The young child stared unwaveringly at the female sculpture before him.
The light from the ceiling fell into his eyes, he blinked his long eyelashes and slowly stretched out his hand.
He pouted his little bum and straightened his waist, after some effort, he barely reached the woman's face.
The tender little hand caressed the woman's gentle face.
This was the first time since his birth that he had such a concrete image of his mother.
Somehow, in his consciousness, he felt that his mother should look like this sculpture.
Previously, he knew that Long Xingkui was not his mother.
He would secretly wonder what his mother looked like.
But no matter how he thought, he couldn't figure it out, he had imagined those women at the institute, but felt none of them were right, his mother didn't look like that.
Now, he finally had a new impression of the word "mother".
His mother should look like this!
