Mo Qishen stood by the side, looking at Ni Yang's profile, his heart softening into a mass.
In the future, his and Ni Yang's daughter would certainly be cuter than this little one.
With this thought, the corners of his lips unconsciously curved into a smile.
From Zhao Jingrong's perspective, she could just see the warmth in his eyes.
The usually stoic man, when he smiled, wrapped the clean sharpness in his charismatic aloofness, pure and peerless.
Zhao Jingrong's heart stirred.
Suddenly, she remembered that this man was once her fiancé not long ago.
Mo Qishen was blessed with extremely good looks, far more handsome than Baichuan, a pity, aside from his looks, he was completely useless.
She didn't regret marrying Baichuan.
Zhao Jingrong shifted her gaze away and clenched her fists; she must bear a son to continue Baichuan's lineage.
Definitely.
Ni Yang looked at Zhao Jingrong and then said, "Have you named her yet?"
"Yes," Zhao Jingrong nodded, "Her name is Mo Bingbing."
