"That kid on the third floor...he..."
He is my son.
Fatty Zhou's lips twitched slightly, as if his mouth was stuffed with cotton.
However, when she said the word "son," she was very clear and unambiguous.
"Your son!"
Yiyi blurted it out almost without thinking.
I was stunned.
I never expected it to turn out like this.
If your child is his son, then why would he leave the child alone in the house and let him cry? Where is the child's mother?
Or rather, shouldn't he have his own home?
Logically speaking, this should be where this Fatty Zhou does his business.
Why did you bring your own son here?
"Yes, that's my son."
Fatty Zhou's voice lowered, his eyes filled with pain.
There was no hope in his tone, as if he were stating an irreversible fact.
"His name is Xiaoyuan, and he is three years old."
It really is his son.
I couldn't believe it at all.
This guy, he's so fat, how did he manage to raise his son to be three years old?
Before Zhao came in, the baby's cries were definitely the kind that came from someone who wasn't being breastfed!
If someone were there with her, it would never be that kind of heart-wrenching crying.
"Then why was he crying on the third floor?"
And what about the sea marrow you mentioned!
The sea cucumber you just brought us has been stolen!
The trail of footprints left behind belonged to a child!
Yiyi frowned.
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