If Da Yu hadn't said so, Tang Mo would have never guessed that the grimy little girl crawling around on the bed was already three years old.
A bloated stomach and spindly limbs—the most typical signs of malnutrition.
"Brother."
Seeing Da Yu had returned, the little girl started crawling toward him, but a rope tied to her arm held her back. Her movements restricted, tears of frustration welled up in her eyes.
Da Yu put down the rice, untied the rope from his sister's arm, and scooped Xiao Yu into his arms.
"Sorry about that. I'm usually not home, and Xiao Yu is too young. I don't have any other choice."
Da Yu explained, looking a little embarrassed.
Tang Mo nodded. She completely understood.
'For a fifteen-year-old kid to manage all this is already incredible.'
"Your room is next door. Please make yourself at home. Xiao Yu and I won't bother you."
Da Yu was very polite; you could tell he was a well-raised child.
