"Woo woo."
Little Baby sensed her hesitation and pouted with a grievance, then began to sob again.
"Hey, hey, don't cry. I'll hold you."
Su Qingluo was momentarily flustered and instinctively reached forward to hold the little one in her arms.
Little Baby was lighter than she had imagined, feeling as light as a newly born civet kitten in her arms, without any pressure.
Poor little fellow, the poisoning had worn his body down.
As she let out a sigh of relief, she also felt a pang of heartache. She jumped down from the carriage, carefully holding him in her arms to shield his eyes, so he wouldn't see the bloody scene outside.
Little Baby's soft and cute body trembled slightly, his small hand clutching her clothes tightly, his tear-streaked face pressed against her chest.
The subtle fragrance unique to little girls drifted into her nose unintentionally, carrying a hint of sweetness, provoking thoughts.
