Zhao Ruolan laughed and glanced at Cheng Weiyue, speaking with a rare fondness, "You still know how to be concerned about me? I thought once you could earn money on your own, you wouldn't need your old mom anymore!"
"That'll never happen! Mom will always be the best and most important!" Cheng Weiyue sweetly cooed like honey on her lips.
Their conversation was neither too close nor too distant, just enough for Zhou Jingwei, who was sitting in the courtyard, to hear everything clearly. His lips curled slightly, and at that moment, he felt a sense of serene contentment.
Cheng Weiyue lay on the sofa, watching Zhao Ruolan knit a sweater, and before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.
Zhao Ruolan took a thin blanket from the side and covered her with it.
It wasn't until around four in the afternoon, when a light snow began to fall from the sky, that Zhou Jingwei narrowly lost to Cheng Cunzheng.
