Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios
He lifted his gaze to look at Mu Yazhe coldly. Expressionlessly tossing his blanket aside, he calmly got down from bed and trudged toward the window, then leaning his weight on the wall while hugging his arms.
“Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be with your fiancée at this time? Why do you keep clinging on to my mommy? It’s really annoying.”
Once the little boy opened his mouth, every word from him woundingly penetrated him; it was really painful.
He did not find this little boy’s indifferent and somber way of speech surprising.
This child was too sensitive – he had carefully concealed his weakest side.
He noticed how the boy was leaning against the wall. It appeared as if he were looking for support from the hard surface of it.
“Are you very satisfied?”
One of his eyebrows was raised at the boy’s question.
The little boy pursed his lips firmly. He was now like a rampant little beast – he did not feel safe. He hugged his arms tightly and, suppressing all his rage and insecurity, he repeated himself, “Bullying my mommy before me, are you very satisfied, Mu Yazhe?!”
He called his name directly, but he was not enraged by this. He simply replied him slowly with a smirk, “Based on seniority, you should call me ‘daddy’.”
“Daddy?” The little boy’s brow formed a good-looking arch. “On what grounds?”
He answered, “My blood runs in your veins; is this reason good enough?”
Two people, father and son, one large and one small, formed two incompatible and extreme auras.
Yun Tianyou’s eyes darkened. “Good enough? NO!”
He abruptly lifted his chin haughtily and stared intensely at the man’s handsome profile. “Do you think that because we are related by blood, I should call you ‘daddy’? I’m already six! Six years old! Have we met before in the past six years? Have you fulfilled your duties as a father? Now, you pop up out of nowhere and suddenly want me to acknowledge you as my daddy?” he asked, his youthful voice full of evident conviction.
After putting forth a series of questions, his fragile body seemed to have slightly deflated.
He furrowed his brows and dropped his head; his hand clutched his wrist firmly, as if this could help simmer the flames of anger within his heart.
He lowered his sight before speaking to him in a subdued voice, “Mu Yazhe, I believe you are mistaken about something. It is not an obligation for me to acknowledge you as my father, just because we are related by blood.”
The man was startled.
The child looked up at him and suddenly questioned him back with a smirk, “When I was born, did you carry me? When it was dark, did you lull me to sleep with a lullaby? When I was bullied, were you there to comfort me? In kindergarten, while the other children had their fathers to bring them home, where were you? Now, after six years, you appear all of a sudden, wanting me to call you ‘daddy’. Mu Yazhe, do you think you are qualified enough?”
There was not much of an agitation in his tone, and his voice was calm and collected as usual, but when he said that, his youthful voice was trembling a little.
Although he was emotionless when he spouted those words, as if they were about another person, through them, one could see the dried blood and tears seeping out.
He continued coldly, “You’ll never know how mommy and I have suffered in the past six years.”
Mu Yazhe slowly stated, “For the past six years, I didn’t know I have another son.”