"Hello, big sister."
Aunt Hua's son, Da Bao, wasn't old, but he seemed quite sensible, politely calling her Sister Qiao Jin.
The little girl in Da Bao's arms, Er Bao, wasn't scared of the stranger at all. In fact, she stretched out her tiny arms, wanting Tang Mo to hold her.
"Sister, hold me."
'They really are two little angels.'
"Get outta here. You're so chubby, how could she possibly lift you?"
Er Bao was still little, and Aunt Hua had been on the verge of weaning her. But when the apocalypse hit, she decided to just keep nursing her, so the little girl grew up fair-skinned and plump.
Although Aunt Hua herself wasn't eating anything good, she had a truly robust constitution. It was remarkable that her milk supply was still so plentiful when she ate so little.
This was especially true given that Aunt Hua had her second child at forty—quite late in life. For her milk to still be so abundant, she must have been in incredible health.
