"Mom, what kind of mother talks about her own son like that? If I were really such a failure, why would Master take me as his disciple?" Chen Ahmao's face couldn't hide the embarrassment as he raised his voice and shouted.
As a result, he didn't pour the water steadily, spilling it all over his hand and screeching in pain from the burn.
Chen Ahmao's mother, the deputy director of the local hospital, was quite well-educated. It was unexpected that she would have a ruffian for a son.
At the moment, seeing her son's pathetic state, she was speechlessly holding her forehead repeatedly.
Chen Ahmao's father chimed in, "Though it's a bit presumptuous to ask... Master Chen, are you... really not mistaken?"
"Cough, cough, cough..." I was just drinking water when I suddenly choked on it.
Chen Ahmao hurried over to pat my back, "Master, are you feeling better?"
"Otherwise, it's just out of pity for him," Chen Ahmao's father said, frowning deeply.
