President, your wife has slapped you in the face again.

"Fu Yisheng, where's your face?" Feng Yin wanted to strangle him to death!
"I can arrange for him to come, but I don't have to guarantee his safety, right? Since you want him to come and go safely, then serve me three meals a day. From this meal onwards, I will serve three meals in a row I am satisfied, and I promise that Leng Yue will not lose a single hair. I did what I said, you see, I didn’t make it difficult for you, did I? If I deliberately find fault, I will let you do a few more meals. "

Feng Yin, who listened to Fu Yisheng's unreasonable reasoning, lost his temper. What's the point with this kind of person?
"You are not too much at all! Heh..."

Feng Yin's words, his tone, even a fool could tell that it was ironic.

But Fu Yisheng didn't care.

His goal has been achieved, and everything else is nothing but floating clouds.

Feng Yin sat on the sofa, picked up the millet porridge, and fed Fu Yisheng spoonful by spoonful, and from time to time his eyes signaled her to eat pickles.

It took more than 20 minutes to toss a bowl of porridge before putting down the bowl and chopsticks. Fu Yisheng's eyes flashed, "No dessert?"

Feng Yin: "!!!"

"You just drank a bowl of millet porridge! It's not western food! What dessert do you want?!"

"Why are you so excited? I'm really ignorant! Who said that there is no dessert in Chinese food? What I just ate is two dishes and one soup, isn't it? I want to eat purple sweet potato balls for dessert, not too sweet, not too sweet The quick-frozen..."

"You just say you want me to steam the purple potatoes and fry them for you right now!" Feng Yin slapped the table, held back his anger, got up and left.

Purple potato balls, right?
Choking to death, okay?

An hour later, when Feng Yin returned to the bedroom with fresh and hot purple potato balls, Fu Yisheng actually leaned on the sofa and fell asleep.

Just as Feng Yin was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he saw Fu Yisheng frowning, and slowly opened his eyes, his eyes were filled with desolation, and there was even vulnerability in them.

He looked at Feng Yin, but his eyes were empty.

Quietly, gently.

At this moment, Feng Yin felt a sense of panic.

"My family was poor when I was a child. For me, millet porridge is soup and water. Even so, my mother scooped as much millet into my bowl as possible. The millet is not enough, but because it is a gift from a neighbor, it does not cost money. Is there any other choice? Although I drink millet porridge, I am the happiest when my mother feeds me.

But the happy days didn’t last long. When I was five years old, my mother saved some money by doing odd jobs. I was clamoring to eat chicken legs. My mother crossed the road to buy it for me, but was hit and killed by a drunk car. The driver escaped. I have to make up for it. During that time, my father was very painful. He thought that I killed my mother and called me a nemesis.

A year later, a kind-hearted woman married my father. She didn’t think my family was poor, she treated me well, and the food was delicious. Gradually, my father’s attitude towards me became better. The stepmother was barren and treated me as his own. The son looks at it.It's just that such a good life didn't last long. When I was nine years old, my father wiped the glass at high altitude, the rope broke, and I fell from a ten-story building. My flesh and blood were bloody and my brains came out.

My father's boss was worried about taking responsibility, and the company was already losing money, so he ran away that night. We didn't get a penny of compensation. Father's funeral was still done by a few co-workers.A year later, my stepmother took me to remarry, and she was still very kind to me. Although my stepfather was a drunkard and would beat us when he was drunk, what I thought at the time was that I was already ten years old, and in five or six years I would die. I can go out to work, and I can support my stepmother by working and earning money, so I take her out and we live alone. "