The child doesn't have it, but the house is very clean, with carpets laid out, so even barefoot he wouldn't feel cold. Mou Wen let him wear socks into the house.
Mou Xun ran joyfully towards home, continuously making "wah wah wah" sounds because everything at home particularly matched Xunxun's fantasy of home.
He ran out, his face flushed, sharing with Mou Wen, "Mom, there's a terrace garden, with flowers planted, and lots of oil paintings on the corridor."
With the son's description, Mou Wen's heart hurt more and more, as if something was twisting her, almost crushing her.
"Not feeling well?"
Bo Zhi, who had been observing her expression, hastily asked.
Mou Wen shook her head, "No."
Bo Zhi responded with a hum, without saying anything more. He bent down, picked up the child who was hugging Mou Wen's leg, "I prepared a room for you."
