Based on years of experience, the best way to ensure survival in front of this sharp-tongued couple is to act as invisible as possible.
After all, dying of anger is also a form of death.
Bo Yanching held her on his lap, curled his long fingers, and tapped her chin twice, making her look up, "What kid are you talking about, thinking of having one?"
From this close angle, even looking up from below, his face was still flawlessly perfect, and her eyes instantly got lost in it, "No, not at all."
"Even if you want to, you can't. You're still young, play a few more years."
A comment truly filled with fatherly tone.
Nan Jiaojiao gladly accepted, "San Shu, you're over thirty already. In a few years, you'll be nearing forty. I heard the older you get, the lower the quality of certain cells, what if we end up with an intellectually challenged child?"
"Pfft—" Han Chuan couldn't help but snicker.
Can't blame him for listening; the barrier doesn't offer much soundproofing.
