"Mm, it doesn't hurt anymore." Si Yu looked at his daughter lovingly, held Chenchen's hand and said, "Chenchen, where's the painting you made for Daddy?"
"I didn't bring it." Chenchen lowered her head. She had left in such a hurry that she forgot to bring it.
"Grandma, I want to paint." Chenchen turned and ran over to Zhang Hualian.
Nearby, Zaozao took a painting out of his small backpack.
Chenchen, who had just been pouting, immediately broke into a smile and said, "Brother is so nice."
Chenchen excitedly took the painting and placed it in front of Si Yu.
In the golden sunlight, a family of four held hands: a man in a white shirt, a woman in a white dress, holding two children of the same height, one with pigtails and the other a short-haired boy. It was a painting of their family of four.
The painting skills were immature, but it was full of childlike charm.
"My Chenchen's painting is wonderful." Si Yu praised. It was the best painting he had ever seen.
