Following Song Qingyi's lead, Shen Lang took a tour of the Song family manor before entering the villa with her.
The villa, though possibly unoccupied for years, was meticulously maintained and spotlessly clean.
Upon entering, a meal was already laid out on the dining table: a pot of pickled fish soup, a whole roasted lamb, three Australian lobsters weighing at least four pounds each, and two large platters of steamed hairy crabs.
"Shen Lang, please sit."
After Shen Lang entered, Song Qingyi pulled out a chair for him and began serving him rice, filling a large bowl.
"Thank you, Mom—"
Shen Lang accepted the bowl with both hands and prepared to see if there was anything he could help with. He found, however, that everything in the house had been tidied and organized by Song Qingyi.
After serving Shen Lang a bowl of rice, Song Qingyi served herself and then sat down, immediately placing a fish head in Shen Lang's bowl.
"Shen Lang, this is your first time home, eat more."
Song Qingyi smiled, "Mom doesn't know what you like, so I made a bit of everything. Tell me if there's anything you particularly enjoy, and I'll make it for you next time."
"Mom, it's enough. I've never seen such a lavish spread."
Shen Lang looked at Song Qingyi and chuckled, "I'm a country bumpkin, I can eat a lot. Please don't laugh at my table manners later."
"I won't, because no one's table manners are more frightening than your uncle's."
Song Qingyi said with a smile.
Upon hearing Song Qingyi's words, Shen Lang paused for a moment, then understood what she meant by "table manners."
As soon as Song Shadao sat down, he placed a large platter in front of himself. Then, picking up a carving knife, he cut off a massive lamb shank and placed it before him.
Without a word, Song Shadao grabbed the dozen-pound lamb shank and began to gnaw on it.
At this moment, Song Shadao was like a wild beast, his eating habits likely to shock many.
Seeing this, Shen Lang understood why Song Qingyi hadn't taken his words to heart. While his own table manners weren't perfect, compared to Song Shadao, he was practically a gentleman.
Song Shadao tore into the lamb shank with gusto, his mouth glistening with grease. In less than ten minutes, the lamb shank was stripped completely clean.
Song Shadao tossed the bare lamb bone into the trash and then picked up an Australian lobster to peel.
He finished a four-pound Australian lobster in less than three minutes.
While Shen Lang stared in disbelief, Song Shadao picked up a bowl of white rice and ate it with a spoon, leaving not a single grain behind.
Finally, after a large bowl of soup, Song Shadao contentedly put down his bowl, stretched, and said to Song Qingyi and Shen Lang with a smile, "The meal today was excellent. I'm full, you two continue."
"Uncle, you have a great appetite. I'm impressed, truly impressed."
Shen Lang was also a big eater, able to consume five or six bowls of rice and clear three or four dishes in a single meal. However, compared to Song Shadao's astonishing capacity, he realized he was still far inferior and offered his genuine compliment from the bottom of his heart.
"Haha, I can't anymore. I'm getting old, my digestive system isn't as strong as it used to be."
Song Shadao looked at the roasted lamb on the table with some dissatisfaction and said, "If I were still in my early twenties, I could have finished this entire roasted lamb by myself. Time spares no one."
"Is eating a lot something to be proud of?"
Hearing Song Shadao's words, Song Qingyi retorted, "Showing off your youthful appetite, aren't you ashamed?"
"I was just remarking, is that not allowed?"
Song Shadao doted on his sister to an extreme. Hearing her displeasure, he immediately changed his tune and said helplessly, "If you're unhappy, then I won't mention it around you anymore."
"However..."
Song Shadao smiled, "Qingyi, your son's appetite is definitely not small. If you're as strict with him as you are with me, you might starve him."
"Nonsense, how could I starve my son?"
Shen Lang was six feet tall, his build as robust as a small mountain, yet his face was fair and flawless, as if he had been bathed in milk since childhood.
With a strong physique and handsome features, Song Qingyi was completely satisfied as she looked at her son.
What satisfied Song Qingyi the most, however, were Shen Lang's eyes.
Shen Lang's pupils were as dark as ink, his gaze sharp and penetrating, as if nothing in the world could escape his notice.
Although the results were not yet in, Song Qingyi was absolutely certain that this was her Xiao Qi.
During the meal, Shen Lang ate six bowls of rice, finished two-thirds of the large pot of pickled fish soup, consumed seven or eight hairy crabs and one Australian lobster, and finally, still hungry, had another two pounds of roasted lamb.
However, with Song Shadao's terrifying appetite as a benchmark, what Shen Lang ate seemed insignificant in Song Qingyi's eyes.
After lunch, Song Qingyi intended to clear the table, but Shen Lang stopped her.
Song Qingyi was a person of status and influence. It was already a great honor for Shen Lang that she had cooked for him, and he couldn't possibly allow her to work further.
Therefore, Shen Lang cleared the table himself, washed all the dishes and chopsticks until they were sparkling clean, and even gave the kitchen a thorough cleaning.
When Shen Lang emerged from the kitchen, Song Qingyi had already prepared a fruit platter and said to him, "Son, you must be tired. Have some fruit."
"Thank you, Mom—"
Shen Lang said gratefully, then plucked a green grape from the platter and popped it into his mouth.
Afterward, Shen Lang, Song Qingyi, and Song Shadao sat on the sofa and chatted.
From their conversation, Song Qingyi learned that Shen Lang had been begging in Nanling since he was six, enduring constant bullying. It wasn't until he was nine that he met a master who took him as a disciple, though he still endured immense hardship.
Thinking of the suffering her son had endured over the years, Song Qingyi's heart ached, but she dared not weep for fear of alerting Shen Lang.
Shen Lang also knew that in the years Song Qingyi had lost her own son, she had lived a life more painful than most people could imagine, a life that could be described as mere existence.
For some reason, Shen Lang seemed to understand Song Qingyi's pain deeply, as if there was a true connection between them.
After chatting for four or five hours, Shen Lang left the Song family manor at four in the afternoon.
Although Song Qingyi was reluctant to see Shen Lang leave, she couldn't help it. At least until the results were out, some pain had to be endured.
After leaving the Song family manor, Shen Lang got into his car and prepared to drive back the way he came.
However, less than five minutes after leaving the manor, his phone rang.
Shen Lang answered and found that the person on the other end was Lin Danqing.
"Hello, Mr. Shen. I heard from Yu Xiao and the others that you've returned from Shuzhong. I beg you, please save my niece. She's dying."