Back then, they seed to have known each other not for long.
...
"Fu Nancheng?" Qiao Mo called softly a few tis, not knowing what he was thinking, only rarely seeing his gaze so gentle.
"Let’s go in." Fu Nancheng withdrew his gaze.
Qiao Mo nodded and followed him, and even after ordering she was still a little incredulous that this man who could single-handedly dominate Jiang City would co to a place like this to eat.
It wasn’t until ten minutes later that a chubby lady brought up two trays of soup dumplings, enthusiastically shouting, "Soup dumplings are here~"
"Enjoy the al, you two, the soup is very hot, be careful when eating."
The two trays of soup dumplings were plump and steaming, the dumpling skins pinched on top were very small, like tiny turnip heads, yet at first glance, for a soup dumpling, seed a bit unqualified.
Because the dumpling skin is often pursued to be thin and translucent, but these two trays, though cute, always felt the skin was a bit thick.
Seeing him pick up his chopsticks, Qiao Mo couldn’t help but try one.
Entering the mouth smooth and tender, the aromatic soup instantly overflowed lips and tongue, fresh but not greasy... slightly hot, yet unexpectedly delicious!
She always quite liked eating soup dumplings, but it happened that nowadays they were getting greasier, almost all with a factory-produced feeling, after two bites, just felt oily.
Biting through the dumpling skin, the soup overflowed a spoon, drinking it in one gulp, the fresh taste made Qiao Mo almost want to bite off her own tongue.
Fu Nancheng glanced at her lightly, observing her gradually rosy cheeks and that pretty little mouth, lightly curling his lips without a word.
The two ate seriously, Qiao Mo rarely stuffed herself, yet still felt insatiable.
"No wonder you’d co to a place like this, didn’t expect the taste to be so good, true masters are among the people." Qiao Mo exclaid.
Fu Nancheng’s chopsticks paused slightly, slowly looking up at the woman in front of him.
Facing his deep eyes, Qiao Mo felt a little uneasy, "What’s wrong?"
Didn’t she rember anymore?
Ha... truly laughable.
The mories he was cautiously guarding had long been forgotten to her...
Qiao Mo inexplicably sensed he was a bit gloomy, with even the aura becoming slightly cold.
"Fu Nancheng? What’s wrong with you..."
As soon as Qiao Mo uttered a sentence, the man had already thrown down a bill and got up, turned and headed out the door.
Wasn’t he just fine a mont ago?
Suddenly what happened...
Qiao Mo hurriedly followed, quietly getting into the car with him, sensibly not speaking.
Only when they returned to Nanshan Villa did Fu Nancheng lock himself in the study as soon as they got ho.
Qiao Mo remained on the sofa in the bedroom, reading a fashion magazine until eight at night, glancing at the clock on the wall, her thoughts drifting far away.
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