Since that day, Xiao Song had been telling a story every night before going to sleep. Occasionally, Ran Yan would also "communicate" with the fetus, but after much thought, aside from autopsies, she only knew a bit about psychology. Fortunately, that wasn't too bloody, so Ran Yan started by talking about basic psychology.
Until one day, Liu Qingsong saw her muttering to herself in the corridor and quietly approached to listen for a while.
"Ran Yan, you're telling your baby this!" Liu Qingsong couldn't hold back any longer.
Ran Yan frowned, "Don't be so shocked."
"It's just, don't you have any common sense?" Liu Qingsong felt immense sympathy for the developing fetus, who hadn't even been born yet and had to endure such boring stuff.
"Common sense is, the baby can't understand what I'm talking about right now," Ran Yan gently stroked her abdomen.
