Chi Huan gritted his teeth, and after a pause, she clutched the man's shirt in anger and said, "Mo Shiqian, you didn't wear..."
Mo Shiqian lifted her chin, leaned down to kiss her, his voice low and husky, "Mhm, I wasn't prepared... If it happens, should we have it? I'm thirty years old now, Huanhuan."
Her heart stirred at his words, and she suddenly remembered Little Mangguo, who had called him 'Dad' for a few years, and the child they had lost, her resolve somewhat slackening.
But a few seconds later, the remaining shreds of rationality took over, and she struggled to say intermittently, "No... It's not possible..."
The woman's voice wasn't loud, nor very determined, but Mo Shiqian still heard it, as if his nerves had been pricked. His movements, which were entangled with fiery impulse and couldn't stop a second ago, suddenly halted.
