Rong Mochen's smile grew wider, his gaze swept over the remote control airplane on the table in front of the sofa, the black eyes narrowed slightly. He leaned in and picked up the airplane from the table, "Do you like airplanes?"
Hanhan curled his lips, slowly turned his neck, glanced at him, and reached out to take the airplane from his hand, "This is the birthday gift Uncle Ying gave me last year."
"..." With those words, the warmth on Rong Mochen's face vanished uncontrollably. He coldly looked at the remote control airplane Hanhan held in his hand, his tone slightly sour, "What's a remote control airplane? Someday I'll buy you a real airplane."
A real airplane?
Hanhan's eyes brightened, then squinted, pretending to be indifferent and uninterested, said coldly, "I just like the remote-control airplane Uncle Ying gave me."
