The child is still crying.
The sound has turned into a hissing noise, like a giant serpent flicking its tongue.
Yet even so, his hand still reached out hard in the direction of Jiang Yingying.
A trace of reluctance flashed in Zhu Biao's eyes as he glanced at Jiang Yingying, his mouth moved, but in the end, he said nothing.
If he asked Jiang Yingying to hold the child, it would be too inappropriate.
He dropped his eyes and reprimanded Lianlian, "What nonsense are you talking about? You take care of your own child. Quick, take Shengsheng to the carriage, and let's go back home!"
Lianlian, with tears streaming down her face, staggered to her feet and responded with a yes.
The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patches on her, the tear stains on her face reflecting a faint glow, making her seem enveloped in a maternal radiance, extraordinarily pitiable.
