"Huwa, Huwa, it's time to eat."
"You little rascal, what are you doing outside in this cold weather? What are you eating?"
Sister Hua, holding a wooden spoon, came out from the kitchen, about to call Huwa to eat. She saw the little rascal standing in the courtyard, stuffing something into his mouth with both hands, his mouth rimmed with white crumbs. Her eyebrows raised as she approached, thinking the little brat was eating snow just for fun.
Instead, she saw Huwa with his cheeks puffed, pointing next door with his finger, mumbling unclearly,
"Xiao Song... Xu, gave it to me."
Saying this, he extended a small hand happily, "Mom, for you to eat!"
In that frostbitten red little hand lay half a piece of white pastry.
Sister Hua immediately picked up her son, tucking Huwa's two cold little hands into her bosom, her tone softening considerably, "Good son, you eat it yourself. By the way, where is your squirrel friend?"
