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?