Fu Zhimei touched my stomach, stared at the undulating stomach, his eyes were particularly soft,

"Little thing, he did not toss you?"

Fu Zhiyu's finger struck me twice in the stomach. He hated him saying this about my baby and pulled off his toying fingers.

"No, he's very good."

"That's my seed, of course, smart." Fu Zhiyu proudly said that this is not to boast about the baby, but to boast about himself.

"Can you stop facing me a little more? That's my baby, follow me."

"Would it be in your stomach without me?" Fu Zhimei is proud and coquettish, regardless of what occasion it is, he is complacent.

Old...