This was too considerate, so considerate that she couldn't adapt all at once, and she pushed away Ji Chicheng's hand. Ji Anning bent down and sat down beside him, reaching out to take the bowl from his hands.
But Ji Chicheng still held the spoon, very insistently following her lips, "No one has ever been treated like this, only you."
Ji Anning: "..."
This narcissism really leaves one... at a loss for words.
Having the proud Young Master Ji personally feed her made her wonder if her ancestors' graves were emitting green smoke.
Ji Chicheng kept talking and, ignoring Ji Anning's discomfort, persisted in prying her mouth open with the spoon.
Ji Anning was half-pushed, half-coaxed by him, and swallowed a spoonful of porridge, which had a bit of sugar added, sweet and spreading everywhere.
After swallowing the mouthful of porridge, she still felt a lingering taste and pursed her lips, savoring it.