At the same time, a large right hand gently reached out.
Puff!
This right hand blocked above the small fist.
The palm moved faster than lightning, grasping the little boy's fists.
And with a gentle force, it took hold of the child lightly and then set him down from the air.
Naturally, the owner of the hand was Jia Yan. At that moment, he looked at the child, held the little fists in his palm gently, set him down on the ground, and simply said, "Alright, it seems I have won. You won't be getting your sister's chocolate."
Jia Rong's eyes turned red. He knew the gap between himself and this man, who called himself his dad, was too vast—it really was just like an adult playing with a child.
"Why? I didn't bully you, yet you want to cry?" Jia Yan sighed with a bit of helplessness.
But these words seemed to have struck a nerve in the child, and his tears flowed uncontrollably.
"You bully Mom!" Jia Rong yelled out loud.
