However, Wen Shuqiao was willing to coax him, and she said, "Lift it up so I can see."

Shen Jiazhou reluctantly raised his head, and Wen Shuqiao kissed his forehead: "Good boy, Zhouzhou."

"Don't try to coax me like that," Shen Jiazhou weakly protested. "I'm not a little brat."

"Then don't cry." Wen Shuqiao touched the corner of his eye with her fingertip: "You cry more often than a little brat."

Even Can Can wouldn't dare say she's the most prone to crying in the family.

Wen Shuqiao kissed him again: "Okay, cheer up. If Shen Shiyue is defeated by difficulties, he is not Shen Shiyue. Believe in him."

Shen Jiazhou mumbled an "Mmm": "I know, I was so sad that Can Can woke up."

Shen Jiazhou himself knew very well that he couldn't dwell on his grief. Just as Wen Shuqiao said, the two of them could only offer their blessings from afar.

But once he learned that one of his nephews was suffering, Shen Jiazhou felt a surge of inexplicable anger, mostly directed at himself.

Wen Shuqiao pinched his cheek: "Okay, approved."

Shen Jiazhou buried his face in his arms again. Suddenly, he remembered something and said, "The last time I held the cake, it was Shi Yue, right? He also buried his face in my arms."

“Hmm, the inherited skill of burying your face.” Wen Shuqiao stroked his hair: “Can Can is one, Shen Shiyue is one, and you are one too.”

“And Shen Jiachen,” Shen Jiazhou added quietly, “He definitely is too.”

Wen Shuqiao nodded twice: "Yes, Shen Jiachen must be too."

Shen Jiazhou fell silent again. After a long while, he finally asked, "Will he really get better and better?"

"He will," Wen Shuqiao reassured him softly. "He definitely will, and he will surely achieve his wish."

Shen Jiazhou sighed again, and this time he really didn't say anything. He closed his eyes, smelled Wen Shuqiao's scent, and fell asleep peacefully.