When Song Qingchun was about two meters away from the dining room, the sound of the exhaust fan stopped, and Su Zhinian walked out of the kitchen with a plate in his hands.
He placed the plate on the table before he noticed her standing at the door. He glanced at her coldly before adding indifferently, "Have your breakfast."
Then, he pulled out his usual seat and sat down. Song Qingchun nodded wordlessly. Her heart was inexplicably nervous. The hands by her side clenched into fists, and she started walking toward him.
There were two staircase steps separating the living room and dining room. When Song Qingchun put her feet on the first step, she sucked in a breath surreptitiously. With a grit of her teeth, she closed her eyes, and her feet slipped from the edge of the second step. Even though Song Qingchun was already mentally prepared, when she toppled onto the floor, the pain still managed her wheezed out in shock.