"Mrs. Wen," Mu Xiaojiu's fingertips tensed slightly, something seemed to pass through the depths of his eyes.
A trace of urgency did not escape Wen Yu's notice. Glaring at him, she wanted to be angry, but every time she looked at him, she found she couldn't muster the anger.
Eventually, she sighed softly and reached out to ruffle his hair.
"You're the child I watched grow up. I care for you as if you were my own. How could I bear to see you suffer the slightest grievance?"
"But you know, if he finds out about this, he will be very angry. Do you really want to anger him to death?"
"I wouldn't dare," Mu Xiaojiu hurriedly said in a soft voice.
"Don't talk anymore. Your voice sounds as if it has been scorched by fire. Isn't it painful for you to keep speaking?" Wen Yu sighed again and took out her phone to dial a number.
