Chapter 93

At that moment, the Mu Family Head suddenly had a very bad feeling in his gut. Afraid that his premonition would come true, he stood up, trying to pull Ji An over to his side.

Ji An wasn’t on guard at all and staggered when he was yanked.

“Get your filthy paws off my son!”

Ji Chenbiao couldn’t be bothered to keep up the act anymore. He reached out to block the man’s attempt to touch his son and barked harshly to stop him.

Didn’t he see how his son was nearly pulled off his feet? Just because the boy didn’t grow up by his side, he didn’t feel even a hint of guilt? No wonder the kid didn’t like him.

After holding it in for so long, Ji Chenbiao could finally drop the act. He felt like he was finally breathing freely again.

He never needed to put up with this guy’s crap in the first place! When this man used to boast in front of him about how close he and his son were, he’d felt annoyed deep down.

“Dadan, come sit with your dad over here.”

Ji An looked like a little puppy who had just been called. He scampered happily back to Ji Chenbiao’s side, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

“Coming!”

He was sick of pretending, especially whenever he had to watch that guy act like a loving father. It was revolting.

“You, what is the meaning of this?”

The Mu Family Head felt dizzy, sensing that things were not developing as he had expected—far from it, in fact, they were going completely in the opposite direction.

He had never taken such a hard fall before. Now it was dawning on him that these two had set him up together.

And thinking about all the money he spent earlier to pave the way and expand the scope of this venture—he was overwhelmed, his blood boiling.

“I’m your biological father, for heaven’s sake!”

Aside from that, even the Mu Family Head himself couldn’t think of any other way to get out of the current mess, so he clung to this pathetic justification as his last hope.

“Biological father? You mean the one who personally killed my mother?”

Ji An didn’t bother hiding his disgust this time—he even came right out and said the reason.

When the Mu Family Head met that resentful gaze of his, he was so startled he instinctively took a half step back.

“You… what are you saying?”

Back then, he didn’t feel like he’d done anything wrong. Even now that Ji An had found out, he only regretted not tying up loose ends better.

If he could do it over, he would’ve covered everything up thoroughly—never letting the kid find out the truth.

“Even if I did wrong by your mother, I’m still your father!”

“My dad is sitting right next to me.”

As he spoke, Ji An turned his head to glance at Ji Chenbiao. The fact that he acknowledged him without a shred of hesitation made Ji Chenbiao feel genuinely warm inside.

“You deliberately teamed up with this outsider to screw over your real father?”

The Mu Family Head’s eyes were bloodshot with rage. He looked like he wanted to lunge forward and strangle this rebellious child.

Ji Chenbiao might not be the best in every area, but when it came to strength, few could rival him. He immediately shielded Dadan behind him and shoved the Mu Family Head to the ground.

“Relax. So you’ve got a cash flow problem? It’s not the end of the world.”

The Mu Family Head was so furious his breath came in ragged gasps. He glared at Ji Chenbiao like he wanted to rip him apart. If looks could kill, Ji Chenbiao would’ve been minced by now.

He knew very well—Ji Chenbiao wasn’t an amateur. There was no way he didn’t understand how devastating a broken capital chain could be.

If the other prominent families in Myanmar caught wind of this, they’d swarm like wild dogs smelling fresh meat, eager to tear him apart.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say: if this news got out today, the Mu Family might cease to exist tomorrow.

“Don’t worry. As long as I’m around, I won’t let them get their way.”

Had Ji Chenbiao said that earlier, the Mu Family Head might’ve believed him. But now that he’d just shown his true colors, his words only deepened the Mu Family Head’s sense of dread.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, if someone’s going to benefit from your loss, it might as well be us. Like you said before, we’re all one big family, aren’t we?”

The Mu Family Head had, indeed, said something like that before—using Dadan as a bridge to build ties between their families, even claiming they were practically one family.

But that only made sense under the assumption that they would be swallowing up Ji Chenbiao’s assets.

Now that Ji Chenbiao had flipped the script, the Mu Family Head nearly died of rage.

“You—Ji An! Are you really going to stand by and watch your adoptive father swallow up your biological father’s fortune? Don’t you have a conscience?!”

Ji An actually thought he made a fair point. So he simply covered his eyes with one hand, then gave a small wave with the other, signaling his dad to go ahead and speed things up.

“Well, if I do this, I guess it doesn’t count as ‘standing by and watching,’ right?”

“Right, no problem.”

Ji Chenbiao could barely suppress a smirk as he threw the proposal that Mu Family Head’s assistant had given him right onto the floor in front of him.

Back then, the Mu Family Head didn’t want to leave a paper trail, so instead of a contract, he gave him a “proposal.” He thought he had Ji An wrapped around his finger and didn’t even bother finalizing the agreement—completely arrogant.

But now, that unfinished contract gave Ji Chenbiao all the room he needed to act freely and do things his own way.

Refusing to sign an obviously unequal deal? No one could fault him for that. If anything, it was the Mu Family Head’s own greed that brought this upon him.

The Mu Family Head had only imagined how much profit this partnership would bring once it was all in place. He never considered the possibility that Ji Chenbiao might walk away.

After all, he could see how much Ji Chenbiao cared about the kid. He figured if he could control the boy, Ji Chenbiao would follow along no matter what.

Aristocratic families had flourished in Myanmar for too long, and the Mu Family had been riding high for too long. Just a single setback, and it all came crashing down.

Or maybe it was because that boy had never truly seen himself as one of the Mu family. Watching him happily walk away alongside Ji Chenbiao, the Mu Family Head coughed up blood from sheer anger.

This time, with the entire Mu Family’s assets tied up in this mess, making a comeback would be nearly impossible—unless they could find another sucker like Ji Chenbiao had been.

Once in the car, Ji An felt an immense sense of relief and joy. He kicked up one leg and lounged smugly. Seeing how pleased he was, Ji Chenbiao’s mood also brightened. He couldn’t help but ask:

“You’re really this happy?”

“Of course I’m happy. The Mu family was like a big, fancy graveyard. I couldn’t even breathe in there—it was just suffocating.”

As he spoke, Ji An patted his chest lightly, as if trying to ease the lingering discomfort, using every fiber of his being to express how miserable he’d felt.

“Enough with the graveyard talk—it’s bad luck. Don’t say things like that again.”

“Once all this is wrapped up, you’ll be heading back for school. Don’t let all this mess affect your studies.”

Ji Chenbiao gave his usual fatherly reminder. Ji An didn’t show a trace of impatience. Instead, he nodded seriously, as if carving the words into his heart.

“Don’t worry, Dad. I definitely won’t let any of this mess mess up my schoolwork. When the semester ends, I’ll bring home a stack of awards for you!”

“Good. I’ll be waiting.”

Seeing his own child become successful, Ji Chenbiao was, of course, overjoyed. He gave his son’s head a firm rub.

Whether Dadan was merely drawing grand plans before achieving anything yet didn’t matter—at this very moment, hearing his son’s words made Ji Chenbiao truly happy.

Back at their small villa, Ji An took out the homework from his backpack, preparing to finish what he hadn’t completed during the holidays and preview some new material as well.

Uncle Zhou had once taught him that no matter what happens, he should never let others disrupt what he’s doing. He must stick to what he wants to do and move forward step by step—that’s the only way to go far.

Ji An had always kept those words close to his heart, and he followed them exactly.

No matter how much the head of the Mu family struggled and tried to cover up the truth, plenty of people still noticed something was wrong. This once-glorious old family in Myanmar collapsed with a crash.

A swarm of other old families in Myanmar rushed in, seemingly hoping to get a share of the spoils.

Unfortunately for them, someone else had acted faster. Mr. Zhou and Ji Chenbiao were the first to receive the news and had already made their preparations, ultimately benefiting the most from the Mu family’s downfall.

Especially Mr. Zhou—he managed to break into the Myanmar rough jade market, a door that had remained firmly shut to him until now. From that moment on, he would no longer be at the mercy of others when it came to raw jade.

By the time those other families realized something was off, it was already too late. The outcome was set in stone.

No matter how they struggled, they couldn’t change the fact that Mr. Zhou had successfully broken in.

Following Mr. Zhou, Ji Chenbiao also made quite a bit of profit.

Just as he had said to Mr. Zhou from the start, he had no lofty ambitions and didn’t expect to grow to that level. For him, it was enough to earn enough money to provide for his son. Any extra would go toward charity.

Whenever there was an opportunity, Ji Chenbiao was more than willing to speak up for women who, like his younger sister, had suffered injustice, and he was happy to provide financial support for their rights.

If Mr. Zhou had once been the best merchant in China’s jade market, then after this incident, he could easily rank among the top three jade merchants internationally.

The saying “when one person rises, even the chickens and dogs follow” held some truth here—even Mr. Zhou’s subordinates saw their status rise along with him.

The one who gained the most, though, was Ji Chenbiao. First, because he had partnered with Mr. Zhou in this endeavor, and second, because Mr. Zhou still remembered his kindness.

Ji An, however, knew little of all this business afterward. He became an outstanding student, just as his father had hoped.

Ji Chenbiao didn’t want these matters to interfere with his son’s studies. In the end, he only mentioned it to Dadan when the Mu family patriarch was forced to jump to his death.

At that time, Dadan was in the kitchen following a teacher’s assignment—preparing dinner for his dad. He clumsily scored the chicken wings with a knife and poured in various seasonings for marination.

Upon hearing his dad bring it up, his hands paused. Then he lifted his lips and said:

“That’s a good thing.”

Ji An didn’t feel even a shred of pity for the head of the Mu family. Even without his dad explaining, he could guess that the suicide was related to the family’s downfall.

Back then, that man had killed Ji An’s biological mother over a baseless curse rumor, and had even abandoned Ji An in the snow on a freezing day.

Because of that, Ji An held no emotional attachment to him. Upon hearing of his death, all he felt was a satisfying sense of relief—nothing more.

Though the incident had happened quite a while ago, Ji Chenbiao was only now mentioning it, mainly because he had been worried Dadan couldn’t handle it.

While Ji Chenbiao’s thinking was actually quite open-minded, he cared deeply about his son. He was afraid this news might affect him.

What if Dadan only pretended not to care about that old Mu guy, just to fool him?

While the chicken wings were marinating, Ji An began preparing the other dishes. He always paid close attention to detail and strived to do things perfectly.

Once the fire was lit, he placed the chicken wings in the pan with chopsticks. Ji Chenbiao stood by the door, now too lazy to leave.

When Ji An finished the cola chicken wings and plated them beautifully, he handed a pair of chopsticks to his dad.

“Dad, try it.”

Without thinking, Ji Chenbiao reached for the piece in the middle, but Ji An quickly stopped him, having anticipated his dad’s move.

“That one on the side—I saved that for you. Don’t touch the others yet. I still need to take pictures for the assignment later.”

Though Ji Chenbiao now held a respectable position, in front of his son, he didn’t dare say a word. Ji An told him which piece to eat, and that’s exactly what he ate.

After tasting it, he gave Ji An a thumbs-up.

“Not bad.”

During dinner, Ji Chenbiao casually brought up the Mu family matter again.

“You really don’t care at all about what happened to the Mu family?”

“Nope. Not one bit. I’m actually quite happy. Dad, stop dwelling on that. If I say I don’t care, I really don’t. He never treated me like a real son, so why should I treat him like a real father?”

Ji An tried a bite of his first-ever homemade meal. Aside from the meat being a bit roughly cut and the vegetables slightly burnt due to misjudging the heat, everything else turned out great.

“Try this one—I think it’s the tastiest dish I made!”

“Alright, go grab that bottle of wine I’ve been saving in the cabinet. It’s your first time cooking—we’ve got to celebrate properly.”

Ji An stood up at once, but then suddenly sensed something off and frowned.

“No way. The doctor said last month you can’t drink.”

Ji Chenbiao didn’t have any major issues—he just loved to drink. He wanted a glass with every meal, but now his son kept a tight rein on him.

Even when Ji An was at school, his assistant—under strict instructions from Ji An—kept an eye on him. Life was miserable.

“Just a couple glasses to celebrate—still no good?”

“Nope. The doctor said fruit wine only.”

Saying that, Ji An took out a bottle of plum wine and filled his dad’s glass.

The plum wine was sweet and fruity, barely different from juice. To someone like Ji Chenbiao, who was used to drinking sorghum liquor, it felt weak.

But looking at his son now, he could only comfort himself silently—at least he could still taste a little alcohol.

If nothing had happened, Ji Chenbiao would’ve been happy to get involved in Myanmar’s jade trade.

As the world’s largest rough jade producer, no jade merchant could resist the temptation—not even him.

But after learning that Dadan’s biological mother had died there, he rarely went again. Even when Mr. Zhou invited him and Dadan to go together, he usually found a way to decline.

After the Mu family fell, Ji Chenbiao finally found Dadan’s mother’s grave—an abandoned cemetery that had clearly been neglected for years.

He hired a well-known master to bring her ashes back to China, and selected a beautiful site for her final resting place.

From now on, whenever there’s a holiday, it would be easy for Dadan to visit.

The child might still be too young to think of all this, but as his father, Ji Chenbiao felt it was his duty to take care of what his son hadn’t thought of yet.

When Dadan was younger, he’d always said he wanted to become a civil servant. Ji Chenbiao once thought his son would really grow up to be a policeman.

But during a summer break in middle school, Dadan discovered jade carving—and from then on, there was no turning back.

Jade carvers are rare in the entire industry, especially those with real talent. Even in Mr. Zhou’s company, skilled jade carvers were hard to come by.

At the very beginning, Ji Chenbiao didn’t have much hope. He simply thought the kid was bored with studying and wanted to have some fun.

He prepared all the tools needed for learning jade carving for Dadan, never expecting him to actually make anything impressive.

Until one day, a jade carving master invited back by Mr. Zhou—a renowned figure even internationally—happened to see one of Dadan’s works: a peanut he had secretly carved.

Because of that peanut, Dadan, who had been pampered by his father since he was little, almost got a serious scolding.

Ji Chenbiao had painstakingly found a piece of top-quality imperial green jade, intending to gift it to a friend’s father as a birthday present. In the end, his son carved it into a peanut.

If it were a gift for newlyweds, a peanut would carry an auspicious meaning. But giving it to a seventy-year-old elder—what would be the point in wishing them more children?

No matter how furious he was, Ji Chenbiao had no choice but to find another piece of jade to substitute the gift. The peanut ended up in his office as a decorative piece.

“Which master carved this piece?”

The jade master stared at the peanut, recognizing it instantly, and Ji Chenbiao gave an awkward smile as he explained, “That was something my son casually carved in his spare time.”

Ji Chenbiao was stricter when teaching his son at home, but in front of outsiders, he was very mindful of protecting his son’s image. He didn’t say anything self-deprecating—just gave a simple explanation.

“It’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful!”

The jade master couldn’t help but applaud. Over the years, he had seen many works, but never had he encountered something so full of life and vitality as this peanut.

Jade carving isn’t a common craft—mainly because it’s extremely expensive to train a jade carver. Using high-grade jade as practice material costs a fortune.

And apprentices with true talent in jade carving are extremely rare.

The reason this jade master had gained such renown over the years was mostly because his works had soul.

In other words, his craftsmanship possessed a spirit—he could bring lifeless jade back to life. That lively essence was the most precious thing.

He had always been looking for an apprentice, but none had ever met his standards. No matter how praised or “talented” others were, they all seemed mediocre to him.

His expertise was unlike most others. While most focused on technique, he focused on spirit. That was why he was irreplaceable in the entire jade carving industry.

Naturally, when choosing a disciple, he wanted someone who shared his views. He’d searched for so long that he was getting old, yet still hadn’t found a worthy successor.

But when he saw that peanut, his eyes lit up like never before.

“Your son? How old is your son now?”

The master slowly calmed down. Though the peanut was beautiful, certain details still revealed some greenness—likely because no one had guided the maker.

“He’s in eighth grade.”

Ji Chenbiao was a bit baffled by the master’s excitement but answered truthfully.

“Eighth grade? Has he apprenticed under anyone?”

Given Dadan’s age, Ji Chenbiao still believed academics should be the priority. He thought carving was just a way to decompress under study pressure.

He never imagined his son could achieve anything significant through it.

“No.”

“Would he be interested in becoming my apprentice?”

Ji Chenbiao had heard from Mr. Zhou that the jade master had long been seeking a student. Mr. Zhou even wanted to send his own son, but the master wasn’t impressed.

“This… really? He can?”

The surprise dropped on Ji Chenbiao like a bombshell, and he was at a loss for what to do.

“Of course! When would your son be free to formally serve his master tea?”

In the jade carving world, most formalities could be skipped, but the tea ceremony for apprenticeship was non-negotiable.

Afraid of losing such a promising disciple, the master simply waved his hand and walked toward the door.

“Forget it, forget it. Where do you live? I’ll come to your house.”

Ji Chenbiao couldn’t even remember what they had originally come to discuss. He just focused on leading the way.

It happened to be a Saturday, and Dadan would be home from school that afternoon.

Knowing how much Dadan loved jade carving, Ji Chenbiao figured he’d be thrilled to have such a master.

After meeting the jade master, Dadan’s original path of preparing for a government job veered sharply in a different direction—so much so that even a herd of oxen couldn’t pull him back.

At first, Ji Chenbiao was worried, but when he saw it didn’t affect Dadan’s studies, he let it be.

Dadan had always performed slightly above average—pretty good in a school full of elite students. Ji Chenbiao himself never liked studying much, so he didn’t set high expectations for his son.

For the high school entrance exam, Dadan was well-prepared and lucky, scoring excellently. After entering high school, he began to focus more on academics and eventually got accepted into a top university in Haicheng.

When Ji Chenbiao found out, he was so overjoyed he threw a banquet with over ten tables at the city’s biggest hotel to thank all the teachers—even Dadan’s kindergarten teachers were invited.

After that, he hosted another celebration back in their hometown. With the new roads and a factory now built, the village had successfully lifted itself out of poverty.

Anyone in the village with a shred of conscience remembered the favor Ji Chenbiao had done for them.

Even though he rarely returned home, his parents’ and sister’s graves were always clean, and during festivals, someone would always go and burn paper offerings for them.

The Wang family had just finished proudly celebrating their grandson’s acceptance into a first-tier university, only for Ji Chenbiao to return with his son and an even more impressive announcement: acceptance into one of the top universities in the country.

Ji Chenbiao was glowing with pride, so much so that even the Wangs seemed more pleasant to him.

He brought Dadan to his parents’ and sister’s graves, knelt, and shared the good news with them too.

After graduating from university, Ji An didn’t go on to graduate school. Instead, he focused entirely on learning jade carving from his master. With great talent, he caught up to his teacher’s skill level in just two years.

Mr. Zhou had only ever seen him as a kid he watched grow up—never expected him to become this capable.

After officially completing his apprenticeship, Ji An either accompanied his master to certain events or stayed focused in his own workshop.

He had a knack for picking raw jade stones, often able to spot the ones with hidden jade among a pile. Once found, he would start carving immediately. His works at auctions now sold for prices comparable to his master’s.

Ji Chenbiao wasn’t very ambitious—he just wanted a stable life. At forty, he married a divorced woman who had suffered domestic abuse.

She wasn’t traditionally pretty, but she worked for a state-owned enterprise with decent benefits. She had a bold personality and came across as very forthright.

After confirming the relationship, Ji Chenbiao especially called Ji An home. This time, Ji An didn’t stop his father from drinking.

Watching them interact at the dinner table, Ji An felt a weight lift off his chest—someone would finally help keep an eye on his dad’s health.

Perhaps because of his job, Ji An wasn’t fond of socializing. He spent most of his time in his studio.

As a middle-aged father, Ji Chenbiao began worrying about his son’s marital future and started arranging blind dates—until his wife talked him out of it.

“Children and grandchildren have their own blessings. Let them enjoy their own fortune.”

That kid Dadan clearly didn’t have any such intentions. If he were forced to do something against his will, he would definitely get upset and refuse to come home out of spite.

Thinking it over carefully, Ji Chenbiao had to admit that it made sense. It really wouldn’t be worth it to scare his son into not wanting to come home just because of something that hadn’t even happened yet.

In the end, it was only because he cared too much about his child that he kept backing down and compromising.

His father had always been in good health and had a habit of getting regular checkups. Ji An had never had to worry about this, and sometimes he even thought that maybe, someday, he’d get to throw his dad a hundredth birthday banquet.

But while attending an event abroad one time, he suddenly received a call from Aunt Tan. She said his dad had gone out for a walk that morning and accidentally fell. By the time they got him to the hospital, he was already on the brink.

Ji An immediately dropped everything and rushed back home on a private jet. While waiting for approval at customs, he sat there with cold sweat running down his forehead.

By the time he arrived at the hospital, his father was lying in bed wearing a respirator, looking frighteningly weak.

The doctor said there was nothing more they could do. He was only still holding on because there was something on his mind he couldn’t let go of.

When Ji An rushed to his bedside and held one of his father’s hands, the other hand was suspended in the air. It gently patted Ji An’s head before dropping, lifeless, to the bed.

The machines in the hospital room began to sound alarms. Tears blurred Ji An’s vision, and it felt like all the strength had been drained from his limbs. He could only sit there in a daze on the cold hospital floor.

He didn’t have a dad anymore?

That fact hit Dadan like a sledgehammer, leaving him stunned. On the other side, Aunt Tan was weeping uncontrollably.

The two people closest to the deceased were both too devastated to handle the arrangements. In the end, it was Mr. Zhou’s son who stepped in to take charge. Throughout the entire funeral, Ji An felt like he was drifting in a fog.

Sometimes he even wondered if it had all just been a dream—one he’d eventually wake up from, and nothing would have really happened.

It wasn’t until the funeral was over and Ji An returned home, seeing the chef preparing dinner, that he instinctively reminded, “Don’t use too much chili, Dad can’t eat it,” and then froze in place.

His eyes were dry, unable to cry, but the pain in his chest seemed to multiply with no end.

At night, Ji An would keep thinking to remind his dad to take his medicine—only to realize he was gone. Then he would toss and turn, unable to sleep.

It took nearly half a year for Ji An to gradually emerge from the grief of losing his father.

He threw himself almost entirely into work, only occasionally returning to visit Aunt Tan.

Aunt Tan had a daughter around his age. The two would take turns visiting, so the elder wouldn’t feel too lonely.

Ji An stayed disciplined with exercise. In middle age, he took on two disciples to pass on his skills. In old age, he enjoyed peaceful retirement. Though he never married, his apprentices often came by to visit, so he was never truly alone.

Even when his hair turned completely white and he needed a cane to get around, he would still visit the cemetery every month to clean the dust from his father’s gravestone.

When the mission ended and he returned to the system space, the elderly man, once hunched and weary, transformed as his memories were cleared—returning to the appearance he had when the system first met him: a child.

When he opened his eyes again, all that remained was curiosity about this new place.

“Where… where is this?”

The system, dressed in its new outfit, quietly appeared and explained where they were and what the next mission would be, not forgetting—as always—to offer temptation.

“In the mission world, you’ll have a father or mother who loves you very much.”

Xie Shi’an’s eyes went wide with tension. He mustered the courage to cautiously ask:

“Really?”

“Of course. As long as you’re willing to be good and complete the mission.”

Even though the system felt a little guilty for coaxing such a young child, it still said what it had to say.

Especially when it saw the nervous yet satisfied smile on Dadan’s little face—that guilt peaked.

Xie Shi’an sat on the little stool the system had prepared for him, his hands placed neatly on his knees as he tried hard to appear calm. But the way his feet kept tapping lightly on the ground betrayed his excitement.

“When can we go?”

After what he’d suffered from his birth parents, Xie Shi’an desperately longed for a mom or dad who would hold him.

“Right now.”

“Oh, okay.”

The system quickly sent An’an into the new mission world. As soon as he arrived, he felt teardrops land on his face. The wetness was a little uncomfortable, and he instinctively shifted to the side.

Bai Yiyi noticed the child’s discomfort and quickly wiped her tears and sniffled. Then she gently soothed him in a soft, warm voice:

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry Mommy made you uncomfortable. I won’t do that again, okay? Don’t cry.”

An’an blinked his big eyes and curiously stared at the woman. So this was his mother in this world?

Bai Yiyi gently patted An’an’s back and comforted him, occasionally pressing light kisses on the side of his face, her lips warm and dry.

He could also feel the slightly cold traces of her tears.

An’an’s eyes were wide open. The unfamiliar sensation made him instinctively want to touch the spot where she had kissed him. A soft gasp of wonder escaped his little mouth.

“Wow~”

Bai Yiyi’s heart, previously filled with sorrow, brightened a little at her son’s adorable reaction. She lowered her head to kiss him again.

“Sweetheart, Daddy will be home this afternoon. Are you happy?”

An’an babbled, unsure how to respond. But when he saw the tears still on his mother’s face, he figured she must be sad.

He reached out his little hand and waved it in the air. Bai Yiyi sensed what he meant, and when she leaned in, she felt her son using the back of his tiny hand to gently wipe away her tears.

After wiping, he even patted her shoulder with his small hand—clearly trying to comfort her.

Bai Yiyi’s lips curved into a gentle smile, and she gave him another soft kiss on his fluffy cheek.

Seeing her smile, An’an was delighted too. He giggled with satisfaction.

“Mommy knows, my sweetheart’s no fool. My sweetheart is very smart, right?”

An’an, waving his little hand in the air happily, froze at those words. Even the smile on his lips stiffened.

————Arc End————