Chapter 68 Momo, I hate my mother...
The light in the room was dim, and there was a small bulge on the small bed caused by wrinkles.
He Cong carefully pulled the quilt aside. The little guy curled up into a small circle and was not sleeping well, as if he had a bad nightmare. His little face was red and wet, and it was obvious that he cried in his sleep.
Coupled with the continuous violent coughing, his shoulders also trembled and twitched, just like an uneasy and frightened chick, and he subconsciously curled up deep into the quilt.
He Cong frowned and leaned over to pick up He Zhimo from the bed.
He held the cub's soft body in his long arms, lowered his head slightly, and used his other hand to carefully wipe the wet tear marks on the little guy's face.
Shang Youqing followed him in and looked a little embarrassed and distressed when she saw this scene. She couldn't help but reach out her hand.
However, when she was about to touch the forehead of He Zhimo who was held in He Cong's arms, He Cong glanced at her with a cold and gloomy look, as if warning her of something.
Shang Youqing held his hands in the air and opened his mouth to explain in a low voice, "I just wanted to feel if He Zhimo had a fever."
He Cong: "Before you came over, I just coaxed him to sleep with some fever-reducing medicine."
Shang Youqing was silent for a moment, "Is it because of me?"
He Cong brushed away the hair on the boy's cheeks, which was matted with tears, and said in a cold tone, "It was raining so hard, and he insisted on waiting at the banquet hall door for someone who didn't keep his promise. He waited from day to night. Isn't it normal for him to get sick and have a fever?"
Shang Youqing fell silent again.
She stood silently beside He Cong, watching him hold the sick cub for a while with a sullen expression, but she couldn't help but reach out her hand again, "Can you let me hold him?"
He Cong didn't give it to him, but just took the time to make a sarcastic remark in between coaxing his child.
"Now you remember that He Zhimo is also your son?"
Shang Youqing: “…”
Seeing that she didn't say anything, He Cong slowly raised his eyes and stared at her, his thin lips opened coldly: "When you are happy, you can coax me casually, and then if you say you don't want it, then you don't want it. It's the same with me and Mo Mo. Is there any sincerity left in your words, Shang Youqing?"
Shang Youqing resisted the urge to snatch the chick from his hands and said in a gentle and low voice, "I don't deny that I have done things that hurt you and Momo, but now I just want to make it up to Momo and help him get rid of his fever as soon as possible. If you are still angry, can you please change the situation?"
After a few seconds, He Cong seemed to snort coldly from his throat, and finally handed the baby to her with a serious face.
Shang Youqing took He Zhimo very carefully, and gently touched the little guy's forehead with the palm of his hand and fingertips to confirm that it was just a common fever. The heart that had been hanging since entering the room finally settled down slightly.
She began to use her weak spiritual breath to heal the little cub whose body was burning with fever, hoping that the little guy would get better as soon as possible.
He Zhimo felt in a daze that his slightly burning little body seemed to be placed in a warm and soft nest. Out of the instinct of a phoenix chick, the little guy couldn't let go and wanted to drill deeper into it.
But for some reason, he felt a strange itch in his eyes. He Zhimo muttered to himself, raised his little hand to scratch it, but he grabbed a thin, fine feather.
For a moment, He Zhimo seemed to hear the extremely cold and ruthless words falling from above his head again, "The Phoenix bloodline in him is not pure enough. What's the point of having such an offspring?" His eyelashes trembled violently, and tears like drops of water on a string trembled and hung on his thin cheekbones. He choked in his dream and sobbed, "I hate you..."
"What?"
Shang Youqing saw He Zhimo curled up in her arms, tears silently streaming down the little guy's face, his little hands tightly clutching the corner of her clothes, and he was mumbling something incoherently.
Thinking the little guy was in pain, Shang Youqing leaned closer worriedly, only to hear a faint, vague voice, "Momo, you hate your mother..."
Shang Youqing lowered his eyes and looked at He Zhimo's little face so close to him, and swallowed slowly with a dry throat.
I finally realized that the little one was crying in his sleep due to stress because he was being held by me...
Shang Youqing slowed down her movements until the baby in her arms gradually lost its heat and its temperature returned to normal. She then forced herself to regain her cool expression, stood up from the edge of the bed holding the baby, and made a gesture as if to return He Zhimo to He Cong.
"Okay, hold Momo. Everything will be fine when Momo wakes up after a good sleep."
She didn't look at He Cong, but spoke in a low voice with her eyes downcast.
However, He Cong didn't seem to have any intention of reaching out to take the child. He stood there calmly from beginning to end, staring at her and asking, "And then?"
Shang Youqing didn't react, and finally raised his eyes: "What then?"
"After making up for that so-called guilt in your heart, you are so eager to throw Mo Mo back to me, right?"
Shang Youqing turned his face slightly, his eyes coldly falling on the dim light mist in the room.
After waiting for a while, seeing that He Cong still had no intention of taking over, he silently carried the baby in his arms back to the crib, gently covered the little guy with the quilt, and then stood up again.
She gently placed the birthday present she had brought all the way in the rain on the table and said calmly, "This is a birthday present for Momo. If you don't want to give it to Momo, or if Momo doesn't want it, you can throw it away yourself."
After a pause, he turned his head back and said, "It's so late, I'm sorry to bother you."
After Shang Youqing finished speaking, he turned around and left without waiting for He Cong to respond.
She emerged from the room, the dim light from the wall lamps on either side of the corridor casting a shadow on her. Shang Youqing felt an inexplicable chill creeping into her skin, her mind filled with thoughts of her little phoenix baby, who even in her dreams was crying and saying things he hated her...
However, after she had taken a few steps, her entire thin body was suddenly pressed hard against the wall on one side of the corridor from behind.
The area connecting his chin to his neck was clamped by He Cong's warm and powerful hands. Shang Youqing's brain was slow and he didn't react for a while. He was almost forced to look up at him.
He Cong lowered his head to her nose, his dark eyes brimming with a violent emotion not seen in a long time. His voice was low and hoarse, cruel and vicious: "You have the final say in everything? You come when I summon you and send you away when I dismiss you. Shang Youqing, what do you take me for?"
Shang Youqing narrowed her eyes, and before she could say anything, He Cong's deep and cold face moved closer. He Cong's other slender hand passed through her loose black hair, covered the skin on the back of her neck, and pressed her towards him.
The high bridge of his nose rubbed against her eyebrows and his thin, hot lips caressed hers as if he was kissing her, but his breathing was suppressed and heavy.
"But if you really don't care, why did you come here in the rain late at night? Why did you give Momo a birthday present? Shang Youqing, you lied to me. You lied to me before, didn't you? You actually just—"
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