Hearing someone come in, the little boy by the bed turned his head.
He looked about three or four years old, and from the resemblance in their features, it was clear he was Anthony Varley's son.
His father was already devastatingly handsome, but this little bun could be described as inhumanly handsome.
He inherited all of Anthony Varley's best features, then surpassed them.
Therefore, even if the Varley Clan went bankrupt in the future, this child wouldn't starve.
If he became a model, his hourly wage would be 20,000, right?
Sarah Sullivan thought silently to herself.
Because of her own experiences, she really didn't like children.
But for some reason, the little boy named Dominic Varley in front of her didn't evoke any feelings of resistance.
Sarah Sullivan keenly noticed that the little boy's eyes were full of wariness and vigilance towards her, then he lowered his head again, drawing something on paper.
"Brightan, from now on this will be your—" Florence just started to introduce when Sarah Sullivan interrupted.
"Call me Auntie; not every woman deserves to be called Mom."
The word "Mom" implies affection and responsibility.
Sarah Sullivan didn't think she would be involved in much affection or responsibility with this father and son.
She didn't want this little bun to have expectations of maternal love and then be deeply disappointed.
Just like she once was, from longing for kinship to becoming indifferent and aloof.
Yet Brightan acted as if he hadn't heard their words, continuing to focus on his drawing, as if they didn't exist.
Florence felt somewhat awkward; "Brightan has always been very introverted and doesn't like to talk. Ever since his father had an accident, he hasn't spoken a word. Please be understanding."
"Not talking is good, quiet."
Sarah Sullivan walked to the bedside and sat down next to Brightan.
Florence, however, felt uncomfortable no matter how she listened to Sarah Sullivan's words.
Was she being disliked for being too noisy?
So she had to close her mouth.
But after a while, she couldn't help but speak again.
Because she suddenly noticed something interesting.
That Sarah Sullivan and Brightan sat side by side by the bed, one big and one small, without making a sound, appeared so harmonious?
Moreover, Brightan's eyes bore quite a resemblance to Sarah Sullivan's.
Both were so clear, so profound, like an unfathomable lake.
"My dear niece, I find that you and Brightan resemble a mother and son; this must be destiny, haha..."
Florence laughed, but was met with Sarah Sullivan's frosty gaze: "You are not as humorous as you imagine."
Florence wisely shut up once more.
But being a chatterbox, she felt like she was being redundant, so she mentioned having to prepare things for the evening wedding chamber and slipped out.
The room was left with just three individuals.
Two sitting, one lying down, no one made a sound.
Sarah Sullivan continued to observe the man in a deep sleep.
She was willing to marry into the Varley Clan for three reasons.
First, she needed money.
Second, the other party was in a vegetative state, which predetermined that the marriage would only be a marriage in name, not in essence.
Being a living widow wasn't bad.
Sarah Sullivan had mysophobia, which was very important.
Third, she didn't believe in the superstitious idea of marrying to bring good fortune, but she felt she might indeed become this man's savior.
After observing for a while, Sarah Sullivan reached out and took Anthony Varley's hand, which was resting outside the quilt.
This action startled the little bun.
He jumped up immediately, scattering the drawing papers he was holding all over, and pointed the sketch pencil at Sarah Sullivan's brow, like a feisty little tiger.
Very serious, yet also very adorable and cute.
Sarah Sullivan knew he was protecting his father in this way.
"I won't harm your dad, nor will I harm you," Sarah Sullivan's voice was particularly melodious in this quiet environment.
"So there's no need for you to be nervous. Right now, I'm trying to save your dad. Don't you also hope he wakes up soon?"
With Sarah Sullivan's words, the wariness in the little bun's eyes slowly dissipated.
The pencil in his hand no longer pointed at Sarah Sullivan, but was held in his palm.
His big eyes blinked unblinkingly, watching Sarah Sullivan's every move.
"Good boy."
Sarah Sullivan rarely smiled, but one appeared on her face. She used her other hand to gently tousle the little bun's fluffy hair.
The little bun was not used to this intimacy, and like a startled rabbit, he ran off but didn't leave. Instead, he stood at the foot of the bed, curiously watching Sarah Sullivan's every move.
Sarah Sullivan closed her eyes and began seriously checking Anthony Varley's pulse.
Earlier she had carefully observed, and there were no external injuries on the man.
Checking his pulse, she didn't find any internal injuries either.
Earlier on her way to the Varley Clan, Florence had mentioned that Anthony Varley was perfectly fine just six months ago.
Then he suddenly ended up like this.
At the time, Sarah Sullivan thought he might have been poisoned, but now his pulse was steady and calm, with no signs of poisoning.
One could say this was a very healthy man, aside from not waking up.
What was going on?
Sarah Sullivan fell into deep thought.
She had a needle kit with her and took out 28 fine gold needles as thin as ox hair.
Picking the Zan Zhu point, Yu Yao point, Qing Ming point, Si Zhu Kong point...Sarah Sullivan's "golden needle acupuncture" technique was skilled, and in no time, Anthony Varley was covered in gold needles.
From a distance, the little bun's eyes widened like cartoon characters from anime.
All children were afraid of injections, and Brightan was no exception.
But now he knew he couldn't make a fuss, so as not to disturb this aunt's treatment of his father, and tightly covered his mouth.
"Ah? What are you doing! Stop!"
Steward Varley came in from outside and was shocked by the scene, unable to help but shout.
Sarah Sullivan was inserting the last gold needle into Anthony Varley's Feng Chi point. Despite someone's sudden outcry, her hand remained stable, without a hint of trembling.
After finishing, she glanced at Steward Varley: "Shouting like that, even a child is more mature."
Hearing Sarah Sullivan say this, a flash of light brightened the little bun's eyes.
Steward Varley, however, became anxious: "This is your first day in the door and you're already trying to murder your husband? Come, we will go find the master and madam to settle this!"
Sarah Sullivan was too lazy to speak further with such people.
"Lead the way then."
Steward Varley angrily led the way ahead, feeling like he was doing a good job protecting his master.
The little bun also followed behind Sarah Sullivan.
So no one noticed that the fingers of the man on the bed moved slightly!