Xia Mo cooked a bowl of noodles in the kitchen with a wry smile on her face. She didn’t know whether they wanted to join hands to attack her or their babies were actually ill.
She stayed in the apartment in the morning, going nowhere. She washed everything that needed to be cleansed and collated the notes from the college. When it was almost noon, she set up the easel before the French window and started painting with the simple skills she had just learned.
Ling Yichen was looking at the baby on his bed with a red face due to high fever. He then turned to look at Lu Wanqiu, crying at the bedside. “The doctor said the baby would be fine.”
“It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t briefly fallen asleep last night, it wouldn’t have been delayed so long.” Stricken by sorrow, Lu Wanqiu threw herself at Ling Yichen and cried in his arms. “I have nothing now. The only thing I have is this baby. If something happens to him, what shall I do?”
“He’ll be fine.” Ling Yichen patted her shoulder, but Lu Wanqiu’s hands reached out to cuddle his neck.
Ling Yichen stood there with a stiff body, not knowing where to put his hands for the moment.