"How could it be that just because you say our daughter likes someone, she actually will?" Jian Shichu pinched her cheek, "You're too idealistic. What if she falls for a man of poor character in the future, then you'll be the one crying!"
"No way!" Ye Qingci's hand teased him, "Our dear daughter of Seventh Master Jian is bound to have impeccable taste. How could she possibly fall for a man of poor character? That's absolutely impossible!"
"Alright, stop flattering your husband already," Jian Shichu patted her cheek, "About having a daughter, don't even think about it; I disagree!"
Ye Qingci got angry, rolled off him, and lay on the bed with her back to him, ignoring him.
Jian Shichu sighed, embraced her from behind, and said softly, "Wife, if I were the one giving birth, ten or eight kids would be no problem. But you giving birth, I really can't bear it."
His magnetic, gentle voice echoed in Ye Qingci's ear, filled with indescribable tenderness and affection.
