Yan Ye felt as if a knife had been plunged into his chest!
He had gone through all the trouble of preparing formula milk for that little brat, just for the two words 'Daddy'!
Why was it so difficult?
Perhaps his own expression was too fierce?
Considering this, Yan Ye took a deep breath, softened his expression, and his voice became much gentler, "Xiaocheng, be good, call me Daddy, and I will give you milk."
Xiaocheng was still obliviously staring at the milk bottle, chanting like a spell, "Grandma! Grandma! I want to drink grandma's milk!"
Kneel!
After enduring two rounds of severe blows, Yan Ye threw the milk bottle to the little terror.
Then he lay on the bed, exhaling, inhaling, exhaling... adjusting his emotions.
Xiaocheng held the milk bottle with both hands, eyes unblinking as he watched his uncle's chest rise and fall dramatically.
He then turned his head to glance at his mother, who was sound asleep.
