Zaizai only knew that many people were talking to daddy in a criticizing manner, and they seemed very impolite.
His soft, milky voice was particularly grating amidst the clamor, unexpectedly making the reporters' voices abruptly stop.
"Zaizai!" By now, Jiayi was already half dead with rage from Huo Zhenyang, covering Zaizai's mouth—was he actually speaking up for this man? That's enough; does this kid even acknowledge her existence as his mommy anymore?
Huo Zhenyang was already smiling faintly, "Come here."
Jiayi was stunned; clearly, the words weren't for her, and sure enough, before she could recover, Zaizai had scurried over with a sound akin to a magnet attracting iron, his little chubby legs carrying him swiftly.
Huo Zhenyang gave Jiayi a casual glance, with an air of "you don't need to come over, as long as the son does," holding a son-means-everything demeanor as he lifted Zaizai with one arm.
All the reporters' eyes were on the father and son.
