As the room door closed, the deepest dark undertones hidden within his placid and deep eyes began to surge.
...
New Zealand.
At eight in the morning, the soft sunlight filtered through the tree shadows into the room, warm and beautiful.
The phone on the table vibrated, and Shen Zhimei instinctively looked over, but the glare prevented her from seeing anything.
But as she was nestled on the sofa feeding her daughter, it was really inconvenient to move. "Third Brother, your phone is ringing."
During breakfast, Jiashu had spilled milk all over himself, and although Nan Ze was helpless yet serious, he still took his son to the bathroom for a bath after returning to the room.
Nan Ze was cold on the outside and just as cold inside; all his patience was exhausted during the ten years he waited for Shen Zhimei.
Even his own son didn't receive a bit of it.
