"You eat slowly."

Ye Beicheng opened his chair and slowly went upstairs.

"Mom, look, look, in his heart, wife is always more important than you!"

Behind him was Ye Mengyao's voice of grievance. He pulled a sarcastic smile from his lips, Mom? It defiled the word.

Quietly lying on the toilet and spitting out everything she ate at night, Ye Beicheng was sitting feebly on the ground when she came in.

"Quiet and elegant."

He picked her up, took her to the sofa and sat down. He poured her a glass of boiled water. She took a big drink and felt a little comfortable in her stomach.

"Are you better?"...