Transmigration: The Little Chef Calls The Shots

Lin Yuan sneered at the coordinated performance between the master and servant, saying, "Mother Li, what you said isn’t entirely correct. In fact, our family had already severed ties with them even before Lin Siyu entered the Li Mansion. Isn’t Mother Li’s niece my former third aunt? Didn’t she tell you?"

Mother Li was momentarily choked by her words and coughed, "Oh, yes, there’s already no relation."

Lady Jin glanced at Mother Li, who gave a sheepish smile and very consciously stepped aside.

While they were talking, the curtain at the doorway was lifted, and the first to enter was Lin Siyu, her hands cradling a brazier and dressed in the thickest clothing. Although the coldest season had not yet arrived, she was already wrapped up like a rice dumpling.

Lin Yuan couldn’t help but ridicule inwardly. Back when she was at the Lin family hollow, let alone in this kind of weather, even when heavy snow had frozen the ground three feet deep, Lin Siyu never wore clothes this thick, nor did she affect such airs, carrying a brazier everywhere she went.

Following Lin Siyu was a gentle-looking woman dressed in light purple, who, compared to Lin Siyu’s arrogance, appeared much softer.

Lin Yuan glanced at the woman and felt all she saw was worry in her expression. Those tightly knitted brows seemed etched on her face, as if they could never be smoothed out.