Mr. Bo is paranoid

Chapter 308

Wen Ruan has the keys to every room in the house.

But she respects the three children and is confident that she can educate them well, so she rarely interferes with the children's affairs.

Bao Simo didn't allow them to enter his bedroom, but she never did, and she didn't let the servants in to disturb the hygiene.

Lin Rong has always been in charge of the hygiene of that bedroom.

Wen Ruan opened the door with the key, and the bedroom was pitch black.

She turned on the light, and Bao Simo's bedroom was decorated in black and white in cool tones. It was lifeless and gave people a cold feeling. In the hot summer, it was somewhat cool.

Wen Ruan's eyes widened in disbelief, looking at the paintings hanging on the wall.

They are all in ancient costumes, and the same woman is of different ages.

But that face?Even if she had only seen it twice, she was very familiar with it.

At first!

how come?How did Simo know her?It was still the beginning of wearing ancient costumes.

Wen Ruan's fingers were trembling, she slowly stroked the nearest painting, there was a line of small words on the bottom left, with the date and time written.

Ten years ago, this painting was drawn by Si Mo ten years ago.

At that time, he was only 14 years old.

At that time, I was only eight years old at the beginning, but the girl in this painting looks about fifteen or sixteen years old.

Wen Ruan finished reading all the paintings, she didn't dare to move, she hurriedly turned off the lights, came out of the room, and hurriedly locked the door.

She put the key back in the drawer and stood there for a long time without moving.

At 09:30, Bo Zhengting came back.

Wen Ruan had already taken a shower, sat on the sofa and followed the drama, and asked absently, "Has Simo ever had a big change in temperament? He has been in a hurry since he was a child."

Her brother, sister-in-law and people around her said that she was born a genius, too smart and sensible, and they didn't let her worry about it.

When Bao Simo could talk, he didn't let her take a bath. He asked his father to wash him. If his father didn't have time, he asked the driver at home to wash him.

One year and two months old, he can walk steadily, and he has to do his own things, and he refuses to be fed by them. He eats well with chopsticks.

Bo Xiangsi, who was more than two years older than him, wanted her to chase after him with bowls and chopsticks and coax him to feed him, but this youngest son handled his own affairs neatly.

Bo Simo is two years old and already knows how to read.

They sent the child to kindergarten, but within a month, he refused to go and asked them for textbooks for the first and second grades.

Apart from being smart and sensible, he didn't behave abnormally.

She and Bo Zhengting only think of their youngest son as smart and with a high IQ.

In the past 24 years, the son has been like this, never letting them worry about it.

But what was going on with those paintings, she had read all of them, and naturally she also watched the day.

The first painting was drawn when he was five years old. The woman in the painting is Cardamom Nianhua. If you say it is Chu Shi, but Chu Shi was not born at that time, and she was still in ancient costume.

If not, that face is so similar, even the birthmark between the eyebrows is the same.

"What are you thinking about?" Bo Zhengting took the remote control and changed the channel, and tuned to the evening news: "Are you out of your mind? Someone bullied you?"

Wen Ruan came back to his senses: "Is Si Mo smart? I was just thinking, he has completed the studies that others should have completed in more than 20 years in his teens, and he still has good medical skills. When did he learn it?"

Bo Zhengting went over and put his arms around her: "Maybe he inherited some genes from his biological father, and he is also smart. Isn't that man a medical student?"

"But Si Mo is also good at drawing."

"The child has a talent for painting, shouldn't you be happy as a mother?"

Wen Ruan hesitated to speak, not knowing what to say.

(End of this chapter)