In the blink of an eye, a week passed.
At eight in the morning, Ling Chen was called up by Yang Qingling, "You child, it's already so late and you're still in bed."
Seeing his mother standing at the door, Ling Chen hastily covered his body with the quilt, "Mom, I'm so grown up, how can you just enter my room?"
"No matter how grown up you get, you're still my son." Yang Qingling put her hands on her hips and said irritably, "Hurry up and get up, there's a guest outside."
"A guest?" Ling Chen quickly sat up and asked, "Mom, who's here?"
"I don't know him, your dad is hosting him right now."
"Okay, I'll be right down." After Yang Qingling left, Ling Chen dressed quickly, rushed through his washing up, and then went to the first-floor living room.
