Yes, Mom, I was just discussing with Dad,” Tang Xuexian assured emphatically.
Two smiling faces looked so alike! She looked deeply. These two males, one big and one small, were her most intimate people in the world. Her husband and her son, the child she bore for Tang Huasheng. How miraculous, that the flesh and blood emerging from her body would resemble another person, forming an intimate blood relationship impossible to separate in life.
She had forgotten her initial fear, involuntarily reaching out both hands, one caressing Tang Huasheng, the other touching her son’s face, whispering softly and devoutly:
“You look so similar, life… is truly miraculous—” She was in awe.
Tang Huasheng also laughed, holding her small hand:
“Xuexian looks like both of us, no one would doubt this. He inherited your delicate features.”
Suddenly feeling somewhat superfluous, Tang Xuexian could only stare with wide round eyes, drifting between his parents’ gazes, trying to understand the atmosphere permeating the moment.
He was the “their” son, seemingly just an “accompanying” item.
The feeling of being excluded made him uncomfortable; he wanted to understand what his father was thinking, but—he would definitely choose a time when his mother wasn’t around, not wanting to see her sad or afraid.
When Tang Xuexian stood holding a pillow at Tang Huasheng’s bedroom door, he thoroughly demonstrated his unwavering determination to protect his mother.
Xiao Susu looked helplessly at her son, then turned to look at Tang Huasheng who had just emerged from the bathroom, not knowing what to do.
Finally, naturally, Tang Huasheng made the decision:
“Go to sleep early, you have school tomorrow.” He lifted a corner of the quilt, indicating his son could occupy his bed.
Tang Xuexian happily burrowed under the covers, quickly settling in.
“Goodnight, Dad.”
“Goodnight.” He leaned down and kissed his son, put on a robe, and prepared to go to the study without objection.
“You…” Susu softly exclaimed, not knowing why she spoke, a heavy sense of disappointment in her heart.
He gently patted her shoulder:
“We’re not night owls, don’t chat too late.”
This was good, sparing him from challenging his weak willpower. Seeing her sleeping in his bed, he realized how powerful his inner turmoil was; unless he possessed her, his body would not rest peacefully.
