I studied the child's sleeping face.
He was sleeping in my arms, his small, warm body a heavy, confusing weight against my chest. As the car moved in silence, I thought, 'Is this what they call baby fever?'
He was beautiful, with thick, dark lashes, plump cheeks, and a perfect bow of a mouth. But I couldn't stop staring at his features. If Yichen and I were to birth a baby, would he be as beautiful as Roushi?
My mind immediately snapped back to reality, what the hell was I think ing about right now?
He didn't have Mo Yichen's sharp, defined jawline, or his straight nose. He had been described as a miniature replica of Yichen, but up close, I saw only soft features of his mother, Zhu Ri.
If her heart wasn't vile and wicked, she would have enjoyed her time with her son, wherever she came from.
