Noticing her gaze, Song Tingfan slightly tightened his hand, "What do you want to eat?"
Lin Qiao shook her head, "I don't feel like eating."
During her recent episodes of fainting, her consciousness remained. There was always someone to wipe her hands and face morning, noon, and night, even talking to her at night.
She clearly knew it was Song Tingfan.
Song Tingfan's eyes reflected a hint of joy, his hands nervously hidden behind his back, "Have some soup, I'll bring it." After saying this, he strode out of the room.
Outside, the sudden cicada buzz became a temporary annoyance. Lin Qiao carried Lin Ling to the bed and wiped her eyes, "Don't say those things again, daddy treats you well."
"He doesn't treat you well, mom, you've become thin, there's no meat on your face. Mom, I'll call Mr. Xu to take you home and nourish you until you're chubby." Lin Ling held her face, speaking with concern.
