Young Master’s Favorite, Where is She Going?
Chapter 1351: He doesn't know what to do
Jun Moyan looked at the sad little guy who was crying, and when he heard his sensible words, his heart hurts and his face turned pale.
Tsing Yi, who was driving, raised his hand and wiped his tears quietly, and his heart was also uncomfortable.
"Dad didn't lie to An An. Mom likes Dad and An An the most. She won't want us and will definitely come back."
Jun Moyan lifted the little guy from his lap and hugged him in his arms, soothing in a dumb voice, but he couldn't breathe.
"Dad lied, Shangguan's dad also lied, you all lied to An An, mom never came back, oooo..."
Jun Moyan held him with the sad cry of the little guy in his ears. He looked at the backward scenery outside the car window with confusion, pain and helplessness in his eyes.
He didn't know what to do, or even how to comfort the child, and convince him that his mother would come back.
The hope in his heart was extinguished a little bit, and he seemed to be dying gradually, and he had been holding on every day.
He is too busy to take care of himself now, he doesn't know whether he should be fortunate or unlucky.
Because if there is no An'an, he doesn't know what will become of him after waiting for a full three years.
The soul-suppressing beast has lived for hundreds of thousands of years.
However, Jun Moyan has a copper heart and iron bones since he was a child, and he looked down on the human world.
They have never experienced anything, but now he is more incompetent than an ordinary person.
He didn't know how long he had to wait, he didn't know if he could wait any longer, he didn't know if what was waiting was reunion or despair, and he didn't know whether An An was salvation or restraint for him.
Because there is no child, he can't finish this life himself, and he is afraid that in the end, because of the child, he will not even have a choice.
The little guy lay on his shoulder and kept crying. The more he cried, the more sad he became. He cried to the door of the house.
Jun Moyan just hugged him like that, sat in the car, stared out the car window blankly, and didn't get down.
Tsing Yi didn't dare to disturb him.
Until the night enveloped, the little guy was tired from crying and fell asleep, so Jun Moyan took his schoolbag, hugged him and got out of the car and went upstairs.
"What's the matter? The Third Young Master and Young Master are okay?" Xiaocha, who was worried all night, looked at Jun Moyan who was holding the little guy upstairs, and asked Qing Yi worriedly.
"It's okay, you go to heat up the food and bring it to the third young master. The young master will probably eat it later."
"it is good."
Jun Moyan took the little guy back to his room, took off his shoes, put him on the bed, wiped his tears, and then went into the bathroom and wrung a wet towel out.
When he came to the bed and sat down, he gently wiped the tears on the little guy, looking at his crying eyes, he touched it distressedly.
The little guy cried so sad that he would sob from time to time even if he fell asleep now.
Wipe his face clean, Jun Moyan saw the lollipop in his hand and wanted to remove it for him, but the little guy held on tightly.
Jun Moyan tried a few times, but didn't remove it, so he didn't continue. He looked at the lollipop, started rubbing the candy with his fingers, his thoughts slowly drifting away.
Slowly, the surrounding air seemed to be immersed in sorrow. He sat alone by the bed, quietly looking at Tang, guarding the child, which made people feel distressed.
"Fuck"
Probably because he lowered his head, the tears fell too easily, so they fell and hit the back of his own hand.
He didn't seem to notice it, still looking at the candy in the little guy's hand, but his vision became increasingly blurred.
The Soul Suppressing Beast has no emotions, no tears. In those hundreds of thousands of years, he lived as a god, never bowed his head or moved his desires.
And Jun Moyan is also a "hard-hearted" person. In the past two decades, he has shed very few tears.
He really rarely cries.
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