The lunchbox wasn't big, but it was very delicate.
There wasn't much food inside—just some stir-fried beef tripe, rib soup, corn salad, and a simple stir-fried vegetable dish.
But if you opened the lid, the aroma of the dishes would waft out, filling the entire cabin.
This was the most meticulous cooking Qin Hao had ever done in his life.
So as not to wake the girls, he specifically rented a kitchen outside.
After he finished cooking and worried the food might go cold, he quickly bought a plane ticket and rushed to Heng Electric.
The plane flew for about an hour in boredom.
Qin Hao was dozing when he overheard the passenger next to him say, "This year's box office and domestic film quality are both in a slump."
"Director Li, it's a slump because you haven't come out of retirement!" came a sweet, smooth voice.
Sitting in economy class, Qin Hao's side had two seats.
He turned to see an elderly man with white hair and an old-fashioned suit holding a newspaper, sighing.
