"What are you playing with?" Ye Zimo asked softly.

"Don't you see it? Playing with toys." Xiao Nianmo's unhappy reply.

Ye Zimo, a three-year-old child, could not imagine how he had influenced his illumination, but the strangeness in his words had deterred him from approaching.

Maybe as long as he holds his mother in his hand, he will be closer to himself.

You'll accept me! Ye Zimo thought in his heart, did not continue to ask, turned the wheelchair and left the room.

After he left, Xiao Nianmo dumped his toys and helplessly watched them thrown away by himself.

"What are you doing? Let me be confused." Like a little...