Provided that he did not get poisoned by her cooking, the boy liked everything his mother personally cooked!
He refused nothing.
She had also prepared Mu Yazhe's share. Sitting in front of the table, the man sampled her cooking.
His brows wrinkled.
The craftsmanship this time obviously did not appeal to his taste.
Moreover, too much salt was put in the soup, so his throat felt a little parched just from tasting it.
There was a clear drop in standard.
What he did not know was that, that one time he tried her noodles, it was her best standard thus far!
Noticing his frown, she nervously asked, "What's the matter? It doesn't taste good."
He put down his chopsticks. Just as he opened his mouth to give a review, he keenly felt a pair of prickling eyes staring at him with warning.
He followed his feeling and saw the boy clenching his chopsticks with his thorn-like gaze on him. The warning look in the boy's eyes hinted to him that the latter would only accept five-star reviews, and all negative reviews would be rejected pronto!
If you can, then you do it; if not, then don't be so pesky.
It seemed that, if he uttered any negative review of this bowl of noodles, the little guy would bomb the headquarters of the Mu Group out of rage in the ensuing second.
He was a wholly crazy defender of his mommy.
Under his son's gaze, he cleared his throat and praised her against his will. "Yes, its taste isn't bad!"
Only then was the little lad pacified.
She raised a brow in surprise. "Really?"
"It's… truly delicious."
The boy chimed in. "My mommy has the standard of a five-star chef!"
The man's mouth twitched.
What an exaggeration.
If such standard was at the level of a five-star chef, then all the hotels under the Mu Group's management could stop doing business!
Sensing his thoughts, the little lad's frosty eyes pierced him again.
He appeared to be asking, 'What? Did you not agree?'
Mu Yazhe steeled his heart, clenched his teeth, and forced himself to polish off that bowl of noodles.
On Yun Tianyou's part, with his drooping lashes, be it his posture or movement, the boy exuded extreme elegance just like a little young master. It was as if he were eating a high-class Western restaurant's specialty instead of a bowl of home-cooked noodle soup.
He possessed an innate, aristocratic temperament.
Just him eating a bowl of noodles could showcase his classiness. He was indeed no average person.
Seeing the man finish every bit of the noodle soup, her heart sparked with joy. "Does it truly taste awesome?"
"Awesome," he grudgingly complimented again.
He then retrieved his pocket square and carefully wiped the corner of his lips.
"In our house, Youyou's cooking is the best. Try it next time if there's a chance."
The boy cutely quipped, "Youyou only cooks for mommy!"
He sent the man a fleeting look of disdain.
He seemed to say, 'Give up. I only cook for mommy; I won't ever cook for you.'
He was too biased.
The man protested with his eyes.
The boy's eyes countered that with a blank look, neither accepting nor rejecting.
The protest was invalid!
Both mutely clashed with each other through their eyes.
She was confused by this.
Alas, she could not fathom the meaning behind their eye interaction.
This probably was the special telepathy between father and son.
This incident irked the boy immensely as he thought that he had suffered a great loss.
He actually let this man lead him by the nose!
Hence, when the man went to his company the following day, he immediately noticed the strange atmosphere within.