"Uncle, why is the monitoring light still on?" The little one's soft, childish voice drifted into Bai Yan's ears, instantly smoothing out his morning grumpiness.
Bai Yan nudged his cheek, casually picked up his pack of cigarettes and lit one, "Messing around right under your mom's nose, you think she won't notice?"
The little one lowered his head, looking somewhat regretful, "Oh well, bye Uncle."
Before Bai Yan could even say goodbye, the call was hung up.
This is Li Qiao's good son, just like his annoying mom, exactly the same.
Ten minutes later, the little one set off, struggling to hold his small quilt in his arms.
He walked slowly and carefully, trudging to the kitchen door with little beads of sweat forming on his small nose.
The little one groped his way in the dark into the kitchen, placed the small blanket on the floor, stood on tiptoe to open the cupboard taller than him, then squatted down and crawled inside.
