Yuan Zhengxin was very satisfied with Qiao Yu's performance.
It couldn't even be described as just very satisfied... The old man regretted, regretted that Qiao Yu wasn't his own grandson!
How wonderful it would be if this child were his own grandson.
Especially at this moment, as the sun was setting in the west, a ray of sunlight leaked through the window, bathing the child who was fully absorbed, making Qiao Yu resemble an angel coated in light.
The more he looked, the more he adored him.
To what extent did he adore him?
Let's put it this way: the old man got up to go to the bathroom. When he returned, he made some noise, alerting Qiao Yu. Qiao Yu raised his head blankly, his eyes unfocused, glanced in the direction of the noise, then immediately lowered his head to continue writing and drawing on the manuscript paper.
