Little Qiao Zichen, with his soft white skin, lay on the hospital bed with his eyes closed, his long lashes like two little brushes, so delicate.
Lu Yiming left to handle the payments, while Qiao Mo stayed by Chenchen's side, watching his little face with worry.
A little over an hour later, Chenchen slowly opened his eyes, though his face was still a bit pale.
"Mama..."
Qiao Mo forced a smile, more painful than crying: "Mama is here."
Chenchen's voice was weak, watching the tears in Qiao Mo's eyes, he slowly lifted his little hand to wipe them: "Mama, don't cry, Chenchen won't cry either. Chenchen is not in pain, Chenchen is strong."
Qiao Mo nodded, choking up: "Yes... Chenchen is the strongest..."
Qiao Mo cut some fruit for him, but he was, after all, a child, couldn't eat much, so he asked her to tell him a story.
Qiao Mo lay down on the hospital bed with him, holding him and began to tell him a story.
"Today we will tell the story of 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs'..."
