"He stopped crying?" Jian Luo was surprised.
Quan Mingxuan smiled and leaned in close to Quan Jingwu, negotiating, "Jingwu, let me hold him too. I haven't had the chance to hold my nephew yet."
Quan Jingwu glanced at him sideways, his voice cool, "Didn't you just want to give my son a nickname called 'Three-Eight'?"
Pfft, that struck a nerve.
Quan Mingxuan's outstretched hand froze mid-air. Was he really holding a grudge?
"I didn't, I think Seventeen and Nineteen are very good nicknames. If you guys have a daughter in the future, you can call her Eighteen. There's a saying that goes, 'a girl is like a flower at eighteen'."
The more he explained, the darker Quan Jingwu's face grew.
Such vulgar names could never suit his little padded jacket.
He shot a cold glance at him, his voice icy, "You'd better save that for your daughter."
Then his son could be called Goudan, and his daughter Eighteen. Couldn't be more perfect.
