When Song Ci learned that Song Zhiyuan and his wife came together, a smile crept onto his aging face. He looked at his clever son sitting across from him under the south window and nodded secretly.
"It's been a while since I last saw you, and you've gotten darker and thinner. In the palace, does the Emperor not allow you to eat your fill?"
Faced with his mother's teasing, Song Zhiyuan smiled helplessly and said, "Being by the Emperor's side to handle state affairs, there's no reason not to eat well. Please, don't tease your son. It's just that the summer was harsh and the weather too hot, so I ate a little less. As for you, Mother, you seem to have good spirits."
"I have a new golden grandson, how could I not be in good spirits? The harsh summer is a problem, and now that autumn has come, have your wife instruct the kitchen to prepare more calming and lung-soothing soups to nourish you, so you don't overwork yourself."
Madam quickly said, "Don't worry, Mother, I'll remember."
