Shocking! A three-year-old brings his aloof mother to their door.

He Wanqing finally raised her head, her voice soft: "Anything is fine..."

"Anything will do," Jiang Hui waved her hand. "Your health is important; you need to nourish yourself. Auntie will make you some chicken soup and stir-fry some of your favorite dishes."

After she finished speaking, she went downstairs with a smile.

He Wanqing was left sitting on the sofa, her face still flushed, her hand still being held by Mo Ye.

Mo Ye leaned closer and whispered in her ear, "Mom is good to you, isn't she?"

He Wanqing glared at him, but didn't break free from his grasp.

After a while, she whispered, "...You mustn't do that again."

"What?"

"It was...while I was sleeping..."

Mo Ye smiled and pulled her into his arms: "Okay, I won't do it while you're sleeping anymore."

He Wanqing was stunned for a moment, then realized the loophole in his words, and angrily punched him: "You!"

Mo Ye laughed and dodged away, holding her even tighter.

He Wanqing was held tightly in his arms, and although she struggled, she couldn't break free.

"Let go of me right now," she said angrily, but there wasn't much real annoyance in her tone.

Mo Ye tapped his cheek with his finger and smiled, "Give me a kiss, and I'll let go."

He Wanqing glared at him, but still tilted her head back and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Okay, relax."

Mo Ye didn't move, and pointed to the other cheek.

Helpless, He Wanqing could only lean over and kiss him again.

After the kiss, she was about to speak when she saw Mo Ye change his expression again, still with that smiling look.

He Wanqing laughed in exasperation: "Are you playing with nesting dolls?"

Mo Ye persisted, leaning close to her ear and gently blowing a breath, his voice low and slightly coquettish: "Sister, can I have another kiss?"

That "sister" was called in a soft, sticky voice, like a kitten's paw scratching at the tip of my heart.

He Wanqing's ears went weak from his calling her name, and all the helplessness in her heart turned into doting affection.

She couldn't do anything with him, so she asked online – are all your husbands this childish?

But what can you do? You have to spoil them, they're the ones you chose.

She resigned herself to her fate and moved closer again.

Just as her lips were about to touch his cheek, Mo Ye suddenly turned his head to face the camera.

The next second, her lips were firmly pressed against his.

He Wanqing was stunned for a moment, and before she could react, he pushed her down onto the sofa.

For a long time, the lips are divided.

Mo Ye looked at her with a mischievous grin, his eyes gleaming with triumph: "Kiss here. That way you don't need to wipe it."

He Wanqing was pinned down by him, panting and glaring at him, but her eyes were shimmering with tears, and she had no intimidating power at all.

"You're stepping on my hair," she said sullenly. "Get up right now."

Mo Ye looked down and saw that there was indeed a strand of long hair that he had pressed down on.

He quickly propped himself up and helped her up.

He Wanqing sat up, tidied her messy hair, then took the black hair tie off her wrist and handed it to him.

"Help me tie my hair up."

Of course she would tie her own hair.

But she just liked having him tie her up.

She loved how he clumsily lifted her hair, loved the slightly warm touch of his fingers when they accidentally brushed against her earlobe, and loved the reassuring feeling of him hugging her from behind after he finished tying her hair.

Mo Ye took the hair tie and made her sit with her back to him.

He gently gathered her hair from her shoulders and pulled it back, combed it a few times with his fingers, and then clumsily began to tie it.

His movements were very clumsy.

It went around to the left and then to the right, going back and forth, but in the end it was still loosely tied and tilted to one side.

"Okay," he said, a little guilty.

He Wanqing reached out and touched it, a slight smile playing on her lips.

It's a bit ugly, but she likes it.

Mo Ye wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder and his face against hers.

"Wanqing," he said softly.

"Um?"

"I love you."

He Wanqing looked at the reflection on the TV screen, and the smile on her lips was so wide that she couldn't suppress it; it was harder to suppress than an AK.

But she still tried to keep a straight expression and asked in that calm tone:

"What will you do when I get old and a younger, prettier, and more sensible girl likes you?"

She asked the question casually, as if she didn't care at all.

But Mo Ye noticed that her little ears had quietly perked up.

He paused for a moment, then smiled.

He always felt that He Wanqing was the kind of person who was rational to the core.

But now he has discovered that all girls lack a sense of security in relationships.

No matter how outstanding or confident a woman is, she will still hope that her boyfriend will comfort her.

He certainly wouldn't spoil her fun.

"They might meet someone better than me." He tightened his arms around her, his voice gentle yet resolute.

"But you're the only one in my eyes. You'll always be the most beautiful in my eyes."

He rested his chin on her shoulder and gently nuzzled it. "Are you satisfied with this answer?"

He Wanqing finally couldn't suppress the smile on her lips, but she still stubbornly said, "Who knows if you're just sweet-talking me?"

Mo Ye chuckled mischievously, leaned close to her ear, and whispered, "I can swear on my conscience."

He Wanqing was stunned, and before she could react, she heard him continue:

"Touch your conscience."

He Wanqing: "..."

Mo Ye looked at her expression and his smile grew even more wicked:

"I don't like smoking, I don't like drinking, can't I even have a little hobby? I can talk to you while touching your two... backpacks."

He Wanqing was taken aback: "Backpack? I don't have a backpack."

She was a top student since she was a child, but she didn't carry a schoolbag much. Starting from junior high school, she thought it was too heavy and would just carry a few books to school.

Then she saw Mo Ye's mischievous expression and instantly realized what he meant by "backpack".

"You, you—" Her face flushed red instantly. "You're so lecherous! I'm not talking to you anymore!"

She shoved him hard: "Get lost!"

Mo Ye smiled and nodded, then remained motionless, maintaining zero-distance contact with her.

He Wanqing couldn't push him, so she simply gave up.

Mo Ye picked up the remote and turned on the TV, then skillfully began boiling water to make tea.

He Wanqing watched his movements: washing the cups, warming the pot, adding tea leaves, pouring water, and serving the tea—all done in one smooth, effortless motion.

Those hands were long and strong, moving with a calm and unhurried rhythm that was pleasing to the eye.

She couldn't help but click her tongue twice: "Your technique is almost on par with a master's."

Mo Ye smiled and handed her a cup of freshly brewed tea: "I've seen this since I was a child, how could I not know it?"

He poured her a cup of tea, blew on it, and brought it to her lips.

He Wanqing naturally let out an "ah" and opened her mouth, waiting for him to feed her.

Mo Ye shook his head indulgently and brought the teacup to her lips.

She had drunk half of it and was waiting for him to feed her more when Mo Ye took the teacup away.

He Wanqing was taken aback; she hadn't had enough to drink yet.

Then she saw Mo Ye drink the remaining half cup in one gulp, right where she had drunk from.

He poured another glass, blew on it to cool it down, and fed it to her lips again.

She drank half of it, then he took it away and drank the rest.

After finishing his drink, he smacked his lips and said contentedly, "It's definitely sweeter now. Even sweeter than the aftertaste."

He Wanqing stared at the teacup in his hand and whispered, "I also want to drink the half you've drunk..."