Seeing him come downstairs, Zhou Yun promptly called out, “Come and eat, Xiao Ran.”
Zhao Ping, who was nearby, snorted and said, “You slept until the sun was high in the sky. Why didn’t you just sleep straight through till tomorrow morning?”
Zhao Ping had always been strict with his son and maintained an indifferent, lukewarm attitude toward him. Every time the two met, they could hardly exchange a few peaceful words before ending up in an argument.
After all, Zhao Ran was hardly an obedient type.
Zhao Ran rolled his eyes inwardly. “What? How long I sleep is bothering you now?”
Infuriated by his attitude, Zhao Ping slammed his chopsticks on the table. “You little bastard! Is that any way to talk to your father?”
Zhao Ran showed nothing but contempt for this so-called father and shot back without hesitation, “I don’t have a father. The year I turned eight, when my mom died, my father died along with her.”
Zhao Ping was so enraged he couldn’t even eat. Pointing at Zhao Ran, he was left speechless.
Zhou Yun, who was beside them, quickly stepped in to smooth things over. She had known all along that these two couldn’t be in the same room without clashing. She patted Old Zhao’s hand before turning to Zhao Ran, shaking her head slightly. “Xiao Ran, don’t be like this. You just woke up—you must be hungry. Why don’t you sit down and eat?”
Zhao Ran glanced at her, then let his gaze drift down to her soft, delicate neck. “None of your business.”
Zhou Yun felt a pang of hurt and turned her head away. Ever since Xiao Ran had reached adulthood, he had gradually grown more distant toward her. But she had always treated him like her own son. She could tell that Xiao Ran had actually liked her, his stepmother, so why had things turned out this way…
Had she somehow fallen short? Zhou Yun’s eyes reddened slightly at the corners.
Zhao Ping, still boiling with anger, was about to continue cursing and pointing at Zhao Ran when Zhou Yun noticed his intention and quickly grabbed his hand. “Old Zhao, let it go. Don’t be angry. Xiao Ran must be tired and in a bad mood from all the traveling he did yesterday—don’t take it to heart. Besides, don’t you have a business trip to go on today? It’s getting late; you shouldn’t miss your ride.”
Zhao Ping took a heavy breath, glared furiously at his unfilial son, but ultimately didn’t say anything more. He stood up and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Tch. Always the same old story, Zhao Ran grumbled to himself.
The atmosphere grew eerily quiet. Zhou Yun tentatively asked, “Xiao Ran, the congee is still warm in the pot. Shall I serve you a bowl?”
Stepmom was still the one who treated him best. Zhao Ran snapped out of his thoughts. “Okay.”
Pleased that he agreed, Zhou Yun stood up and walked into the kitchen, unaware that Zhao Ran behind her was eyeing her from head to toe.
The woman’s dress ended just at her calves, and as she moved, her smooth, slender lower legs were faintly revealed.
Zhao Ran’s mind suddenly flashed back to the scene he had witnessed the night before—the woman’s beautiful legs wrapped around a man’s waist and abdomen.
How would it feel to be entangled by those legs?
Zhao Ran licked his slightly dry lips.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice that Zhou Yun had already brought out a bowl of congee. She bent over slightly to place it in front of him.
From Zhao Ran’s angle, as the woman leaned forward, he caught a clear glimpse of her enticing cleavage.
Zhou Yun’s voice followed shortly after, “Xiao Ran, come, see how it looks.”
“Looks good,” Zhao Ran said, but his eyes never strayed from the woman in front of him.
The deep valley between her breasts made him want to tear her clothes open and explore further.