My godson’s biological mother is a mango lover. She picked up two big mangoes when she was grocery shopping that day and prepared to make a salad at noon. In fact, I had a history of allergies when I first ate mangoes in elementary school, so I have always refused to eat mangoes. At that time, I was working in the kitchen, cutting the remaining mango core and letting her chew the remaining pulp. As soon as she took the first bite, she was full of praise: It’s so sweet! So delicious! I was still sighing: Alas, my life is missing a big pleasure of food. When she arrived at the dining table, she took one bite and exclaimed: Ah, I haven't eaten such a sweet mango in a long time! So I couldn't hold it back. I took a spoon and took a bite. It was really delicious! But I gave up my desire to take a second spoonful in time. Later, she went to take a nap, and I came to clean up the dishes. There was still half a pot of mango that was not finished. Firstly, I didn’t want to waste it, and secondly, it was really delicious. I think it should be fine after not eating mangoes for so many years. So I wiped out all the remaining mangoes and went to wash the dishes with satisfaction. Hey, the result of eating secretly is retribution. When I woke up on the second day, half of my face was allergic, and on the third day, my whole face looked like Gao Xiaosong.