Wen Zhan had intended to suggest she make something for him, but when he saw that she was still holding their daughter in her arms, the words died on his lips, not having the heart to say it.
The atmosphere froze awkwardly, thankfully the little fellow in his arms was restless—probably eyeing the food greedily—and kept reaching for the table, crying out "ah ah ah" eagerly.
"What are you yelling for, that's not for you to eat," Wen Zhan scolded his son without much patience, seizing the opportunity to sit down.
No sooner had he sat down than the little tyke plunged his hand into the lunchbox, prompting Wen Zhan to quickly intervene, "You can't eat this! You're too small!"
"@##\$%...&*" The brother wasn't having it and immediately protested in his baby language, stubbornly trying to feed the rice that clung to his little paws into his mouth, his tiny lips pouting far out in an attempt to reach it.
"You can't eat it!" Wen Zhan frowned deeply.