Xi Xiaoran's wife was a fearsome goddess, a fact known to all scions of the Centennial Families.
Duan Wei had lived half her life, having hit people and scolded dogs, but she had never met a young girl who dared to invite her to share soup.
Watching Ruan Qi hold the bowl with her small hands, even the woman who wouldn't hesitate to clash with nuclear weapons was, for once, slightly stunned.
Seeing Duan Wei remain silent, Ruan Qi took it as tacit approval.
She placed the small bowl on the coffee table and then carefully poured out the soup from the thermos.
Duan Wei's soup-making skills were unmatched, her chicken soup lacked even a hint of grease and had a milky white color with a sweet and fresh taste.
Ruan Qi's cravings were hooked, her little tongue licking her lips.