Chapter 52 This is a gift from my wife.
He Cong lowered his cold and indifferent brows. When he took the child from Madam He, the back of his hand that was resting on the side of the swaddling clothes was still stained with blood, and the blood vessels in his arm were faintly protruding. He held the soft little cub in his arms.
Before this, He Cong had imagined countless times the scene of him holding his child for the first time, but he never thought it would be at this moment when he had lost his beloved wife and decided to commit suicide.
The cold rain flowed down He Cong's face. He Cong's expression was numb and cold, as if he had lost all his warmth long ago.
He held the baby, so soft and small, in one hand, and held the gun in the other hand, which hung at his side. The knuckles of his fingers pressing on the trigger seemed frozen, motionless.
The little guy in his arms was crying non-stop, but after being taken into He Cong's arms, he opened his tightly clenched hands, and his red and wet eyes opened wide, looking towards the extremely indifferent He Cong above his head.
The pink and white little hands scratched around and pulled at He Cong's collar, as if wanting to get some comfort from his relatives, but his relatives didn't move and didn't say a word.
The little baby pouted his pink little mouth, raised his little head clumsily but with great effort, and climbed up with sobs.
Finally, the little hand hugged the cold black Buddha amulet under He Cong's neck, and with a snap, the whole warm and soft little face pitifully burrowed into the crook of He Cong's neck.
The red nostrils from crying twitched slightly, as if smelling an unknown yet extremely comforting and familiar scent. The little guy was hugged tightly, and the originally loud crying voice gradually became weaker.
"Fuying... before she went to see your father, she probably anticipated that your father would harm her, so she entrusted her newborn child to me... and told me to wait until you wake up before giving the child to you."
Old Madam He held up an umbrella, looking at He Cong, who was still holding the child with an expressionless face, with both heartache and fear.
Her attention was almost entirely focused on the pistol that He Cong was still holding tightly in his other hand, and she was cautious and worried.
Seeing that He Cong still didn't say a word, he was afraid that He Cong would have thoughts of suicide again, so he continued to persuade him.
"A Cong, do you have the heart to leave your child with Fuying in this world and abandon him?"
"Fuying gave birth to this child with so much difficulty, she must have hoped that you could raise him well for her... Think about it, the He family is in turmoil right now. If you really followed Fuying, what would happen to the child? Can you bear to let the child lose both his father and mother at birth?"
As Mrs. He was speaking, she saw that He Cong's numb and drooping eyes seemed to finally move slightly. She suppressed the panic in her heart and reached out carefully. Just as she was about to take the gun from He Cong's hand, He Cong moved his hand away.
Old Madam He looked up with fear and trepidation, but heard He Cong speak calmly and hoarsely.
"This was given to me by my wife."
After He Cong finished speaking, he put the gun back and got into the car with the child in his arms.
Old Madam He wiped the tears from her face while shivering, and then she breathed a sigh of relief.
…
Not long after He Zhimo was born, he had a persistent high fever. At the most serious time, he was almost sent to the emergency room.
The doctor said that the little guy was born weak and there was no better way except to spend more time and effort to take care of him.
Therefore, He Cong, who handled all the internal and external troubles with brutal and decisive means outside, tried his best to suppress his murderous aura as soon as he returned to Yanyuan, and never showed any bad emotions in front of the children.
In addition, there are so many servants in Yanyuan who can help take care of him, but Young Master He only recognizes He Cong. Especially when he is sick, he needs He Cong to hold him and coax him all night before he will behave himself.
The little crybaby really cried a lot. He Cong held him in his arms and coaxed him until late at night. Finally, the high fever gradually subsided. The little guy was finally tired of crying, or rather, he had no strength to cry anymore.
So, she held the corner of He Cong's shirt with her soft little hands, sobbed and nudged herself against her father's chest, sucking her little mouth, instinctively asking for milk.
The sick little guy couldn't leave someone alone for a moment, so He Cong could only hold the baby in one hand and prepare the milk powder according to the ratio with the other hand. He used the most standard baby-holding posture, supported the baby's round head with his arm, and fed the pacifier to the baby's mouth.
The bottle was still very heavy for the little guy, and he couldn't hold it. He just gently held He Cong's big fingers holding the bottle until he was full and his body was no longer hot. Then he sucked He Cong's fingers and played with them, making one or two soft and sticky milk sounds.
While He Cong let the little guy play in his arms, he changed the little guy, whose fever had subsided, into clean and soft clothes. The little guy then comfortably nestled in his father's broad chest and fell asleep.
Even at this time, He Cong could not put the cub back into the crib.
The little guy needs him to hold him and coax him to sleep every night. If he is coaxed to sleep under normal circumstances and put in the crib, he will be willing to sleep well.
But once he was sick, whether he was asleep or not, he had to sleep in his father's arms, otherwise he would cry all night long.
Therefore, even though it was the middle of the night, He Cong could only return to the study with the baby sleeping soundly on his chest in his arms to deal with some accumulated work.
Butler Chen knew that the young master would make a fuss for a long time every time he was sick, but the young master only wanted Mr. He to hold him, and no one else would do.
Every time, Mr. He personally fed the young master milk, gave him medicine, and changed his clothes. After finally coaxing the little boy to sleep, he would carry the child to the study to handle some business.
Butler Chen saw this and felt really distressed. He ordered the kitchen to prepare some soup and personally brought it to the study.
Sure enough, the light in the study was still on. He Cong was sitting at the desk, holding a baby in one hand and typing on the computer with the other.
The cub lay on He Cong's chest, unconsciously pouting his soft little mouth and opening and closing it slightly, as if he was still sucking milk.
Occasionally, when the baby slept restlessly, with its soft little head nodding randomly and its throat twitching slightly, He Cong would immediately stop what he was doing, lower his head slightly and gently pat the baby with the back of his hand until the baby in his arms regained a steady and sound sleep.
Housekeeper Chen didn't dare disturb the young master's sleep, so he gently placed the bowl of soup on the edge of the table and whispered, "Sir, remember to drink some soup before you get busy."
He Cong raised his hand and gently brushed the messy hair of the little one in his arms, saying, "Well, go and rest first."
Butler Chen sighed silently in his heart, and could only respond, then walked out of the study with light steps.
It was not until the sky gradually brightened that He Cong finally turned off the computer and returned to the room with the baby in his arms.
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