Every morning when Jiu Jiu wakes up, he always sees Nan Wan.
It's Nan Wan who dresses him, feeds him milk and meals, and plays with toys with him.
This affection crept in without notice, even Nan Wan didn't realize from which day her son started to actively ask to be held by her, or to tell her some unclear words.
Jiu Jiu clung to Nan Wan's neck, pouting, "Jiu Jiu... hungry."
Hungry...
Nan Wan paused in her steps, asked the maid beside her, "Didn't Jiu Jiu eat?"
The maid answered uneasily, "Madam, before you left, you promised the young master you would make egg custard for him yourself. No matter how we coaxed him, the young master wouldn't eat."
It's already past seven now.
Hearing what the maid said, and after feeling the soft little boy leaning on her shoulder, Nan Wan's heart softened instantly like a lake in springtime.
"Son, are you doing this on purpose to make mommy feel guilty?"
More than helplessness, there was a happiness that comes with being needed.
