Bo Jingshen's footsteps felt as heavy as a thousand pounds; he couldn't lift his feet. Su Lu's previous words were clearly not sharp, but to him, they were too cutting, precisely piercing through every inch of his wounds.
He remained silent, simply squatting down and wrapping the small body of the child in his arms.
Zhao Xiaole was stunned but soon became happy, also gently hugging Bo Jingshen.
"Baby, I'm not going to sit down inside. You be good, keep Mom company, and I'll come to see you often."
What a lovely child he was, sensitive and tender-hearted, seemingly quick to sense that Bo Jingshen's mood was off, thinking about how Su Xiaolu had said nothing before heading straight inside the house.
Zhao Xiaole thought for a moment, then put his arms around Bo Jingshen's neck, gently patting the back of his head. It seemed he found the touch of Bo Jingshen's crew cut oddly satisfying, so Zhao Xiaole felt it again.
Then he softly said, "Are you unhappy?"
