Luo Zhiyong, bare-chested, got up to check on the two little ones, seeing that they were sound asleep, he carefully tucked in their blankets, then pulled Fang Pingying in for a cuddle, smiling, "Nope, they're sleeping well, knowing that mommy and daddy have important things to do, they didn't come to disturb us."
Fang Pingying blushed and punched him lightly on the chest.
Luo Zhiyong grabbed her hand, held her in his arms, and whispered with a sigh, "It feels so good to be back in our own home."
Fang Pingying felt the same way; even if her parental home was nice, it just couldn't compare to the comfort of her own house that the two of them had built together brick by brick – the significance was different.
After some affectionate cuddling, Fang Pingying leaned into Luo Zhiyong's embrace and started talking about family matters, "Zhiyong, I was thinking, after the New Year, Hong Lan will be almost nineteen, right?"
Luo Zhiyong nodded, "Pretty much, around eighteen or nineteen."
