Huo Jingting looked into his son's eager eyes and, without hesitation, tilted his head back and finished the remaining half cup.
Chengcheng's childlike face blossomed into a smile as he looked up and asked, "Daddy, is it tasty?"
"It's tasty." Huo Jingting placed the child on the bed and comforted him softly, "Chengcheng, it's getting late now, time to go to sleep."
Chengcheng lifted his gaze towards Lin Qingge, who winked and flashed a satisfied smile at him.
The child didn't understand, he was just doing what she told him, without thinking anything more of it.
Huo Jingting pulled the blanket over him, Chengcheng curled up in the warmth of the covers, but clung to his arm and wouldn't let go. "Daddy, I want to hear a story."
A story?
Huo Jingting really didn't know any stories; his own childhood hadn't been so fortunate. He'd rarely heard any stories as a child, and after so many years he had completely forgotten them, not knowing how to tell one.
