I Transmigrated as the Male Lead’s Grandmother

I, at the age of seventy, transmigrated into the body of the male lead’s evil grandmother in a tragic novel.

The system said, “You must follow the plot.”

I put on my reading glasses. “What do you mean by ‘follow the plot’?”

The system hesitated. “Uh… it means you have to ab*se him. Right now, throw the stool at his face! Tell him to get lost!”

I averted my gaze.

At this moment, the male lead was still a half-grown teenager, skinny as a stalk of wheat, dressed in thin, shabby clothes, glaring at me with hatred in his eyes.

I turned around and walked into the kitchen.

The male lead gritted his teeth. “Are you going to grab a knife and kill me!?”

“You old hag, I’ll take you down with me!”

“You’re too skinny,” I sighed, expertly lighting the stove. “Let me make you something to eat.”

I’m a grandmother!

What kind of grandmother could possibly resist fattening up her grandson?