When Hua Nongying opened her eyes, it was not yet bright outside the window.
He glanced sideways at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was five-fifty-eight, two minutes earlier than the alarm clock. This biological clock seemed to have been set so accurately that since the day Hua Xiaomeng was brought back from the orphanage three years ago, he had never had a lazy sleep.
Get out of bed gently so as not to wake up the little ancestor next door. Hua Nongying put on her slippers, scratched her messy hair, and wandered towards the kitchen. There is a crayon drawing by Xiaomeng on the refrigerator door. It shows a crooked adult holding an even crooked child, and it says "Dad and Me" on it. It's been almost half a year since the painting was posted, and the corners are a little curled, so he hasn't been willing to replace it.
When I opened the refrigerator, there were not many things left: half a carrot, two eggs, a pile of cold rice, and the leftover ham sausage from last night. Hua Nongying took a look and figured it out in her mind - make two cartoon rice balls to make Xiaomeng happy, and then send her to the kindergarten smoothly.
When he put on his apron, he was still thinking that when he was playing professionally, he never thought he would be where he is today. At that time, his hand speed was more than 300, his monthly income was six figures, fans called him "Flower God", and the girls in the live broadcast room were so overwhelmed with gifts. What now? His hand speed is probably enough to pinch a rice ball, and his monthly income depends entirely on a power-training contract from a game studio. He only has one fan left, a five-year-old who wants to hug him every day.
But whether you think it's strange or not, he's really quite content.
