"Stop eating, it's too awful... How can you keep eating this?"
Nolan Morrison smiled: "It's not too bad, it's not poison after all."
Even if it was poison, I would savor it as if it were honey.
He said silently in his heart, he had never imagined that one day he would taste the food she cooked herself. Now that he had tasted it, how could he not cherish it?
What he was eating was not the taste, but her affection.
Matilda Jenkins, who never wanted to wash bowls and spoons before or step into the kitchen, washed her hands to make soup for him, worked hard to learn cooking for his sake, how could he bear to disdain the things she made?
Matilda Jenkins knew why Nolan Morrison didn't say the food was awful, even graciously complimented her. She poked the noodles in the bowl and said, "I'll try harder to make it more delicious in the future."
She truly had no talent in cooking, and to achieve this level, no one knew how much effort she had put in.
