Someone cooks dinner for your son when you get home?
Xiao Jianming looked at the Jian Lan that his son had toyed with and faintly felt that his son seemed to have changed.
If it were like before, such words about coming home for dinner would definitely not have come out of Xiao Yebai's mouth.
There was no choice, with a house full of people, four daughters, and all married, the more people there were, the noisier it got. Not to mention his son didn't like coming home for dinner, he didn't enjoy it much either.
Now even his mother, Old Lady Xiao, often went out to have tea and find entertainment with old friends.
When Uncle Tang brought in the sorted files, he saw Xiao Jianming's thoughtful expression and said, "Chairman, about the reservation tonight at Dihao—"
His son liked the food at Dihao, so he had arranged the father-son dinner there.
"Forget it," Xiao Jianming waved his hand.
