Chapter 57 Mao Mao, helping her brother buy a painting!

Then, Lou Yansui's stories became very popular!

Although there are only one or two readers, Mao Mao alone can do the work of a hundred.

She was incredibly supportive, providing plenty of emotional support from the moment Lou Yansui started reading the story. Her bright, dark eyes followed her brother intently, and whenever Lou Yansui paused to make corrections, her sweet, childlike voice would bombard him with questions.

"And then what?"

The story is short. It tells the tale of a little boy named Maomao, a homeless orphan who lives with a yellow tabby cat that looks like a tiger cub. The story is set in Haicheng, where they grew up, and describes the experiences of the boy and the cat in Haicheng. In just a few thousand words, the first story of Maomao and the little tabby cat comes to an end.

Mao Mao clapped her little hands until they were red, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement. She said happily, "That sounded great! Brother is awesome!"

Lou Yansui put down the last sheet of paper, pursed her lips, and asked, "Does it really sound good?"

"It's beautiful!" Mao Mao said with bright eyes, "Brother, Mao Mao wants to hear it again!"

"I've only written this one." Lou Yansui stroked the rough edge of the manuscript paper, and the embarrassment she had suppressed while reading the story resurfaced: "Mao Mao, do you really like it? Then I'll continue writing."

"Mao Mao likes it!"

Lou Heming also smiled and said, "This story is indeed quite interesting, Asui. I think you could write it a bit longer."

Lou Yansui's ears turned a little red: "Second brother, you don't have to do that."

Although he had read many books and read many stories to Mao Mao, this was his first time writing a story. His first short story was very immature and far inferior to those of serious writers who publish their work in newspapers or books.

“I really find it quite interesting,” Lou Heming said gently. “A-Sui, I think you can read it to your mother. She’s been doing charity work at the orphanage lately, and she’ll definitely like it.”

Lou Yansui nodded slightly.

That night, everyone gathered in the living room. Even the busy Lou Dashuai sat down on the sofa, holding Mao Mao in his arms, his face full of expectation as he looked at his son.

The first wife sat down beside him, glanced at her sons and wives who were either sitting or standing, and looked at Lou Yansui encouragingly: "A-Sui, let's begin."

So, under everyone's watchful eyes, Lou Yansui read the story she had written aloud again.

Even though she had heard it once before, Mao Mao still listened very attentively.

When the little boy Maomao in the story encountered danger, she would cover her face in fear, her little tufts of hair standing on end. When Maomao was out of danger, she would let out a long sigh of relief, lean back against Lou Dashuai with peace of mind, and happily swing her little feet.

Not just Mao Mao, the whole family was very supportive.

After Lou Yansui finished reading, Lou Hongjian took the lead and clapped his hands.

"good."

"That's really interesting."

"Ah Sui, you wrote a good story. Maybe you can submit it to the newspaper."

"I never expected that the Fourth Young Master would have such a talent for writing."

Is there a sequel to this story?

Mao Mao said impatiently, "Brother said we have to keep writing!"

"That's wonderful." The First Madam clapped her hands, a smile spreading from the corners of her eyes and brows: "Once you finish writing it, I want to hear it too."

Lou Dashuai's voice boomed as he laughed heartily: "Those writers who write articles to criticize me every other day, I never thought my son could write articles too. Well done! Ah Sui, write a few more, and next time I'll book the front page of the newspaper for you for a month, you can help me criticize him back!"

Mao Mao felt the chest against her head vibrating like thunder. She scratched her numb little ears and tilted her head back: "Daddy, why are they scolding you?"

Lou Dashuai remained unfazed: "Because they don't have the guts to fight me."

"fight?"

Lou Dashuai brandished his fist, which was as big as a sandbag: "If I punch them, none of them can withstand a single blow! Mao Mao, when your father was young, he could take on ten bandits by himself!"

"Wow!"

Lou Heming adjusted his glasses helplessly: "Dad, don't teach Mao Mao bad habits."

“Exactly.” The first wife picked up the little girl and put her on her lap. “A-Sui wrote a fairy tale for Mao-Mao to read. How could you ask him to curse for you?”

Commander Lou was unconvinced and glared at him fiercely: "He's just siding with his father and saying a few curses..."

He was met with a disapproving look from the first wife, and he swallowed the rest of his words.

Lou Yansui was encouraged, especially by the little girl who followed him around like a little shadow, praising him as her brother this and that. That night, he continued to write impromptu stories about Maomao and Maomao's wanderings.

A burst of inspiration struck him, and within two days he finished writing the second short story.

As her brother's most loyal little reader, Mao Mao was very supportive. As soon as a new story came out, she sat in the garden and listened to it all, clapping her little hands until they were red.

"Brother, Mao Mao wants to hear more!"

Lou Yansui smiled and said, "Then I'll continue writing."

"Brother, can Mao Mao eat chocolate?" Mao Mao grabbed a half-eaten chocolate ball, her mouth all black from eating: "Chocolate is so delicious."

"Can."

"Where's the ice cream?"

"Sure, sure." Lou Yansui was very agreeable: "Anything is fine."

Mao Mao's eyes sparkled, and she swallowed hard. "Can Mao Mao have two ice creams today?"

Lou Yansui: "No, Mao Mao, you'll get a stomachache."

Mao Mao was extremely disappointed!

A car stopped in front of the building.

Zhang Jingshu got out of the back seat and directed the driver to unload the large and small gift boxes from the car.

She came to express her gratitude.

On the day of her birthday party, a chandelier unexpectedly fell, but fortunately, she was alerted, preventing a disaster. Having received such a huge favor, of course, she had to repay it.

Various beautifully packaged gift boxes were unloaded from the car. Zhang Jingshu turned around and immediately spotted the round figure sitting under a white parasol in the garden.

She waved in that direction: "Mao Mao!"

Mao Mao turned around, climbed down from her seat, and ran over happily: "Sister!"

When the two met up, Zhang Jingshu was about to touch the girl's cheek when she first noticed the dark circles around the girl's mouth.

"Oh dear, how did you end up like this?" She took out a handkerchief from her pocket and carefully wiped Mao Mao's face.

Mao Mao obediently tilted her little face up, letting Zhang Jingshu do as she pleased.

Suddenly, her nose twitched, and she tilted her little head back to sniff the air.

Her whole face lit up, and she was so excited that even the little tuft of hair at the back of her head bounced up: "Sister, there's something delicious!"

"Haha, Mao Mao, your nose is really sharp."

Zhang Jingshu showed her the gifts beside her.

On top of each gift box of different sizes, the topmost box bears the logo of Haicheng's time-honored pastry shop. The sweet aroma of the pastries wafts through the paper packaging and is detected by the little girl's sensitive nose.

She stuffed the snacks into Mao Mao's arms: "Eat up!"

"For me?"

"This is for you, everything here is for you."

Mao Mao looked up at the pile of gifts, which was taller than herself, and was completely stunned.

"So many?"

“Not at all.” Zhang Jingshu gently pinched her soft cheeks: “Mao Mao, you’ve helped me so much, I don’t know how to thank you. What else do you want? I only have money left, I’ll buy it all for you.”

"Anything is fine?"

Of course!

Mao Mao thought for a moment: "Mao Mao wants to buy a painting."

"painting?"

“Third Brother’s paintings.” Mao Mao said earnestly, “Third Brother’s gallery is opening soon. Last night, he secretly told me that he was worried that his paintings wouldn’t sell, and he sighed a lot.”

Mao Mao patted herself with her little hands, raised her head, and said with great brotherly loyalty, "Mao Mao, help your brother buy a painting!"

Zhang Jingshu: "..."

I really don't want to buy this.