"Can you stop crying?"
The baby in the swaddle, delicate like a porcelain doll.
But this porcelain doll kept scrunching up its little face, crying loudly, afraid that if it cried any longer, it would run out of breath.
Ying Ce was speechless and helpless.
He was always calm and gentle, but the world feared him, no matter how softly he spoke, no one dared to be impudent in his presence.
Oh, except for Little Seven.
But it could only be Little Seven.
As for this little wolf cub...
Pinching his temples with jade-like fingers, his tone finally revealed a hint of impatience, "Cry any more, and I'll throw you to the wolves."
The little baby paused, that perpetually scrunched-up little face finally relaxed.
As if understanding the threat, it stared with big round eyes.
Ying Ce paused too.
He instinctively thought, boys should be like his annoying father.
