Jing Shasha said, "An adopted one still isn't our child."
"Ever heard 'the grace of raising outweighs the grace of giving birth'?" Yu Mo said. "We'll pick a young one to adopt, raise them ourselves, then they'll be our child."
Jing Shasha fell silent.
She herself was still just a big kid.
Her obsession with having a child came from her grandparents' urgent wish to have a great-grandson to carry on the Jing family line, and from how much Yu Mo liked Xiao Shumiao.
On these two points, an adopted child could never satisfy her.
She wanted a child with the Jing family's blood and Yu Mo's blood, not someone else's child.
"I hate Loo Yaxin to death," she grabbed Yu Mo by the collar and started crying again, "she not only made it so I can't have children, she also made me ugly! Will you stop liking me?"
Yu Mo: "…"
All right.
If she could think of her looks now, she must have pulled back a bit from that pit of despair.
