Having grown up in luxury, Master Ye could judge the quality of food with just a sip, whether it was good or bad, precious or inferior.
The little dumpling clicked its tongue:
"Brother Xiao Jiu, is it hard to drink?" he asked.
Xiao Jiu shook her head: "No."
"Yeah, Tuanzi didn't think so either."
How could the two little ones know whether the tea was good or not?
Ye Jiman rarely paid attention to the two little ones, but Ye Chenyang had already taken out two steamed buns and handed them to Ye Jiman:
"If you don't like it, then there won't be any food left, hmph!"
The final groan indicated that their relationship hadn't actually improved.
Before Ye Jiman could even reach out to take them, Ye Chenyang shoved the two steamed buns into Ye Jiman's arms.
"Eat it or don't, it's up to you."
Before he finished speaking, he had already run out.
Ye Jiman looked at the two steamed buns in his hand with a bitter and resentful expression, and finally took a bite as if he were glaring at an enemy.
Little Tuanzi and Xiao Jiu have obediently gone to the side to continue writing.
Grandpa Ye's expression is too frightening; it's best not to provoke him for now.
Our little dumpling is quite pragmatic.
How can a child have much self-control?
"Brother Xiao Jiu, have you finished writing?"
Xiao Jiu shook her head: "No."
"Oh, Tuanzi doesn't want to write anymore, her hands hurt, she needs to rest." The little figure, who had only written two lines of single characters, started to act like a rascal.
Xiao Jiu frowned: "Then... let's rest for a while."
Unfortunately, that's not what the little dumpling meant:
"Brother Xiao Jiu, when will you finish writing?"
"It will be a while longer."
"Hmm... Tuanzi, go out and rest for a while. Come back in and keep Xiao Jiu company while he continues writing."
To put it simply, I just want to go out and have some fun.
Xiao Jiu's face had an "I knew it" expression on it:
"All right."
With my younger brother around, I feel like I'm moving at a snail's pace.
The little guy threw down his pen and ran outside. By then, all the loaches in the yard had been dealt with.
"Mommy~ Mommy Mommy~"
"What's wrong? Have you finished writing?"
The little one shook his head, raised his hand, and looked pitiful: "Mommy, my hand hurts, Mommy, blow on it."
Ye Wanying rolled her eyes twice. Her son's acting was so bad that even she found it cringeworthy.
"Oh, why does it hurt?" he asked deliberately.
Upon hearing this, the little guy sniffed:
"Writing hurts."
It would be strange if Ye Wanying believed it:
"How much did you write?"
This question was a little difficult for the little guy to answer:
"I wrote it...I wrote it...but I forgot, Mommy, can you blow on it?"
No, I refuse.
The little man looked quite troubled, then, as if he had thought of something, he whispered:
"Mommy, blow on it! Tuanzi can tell Mommy something!"
Hmm, negotiating terms?
"What's up?"
It's something I can consider.
The little one's eyes darted around, sometimes making a "whoosh" sound, sometimes furrowing his brows.
"It's a very secret," he said to Ye Wanying.
Oh.
"Give me your hand."
Upon hearing this, the little boy immediately stretched out his hand, his face beaming with a sweet smile:
"Mommy, blow on it~"
I blew on my son's chubby little paws a few times:
"Alright, you can speak now."
The little one is naturally affectionate, and now he's completely satisfied:
"Mommy, Grandpa Ye just said he's taking Uncle Yang, Tuanzi, and Brother Xiaojiu to a concert."
A concert?
Whose is it?
The little boy scratched his head: "I forgot, it seems to be Li..."
"Le Dynasty".
"Oh, yes, Mom, that's the person."
Ye Wanying's lips curled into a meaningful smile, then she looked at the little boy in front of her: "Son, go and talk to your Second Grandfather Ye and ask him to get another ticket. Mom wants to go too. If you can't get one, ask him to see what he can do!"
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