"He's not home right now, is there something you need from her?"
Then Xizeer slipped past the woman and went inside.
The woman quickly said, "Little boy, you..."
Xizeer: "I'm the son of his friend."
He glanced around the room with no reservations. The house wasn't large, over a hundred square meters, simply decorated, yet it had an artistic touch. On the table was a black porcelain vase with two daisies in it, a smell wafted from the kitchen, probably a rib soup cooking, the living room was very tidy, and the child's toys were orderly arranged.
Xizeer looked around and said, "Your soup."
The woman let out an "ah" and rushed to the kitchen.
Xizeer turned and pushed open the bedroom door.
When the woman came out of the kitchen, Xizeer was ready to leave.
The woman looked at Xizeer, feeling he was a bit peculiar: "That, you..."
This child, since entering, was as if he were in his own home, utterly unreserved.
