Yang ruolin picked up the child in her arms. She lowered her head and looked at the child's extremely beautiful facial features. They were almost exactly the same as her, but she could not feel any emotion.
She gently stroked the child's soft hair, but the corners of her eyes began to turn cold.
In school, Zheng Anze was doing his homework. He wrote very quickly and almost never stopped writing. He was like a top student in this school. From fourth grade, he had jumped to fifth grade in a few weeks, then from fifth grade to first year of middle school. Even so, he could still continue to jump up a grade. Zheng Anze's name was almost like a legend. Even the rich second generation Lin Qing, who was in the limelight in the past, had been ruthlessly kicked by him. He stepped on the concrete floor.
His phone suddenly rang. He took it out and quickly put it to his ear when he saw the number on the screen.
