After tucking Tutu in, Pei Chenyang pointed to the balcony, motioning to talk outside.
Knowing he was worried about waking their daughter, Zhao Mengmeng frowned, then followed him out.
The night wind was strong and chilly, sending a cold shiver through her body.
Pei Chenyang turned back inside, fetched a shawl, and shut the balcony door behind him.
"Pei Chenyang, tell me, when did you start thinking about adopting a child?" Zhao Mengmeng sat down on a chair, her anger flaring up.
Still stung by their daughter's earlier reaction, Zhao Mengmeng's frustration hadn't subsided, and Pei Chenyang felt that he must truly be out of his mind.
"Mengmeng, let me explain."
Zhao Mengmeng sneered, "I'm listening. Go ahead. Such a significant matter, and you didn't even bother discussing it with me? Adoption? Impressive, Pei Chenyang!"
It wasn't about liking or disliking the child—it was the feeling of being kept in the dark that absolutely didn't sit well with her.
