Ou Cong scratched his head and said, "Forget about her. Shi Wu, you really don't want to learn how to play games from your uncle?"
"Ou Cong!" Ou ZhenTing not only wanted to scold his son, he also wanted to beat him up. "What are you trying to do?"
A three-year-old kid, and he wants to teach him to play games—what's he up to?
This infuriating son of his, sometimes it'd be better if he didn't come back at all.
But Ou Cong wasn't scared at all. He chuckled and said, "Dad, you're such an old fuddy-duddy. What's wrong with a kid playing some games?"
"Shi Wu, don't you think your uncle is right?" Ou Cong was still trying to lure Huo Shiwu over. "Want to go play with your uncle?"
Ou ZhenTing finally ran out of patience. Face dark, he put Huo Shiwu down, rolled up his sleeves, and got ready to thrash his son.
When it came to this situation, Ou Cong was very experienced. The moment he saw his father's expression, he knew he was about to get beaten.
