"...Yes." She quickly lowered her head and hurried out of the room.
Lin Xinlan was sitting on the sofa, holding Xiaocong and whispering into his ear to make him happy. When she saw Rong Shaoze standing in front of her, she immediately turned cold, her gaze indifferently meeting his.
Rong Shaoze felt guilty under her stare, and his confidence dipped.
He glanced at her and had no choice but to shift his gaze to Xiaocong, staring intently at him.
The features of the little boy closely resembled his own. A strong intuition told him that the child was his, absolutely his.
But who could tell him when this child was born, how he had grown up?
If he didn't know he was sensible and of sound mind, he would definitely suspect he had split personality disorder. Or perhaps, this world had become fantastical.
Rong Shaoze's gaze was sharp, and no one could remain composed and indifferent under it.
