Ah-Yao still didn't quite understand.
His memories hadn't even started yet, let alone experienced the bitterness of life.
His parents fed him most delicately. Even when he was about to feed him soup, they had to scoop off the oil slick, the vegetables had to be chopped up, and the chicken breast had to be boiled before it entered Ah-Yao's mouth.
He was smart and well-behaved, but he was also very scheming.
He just never suffered "hard work" in his life before.
There were still many things he didn't understand. Han Qiao may have lectured him twice, but he didn't pay attention to it because he was still young.
But after this trip, Han Qiao knew that although her son was young, he was very scheming.
"Ah-Yao, did you see that roasted sweet potato?" Han Qiao carried Ah-Yao.
This child ate well and was very strong. He was a little heavy to carry.
Ah-Yao nodded, then shook his head, "It's not tasty."