At this moment, Luoluo, sleeping in her grandmother's arms, rubbed her little face against her grandmother. Mrs. Yao noticed that her grandson's face seemed to have uneven color on both sides and immediately roared at her son: "Did you pinch his face?!"
Mr. Yao clicked his tongue.
"Why would you pinch his face for no reason?"
"He's my son. Can't I tease him a bit? When Baozi was little, who knows how many times I pinched his face. What child cries as soon as you pinch their face? He's more of a neat freak than me, more narcissistic than me!"
Mrs. Yao was so shocked by her son's words that her goosebumps fell all over the place.
Mr. Yao casually brushed his bangs, saying: "Anyway, he's a boy. It's not right for boys to care too much about their face. Pinching his face is good for him."
Mrs. Yao, being fair, didn't mind giving him a slight blow: "When you were young, if someone pinched your face, you would bite their finger!"
Mr. Yao stubbornly refused to admit: "Did I?!"
