Maybe I am Your Uncle?

Yan Qingsi noticed that Xia Anlan had not touched his food. "Please…eat," she said, scratching her head. "The food will turn cold."

 Xia Anlan nodded. "Okay…"

 Yan Qingsi watched as Xia Anlan took his first bite. She had practically never seen anyone appearing like a feast to the eyes with that posture of his.

 To her knowledge, those people appearing on television who constantly slaved for the country were like gods—they did not need to eat at all. Today, she finally saw one eating right in front of her eyes as they sat across each other.

 Yan Qingsi marveled at this, internally. It felt as though she had not woken up from a dream, watching the president eat.

 Not a single noise peeped out of Yan Qingsi while Xia Anlan ate.

 She waited for him to place his chopsticks down. Only then did she loosen a breath. She could ask her questions now.