Xiaomo heard his mom ask and, worried that she would get concerned, continued to straighten his little body. "Anyway, I don't feel anything."
While he said this, one of his hands was wrecking the black shirt on Fu Chengzhou's body, almost beyond recognition.
The stubborn, tough-guy expression, which was a mix of pride and pain, had the audience both crying and laughing.
"Who would have thought my Brother Xiaomo was so concerned about face."
"Brother Xiaomo says, 'I'm not in pain,' but my heart is already crying."
"Okay." The doctor had finished dressing Little Mobao's wound and stood up. "Remember not to get it wet for the next few days. Rest well, there's no major problem."
"But I still have to record the show!" the little guy said.
"That's not a big problem." the doctor added. "Anyway, you're a child, your daddy can carry you more."
Carry more by daddy?
The little guy looked extremely uncomfortable. "He doesn't want to hold me, he wants to hold my mommy more."
