Feng Shiyi’s expression collapsed when he was asked what type of soup this was. He said rather anxiously, “I made some millet gruel. I cooked it for really long, but it didn’t seem like it was fully cooked. I just checked it, and it seems ready now.”
Lan Muwei was amused as she nodded. She looked closer and really did see white porridge. The rice porridge did seem rather normal.
Seeing that Feng Shiyi looked rather depressed, Lan Muwei offered, “I’ll try a little.”
Feng Shiyi immediately broke out into a bright smile. He had already mentally prepared himself for his porridge being refused out of disgust. “Okay, okay. I’ll bring you a bowl right now.”
He placed the soup pot on the table, turned around, and ran into the kitchen. Soon, he returned from the kitchen with two bowls and soup spoons.
Lan Muwei was rather surprised as she looked at Feng Shiyi. He used well-practiced movements to ladle the rice porridge and then pushed a bowl in front of her, acting as if he was waiting to be praised.