After sorting the vegetables, fruits, and meats, Ningning put them neatly in place, washed the pot, plugged it in to cook rice, and finally walked out. With an impeccably elegant smile, he blinked and said solemnly, "Who said I picked up money? These were gifts from the girls at school."
"What did you do to make them give you all this?"
Ugh, son—of all things to inherit from your father, this is what you picked up? That hopelessly flirtatious nature? Seriously? Could being a Casanova actually be genetic?
Or is it that a show-off must be trained from childhood?
"I have no idea either!" Ningning looked completely innocent. "They all said my smile is charming and gave me these to show they're interested in me."
Kids these days are hitting puberty way too early!
"Haven't I told you not to smile at people for no reason? When the day comes that we can't make ends meet, then I'll let you sell your smile."
Ningning: "…"
"Also, your smile is only worth this much? That's way too cheap." Cheng Anya tilted her head, thought for a moment, and suddenly her eyes lit up. "Next time, get them to give you a blank check—that's what I call value. Got it?"
"What if the check bounces?"
"You don't know how to investigate first?"
Ningning tilted his head and seriously thought it over, then nodded. "Makes sense. I'll try it next time."
"Good boy!" Cheng Anya patted his head with zen-like calm, not the least bit concerned that she was single-handedly destroying one of the nation's bright young flowers.
(Author's note: This mother-and-son pair is seriously twisted.)
"Ningning, Mommy wants to ask you something, okay?" Cheng Anya's face flushed slightly as she leaned in, wrapped her arms around his small body, and whispered, "Aren't you even a little curious about your biological father?"
Ningning's pretty little face was full of amusement. "Mommy, didn't you say Daddy was dead? You even said the grass on his grave was taller than me."
Far away, in a cold, mountaintop villa, Ye Third Young Master sneezed mid-meal.
Cheng Anya: "…"
When Ningning first became aware of the world, he had only asked once—why didn't he have a dad?
He was three then, attending preschool in England. There was a kid in his class who lived next door and used to call him a bastard with no father at school.
One time they got into a fight, and Ningning lost—came home with a huge bruise on his arm, crying, and asked her why he didn't have a dad.
Back then, Cheng Anya felt like a knife was twisting in her heart.