Drifting Towards You

His little princess is so gone?

Forget it if it's gone?

Is the son still a genius?

Mu Beiting sat on the side of the big bed with a gloomy expression, took out his mobile phone to log in to Post Bar and asked: What should I do if my son is a genius?

After a while, there will be a reply below.

[As long as you have a son, you have a son, so you have a son! ! ! smile. 】

[Cold salad, after all, your son is yours, of course, if it's the Lao Wang next door, I didn't say it. 】

[It's about genetic factors, accept your fate, spread your hands. 】

[It’s okay to perform better than him, and you will be the next actor when you hone your acting skills. 】

[Pretend to be ill, I pretend to be ill. 】

[Got an opportunity to beat him up, let him know that this woman is yours. 】

...

Seeing these inconspicuous replies, Mu Beiting threw away the phone anxiously.

That night, the bedside lamp in the bedroom was on.

Su Xiangwan held a telephone story book in his hand, and Wen Sheng told him the story.

The little guy is extraordinarily well-behaved and motionless. His black eyes are like grapes, black and bright. Every time Su Xiangwan looks at him, he will purse his mouth and bend his eyes.

Su Xiangwan couldn't help but kissed his little cheek.

This was what Mu Beiting saw when he opened the door and came in.

Su Xiangwan glanced at him and ignored him.

After a while, Mu Beiting climbed onto the bed, next to Su Xiangwan's side.

The big hand landed on her slender waist, and her head kept rubbing against her, and she said in a grieved muffled voice: "Late night..."

Su Xiangwan rubbed his head and hissed softly, "I'm telling him a story."

Before long, the little guy was drowsy.

Su Xiangwan gently closed the book of fairy tales and put it aside, then his eyes fell on Mu Beiting's face.

Mu Beiting hesitated for a moment, staring at her solemnly: "I seem to have a cold."

Su Xiangwan was stunned for a moment, then reached out and touched his forehead: "It doesn't seem to be hot, it shouldn't have a fever, why are you uncomfortable?"

Su Xiangwan spoke eagerly.

Seeing the anxiety in her eyes, Mu Beiting's mood improved a little.

After a few seconds of silence, the voice said in a low voice: "Sore throat, headache."

Su Xiangwan frowned and tried to push him away: "Get out."

Mu Beiting was stunned for a moment, but did not react for a while.

With that said, Su Xiangwan got up from the bed, stepped on the carpet barefoot, dragging him down the bed.

Mu Beiting curled his eyebrows, his lips pressed tightly.

Immediately afterwards, I heard her say: "Yearly now, you are still young, and your resistance is poor. You must never infect him. Before you get better, stay away from me and him."

The corners of Mu Beiting's eyes twitched, and his heart that was still a little bit of joy sank a little bit.

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her gloomyly, as if a mountain was about to rain.

But Su Xiangwan was not afraid of him at all: "Go away, you are carrying germs right now."

Mu Beiting's Qi Qiao smoked, raised his hand and pulled her to his thigh.

Su Xiangwan was careless and fell into a seat, only to feel that his legs were strong and powerful.

Facing his deep black eyes, he only felt that there was a touch of irritation in his eyes, and there was a little grievance hidden in his eyes.

She was stunned, and said warmly: "Why...what's the matter?"

He lowered his eyes slightly, buried his head in her neck, and said in a deep voice, "Late night..."

"En?" Su Xiangwan gently touched his soft hair, and rubbed it mischievously.

"Am I important or every year?" Mu Beiting muttered.

Su Xiangwan thought about it seriously: "Every year... every year is important."

Mu Beiting's whole body stiffened, and the big hands that held her tightened harder, confining her waist like an iron bucket: "Say it again."

There was a faint redness in the eyes under his eyes, and there was a threat in his flickering eyes.