"That's it. Go ahead and try."
"It's delicious." He praised sincerely, "Qingyue, the dishes you make really have a perfect balance of color, aroma, and flavor."
"Of course it's delicious." She wasn't embarrassed by the compliment and casually said, "There aren't many seasonings at home. Later when I've made some money, I'll buy a lot of seasonings, and the dishes I make will be even more delicious."
A shadow of sadness flitted across his face. His wife talked about her earning money, but he, a big man, could no longer make money, which made him feel very frustrated.
Su Qingyue realized that she had said the wrong thing just now, "I didn't mean it. Qinghe, I absolutely didn't mean to belittle you."
He smiled, "Don't worry about it. I understand what you mean."