Rong Zhuo's eyes brimmed with indulgent laughter as he quickly put away the toy knife in his hand, not wanting to scare his dear mother.
His voice, like pearls falling on a jade plate, was cold and resplendent, yet laced with threads of pleasure, "It's the old leg problem, it hurts when the weather gets cold."
Those words were half true, half false. His leg did have a minor issue, diagnosed by a traditional Chinese medicine practitioner as rheumatism, but it wasn't serious and didn't affect walking at all.
Actually, he wanted to say that this was a feature exclusive to bosses, to make her realize he wasn't ordinary and thus look at him with new respect, perhaps even etch him into her memory.
Lan Jin nodded in understanding, seemingly convinced he suffered from a very serious case of rheumatism, otherwise he wouldn't need a wheelchair.
No wonder she always saw Rong Mu pushing a wheelchair; that explained it.
