President spoils the dark wife

"Oh, little girl, are you crying?"

Looking at Mo Yiran's reddish eyes, the old man seemed to have guessed something and smiled.

"I had an argument with my husband today. He hit me."

He sucked his nose with dye and said wrongly.

After hearing the speech, the old man's smile was dull for a moment. Then he gathered a smile and kept shaking his head and sighing: "today's young people are impetuous and have no grace bottom line. If they don't work hard, they have to anger their wives and children."

Yiran holds back her smile, but she is forced to be sad on her face.

The old man guessed that Mo Yiran thought he was dead, so he cried.

However, Mo Yiran was so quick that she immediately showed her back move.

"What chess are you playing today?"

Mo Yiran returned to his former state. Seeing that the old man was empty handed, he could not help but wonder.

The old man and Mo Yiran walked back to the stone table side by side. The cold wind blew to the bone and set off the woman's dark black hair.

"I won't play chess today. I'll introduce you to someone."

"Introducer?"

Mo Yiran raised his eyebrows and was quite interested. He put his elbows on the stone table, supported his sharp chin on the back of his smooth hands, and looked at the mysterious old man on the opposite face quietly with clear eyes.

"Ranran, why don't you introduce me to him first?"

Suddenly, a box fell on the stone table.

The hand on the handle of the box is well proportioned, with slender and powerful fingers, white and distinct bones, slightly cold.

Up along the arm, the man is symmetrical and full of royal nobility.

Only a pair of eyes narrowed into two fine cracks from time to time reveal the ruthless nature of the heart.

The clouds are gradually closing in the evening, and the sky is light with colored glass.

The man stood under the snow covered tree, his hair was as light as black jade, and the skin at his neck was as fine as beautiful porcelain.

"Ink?"

Mo Yiran raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise. Then she looked over the scenery and ink looked at the flower spring behind him.

The heart is clear, and a faint smile appears on his face.

"Little girl, is this your husband?"

The old man asked with a smile.

"Husband?" Jing mowen raised his eyebrows and looked at Mo Yiran with interest.

HuaQuan, who was thin and tall in the back, looked indifferent and hung high.

Yiran hooked her lips, "Hmm", stood up, took Jing mowen's arm and said to the old man, "this is my husband."

The old man gave a long "Oh", looked at Jing mowen's face slightly cold, and smiled coldly.

Jing mowen focused on what Mo Yiran had just said. He was happy and forgot himself for a moment. He didn't notice the change of the old man's facial expression.

"I don't know what to call it?"

As soon as the old man's voice fell, Mo Yiran said, "his surname is Jing. Sir, just call him Xiaojing."

"HMM." Jing Mo Wen was absent-minded. Then he came back and looked at Mo Yiran in surprise: "hmm?"

Before Jing mowen had a chance to speak, the old man impolitely began to rely on the old and sell the old, with a kind smile: "Xiaojing, I don't know why I'm here today..."

Jing mowen no longer tangled in the title, and glanced at HuaQuan faintly.

Hua Quan understood and went to the opposite side of Jing mowen. The two sat down at the same time.

"Sir, I heard that Ranran always loses miserably in our family, but you always set the rules. I'm afraid it's not very good. Why don't you play something interesting today, which is suitable for your age?"

The old man pulled out of the corner of his eye and vaguely had a bad feeling, but he still wanted face and said with a smile: "OK."

Then Jing mowen opened the box and it was a pair of mahjong.

Mo Yiran is stunned. What exactly does Jing mowen want?

Twenty minutes later, looking at Jing Mo Wen who kept suppressing the old man, don't worry about it.

Mo Yiran can play mahjong, but it can't compare with Jing mowen and HuaQuan.

But after all, it's a family. These two people keep giving it water. Mo Yiran won one after another. He's in a rare good mood in recent days.

"You, you!"

The old man has been losing, blowing his beard and staring angrily.

I know in my heart that they are giving Mo Yiran water, but I have no choice.

"Oh, very happy?"

The old voice suddenly sounded nearby, like a red bell, bright and hard.

"Ah! Old companion, you finally came. These three people bullied my lonely old man!"

Mo Yiran listens to the cold behind her.

Old, old company?

The three looked up at the same time.

The visitor is medium and high, nearly 1.8 meters. In his sixties, although his face has the lines of vicissitudes of years, it makes the old man look more attractive.

Different from the old man's carelessness, the visitor's feet are wearing shiny black leather shoes, which are very valuable.

A dark blue striped suit, dressed in the same dark long clothes, gray hair combed back, very rigorous.

Looking at the old man in front of him, Mo Yiran seemed to be able to see the scenery and ink in the twilight.

"I can't blame the younger generation for bullying you?"

The old man in the suit glanced at the old man faintly. Then he took off his coat and put it on the old man. At the same time, he sat opposite Mo Yiran, which was where the old man sat just now.

"I've been away for a few weeks, and you've been like this!"

Mo Yiran looked thoughtfully at the two old men, meaningfully hooked his lips and said with a smile: "continue?"

The old man in the striped suit didn't lift his head, and his tone was cold: "continue."

Then, the cold wind cleared the snow. In the snow, fog, wind and frost, Mo Yiran suffered an unprecedented heavy blow.

Jing mowen looked at the complacent old man, looked at the striped suit and frowned slightly.

He was silent.

Mo Yiran carefully looked at the ink text.

Jing mowen has always been proud. I'm afraid he hasn't suffered such humiliation.

So he stretched out his hand and gently patted the man on the shoulder to comfort: "life is about ups and downs. No one is smooth sailing."

"Shut up!"

Hua Quan's eyes turned white and Mo Yiran immediately stared back.

Hua Quan snorted coldly. Don't look at Mo Yiran.

"What assistant you hired, Mo Wen, knows to hum at me like a pig all day. What's the quirk?"

With a slight hook on one lip corner, the skin laughs and the flesh doesn't laugh.

"You..."

Hua Quan was speechless and turned away.

"I just offended the younger generation."

Jing mowen turned his head and said to the old man with a calm face.

Neither humble nor arrogant, neither the shame and anger of being killed, nor unwilling arrogance.

The other party nodded and said in a low voice, "young people should not be too arrogant. They can eat more salt for decades than you."

Jing mowen smiled and didn't reply.

"Mrs. Jing, you just beat me for so long, but your anger is gone?"

The boss asked Mo Yiran with a smile.

Mo Yiran looked at the old man and immediately understood.

He's talking about his wife.

Just now, the striped suit said he was going away. It seems that he had a wrong understanding, but the old man was afraid of loneliness. He pretended not to know. He followed Mo Yiran's words and didn't explain. He asked Yiran to continue his misunderstanding, and then felt pity to play chess with him.

What a cunning old man.

So just now, he also deliberately let himself go with Jingmo Wenhua spring?