A heretical cultivator in Bureau 749, I'm the fiercest at pulling out tendons and skinning peop

But Ji Zuodao did not turn around immediately.

Instead, he stood still for two or three seconds, as if hesitating or considering.

Then he slowly turned around, his face showing just the right amount of surprise and embarrassment:

"This...isn't that inappropriate? I'm not familiar with either of you, and it wouldn't be right for me to bother you like this."

He said "it's not appropriate," but his eyes had already involuntarily drifted towards the direction of the villa's gate.

There was a gleam in his eyes like that of a starving child seeing a restaurant sign.

When Zhao Ya saw him like this, she felt a pang of sorrow in her heart.

She quickly waved her hand, her face beaming with a warm smile: "No trouble at all! It's just a matter of having an extra pair of chopsticks! Come, come, come in!"

"Well... then I'll trouble you."

Dog rolled his eyes.

Damn it, I've been watching this kid's tricks for nineteen years and I still don't get tired of them.

At the dinner table, Ji Zuodao showed no politeness whatsoever.

He took a bite of a pan-fried bun in the left hand and a bite of a steamed bun in the right, stuffing his mouth full, his cheeks puffed out like a hamster's, and he was eating with great relish.

Their eating manners weren't exactly ugly, but they certainly weren't elegant.

They devoured their food with a wolfish urge, as if they hadn't eaten for three days and three nights, wishing they could swallow the entire table.

Zhao Ya sat opposite Ji Zuodao, who was eating heartily, and a smile unconsciously appeared on her lips.

That smile carried a mother's unique tenderness and contentment.

"Slow down, slow down, don't choke, no one's going to take it from you."

As Zhao Ya spoke, she poured Ji Zuodao a cup of salty soy milk and pushed it to his side.

The movements were natural and practiced, as if they had been done countless times.

Ji Zuodao picked up the bowl, gulped down a large mouthful, wiped his mouth, and let out a satisfied sigh: "That feels so good!"

Zhao Ya felt incredibly pleased with his appearance.

As expected of her son, he has a good appetite.

"Hmph, looks like a starving ghost reincarnated."

At the dinner table, Wang Bing curled his lip, looking disdainful.

The sound was neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for everyone present to hear.

When he went downstairs early in the morning and saw Ji Zuodao sitting in his usual spot eating breakfast, he almost couldn't help but spit out a mouthful of blood.

That was the seat he usually sat in.

That damn Himezudo! I knew he wanted to take my place!

Wang Bing immediately wanted to slam the door and leave, out of sight, out of mind.

But he had barely turned around, before he hadn't even taken a step, when Zhao Ya's voice came from behind him—calm, brief, yet carrying an undeniable air of authority:

"one."

Wang Bing stopped in his tracks.

"two."

Wang Bing gritted his teeth, turned around, his face dark, walked back to the dining table, and plopped down in his seat.

This thing, not only his father is afraid of it, but he is afraid of it too.

Wang Bing had been trying to ignore Ji Zuodao as much as possible, but seeing Ji Zuodao acting so relaxed and carefree as if he were at home made him furious. He tried to hold back but couldn't help but make a sarcastic remark.

"Wang Bing!"

Upon hearing Wang Bing's mocking words, Zhao Ya slammed her hand on the table with such force that the bowls and plates on the table jumped and made a clattering sound.

Just as she was about to begin her sermon, Ji Zuodao waved his hand, a kind smile on his face:

"Oh, it's alright, it's alright. Young Master Wang is right, my eating manners are indeed not very good, I look like a starving ghost reincarnated. It's a habit I've had since I was a child, I can't change it."

As he spoke, he lowered his head, looking at the half-bowl of soy milk remaining in the bowl. His voice gradually faded, carrying an indescribable sense of melancholy.

"When I was little, there wasn't much to eat, and we often didn't know where our next meal would come from. Sometimes, when I was really hungry, I would even have to fight with my dog ​​for food. I feel bad for my dog, though, since he was such a big dog and I had to share my food with him."

"But there was nothing I could do. I was young then and didn't understand rules or anything like that. I only knew that if I ate fast, I could eat more, and only what I ate was mine. Otherwise, I didn't know where my next meal would come from."

Ji Zuodao's voice was choked with emotion, and a tear even welled up in the corner of his eye. It was crystal clear in the morning light, and it was heartbreaking to see.

After saying that, he raised his hand, wiped the corner of his eye with his sleeve, then looked up and forced a smile.

That smile was strong and resilient, carrying a sense of relief that said, "It's okay, it's all over now."

Dog Lord squatted to the side watching this scene, his mouth twitching.

It had followed Ji Zuodao for nineteen years and knew the boy all too well.

Those tears were from when I was trying to hold back a yawn.

The sob was from being scalded by the hot soy milk.

That forlorn expression was accentuated by the dark circles under his eyes from staying up all night studying the Wang family's asset list a few days ago.

Damn it, this bastard's acting skills are getting better and better.

See? That woman's eyes are all red.

Zhao Ya's eyes were indeed red.

She had previously imagined her son might snatch food from the dog's mouth, but that was just an exaggerated thought.

But now she realizes that it wasn't an exaggeration, it was reality.

Her son, her son who had been missing for nineteen years, had indeed fought with dogs for food.

Zhao Ya felt as if her heart was being cut away piece by piece with a dull knife, the pain making it hard for her to breathe.

She took a deep breath, trying to make her voice sound steady, but the slight tremor at the end betrayed her inner turmoil: "Wang Bing, I apologize."

Wang Bing stared wide-eyed at Zhao Ya, his face filled with disbelief: "I..."

"Apologize."

Zhao Ya repeated her voice, brief, powerful, and carrying an unquestionable authority.

Wang Bing opened his mouth, his face full of reluctance.

His expression was as if he had been forced to eat a mouthful of excrement, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"one."

"two."

Zhao Ya started counting.

The voice was like a death knell, sending a shiver down Wang Bing's spine.

"sorry."

Wang squeezed out three words through gritted teeth, his voice so soft it was like a mosquito's hum, barely audible unless you listened carefully.

Ji Zuodao waved his hand with a smile, a smile that was very generous and tolerant:

"Hey, it's no big deal. Young Master Wang, don't blame your mother or think she's impatient. She's only doing it for your own good."

Wang Bing's eyes widened.

Damn it, when did he ever resent his mother? When did he ever get impatient? He's resentful of you, you piece of trash!

Ji Zuodao pretended not to see Wang Bing's murderous expression and continued speaking, his tone filled with genuine envy and感慨:

"Oh dear, look at your mother, she's really worried herself sick over you. I'm so envious. I can't compare to you. I was abandoned by my parents when I was little, picked up by someone else, and grew up in a remote mountain village. Sometimes I dream that I wish I had a mother like yours."

He paused, his voice lowering further, carrying a faint, lingering sadness:

"What a pity, when I woke up there was nothing there, just myself and an old dog."

After saying that, he lowered his head and silently drank his soy milk.

That silhouette, bathed in the morning light, looked somewhat lonely and forlorn.

Wang Bing was completely numb.

Damn it, there's no tea on the table, so where's the tea smell coming from?