The Fake Heiress Wins the World Over with Her Cooking

I crouched on the ground, a shard of broken porcelain cutting a gash in my finger. A bead of blood welled up and dripped onto a fragment of the blue-and-white bowl. It was the bowl my adoptive mother, Qian Yufen, had specially taken me to the provincial capital to choose for my sixteenth birthday. She had said, "Nannan, this bowl suits you. It's precious." Now that "precious" bowl lay shattered all over the floor. Qian Yufen's voice was shrill, like fingernails scraping frosted glass. "Get out! Take all your worthless junk and get out of my house this instant! You took Mingyue's place in this family for sixteen years. How dare you cry?" The shards were icy against my palm. Just now, she had personally smashed this bowl