"Your son?"
"Yes, sorry to disappoint you, but you're late. My son is already five years old, he can even fetch soy sauce."
An Ziqi didn't seem very sincere in her response.
"Yours?" Simon didn't seem convinced.
"If I didn't give birth to him, did you?"
An Ziqi retorts, having long since thought of Ningning as her own son.
There's no harm in saying that.
Simon, however, seemed to be thinking about something, his brows furrowing.
Seeing him frown, An Ziqi finally felt a sense of satisfaction.
Always her on the losing end, it was finally his turn.
She looked out of the window, feeling pleased.
Simon frowned in thought for a while, then casually asked, "Do you still remember when you went to Paris?"
An Ziqi turned her head to look at him, "Six years ago, why? You're going to say you were in Paris six years ago too?"
"I've always been there." Simon shrugged, indifferent to her sarcastic comment. "When did you return to the country?"
