"Lu, brother, you sure are a lucky man!" Wang Zhengguo couldn't help remarking during dinner.
Lu's father grinned proudly, "Thanks to your good luck, brother, that we're enjoying these harmonious family moments."
Wang Zhengguo glanced at Xibao. The little fellow was sitting in Feng Qingxue's arms, stretching his chubby hands with great effort towards the bowl of golden pumpkin rice on the table, just in front of Feng Qingxue. His reach always fell short of the bowl, while drool dripped down onto his bib. Overwhelmed by the aroma of the meal, he cried out in urgency, "Ah ah ah!"
"Mama made you fish soup, sweetie. Why don't you let papa hold you while mama makes you some noodles?"
And so, Xibao, moved to Lu Jiang's lap, did not resist and obediently opened his big round eyes.
