Following Qiao Xinran's gaze, it was only then that Mo Yichen noticed the little one, and for a moment, his breath hitched.
In the goose-yellow swaddle lay a little guy, his eyes closed in sleep, his damp black hair clinging to his scalp, and his little face red and wrinkly.
Even so, Mo Yichen still felt that he was the most beautiful child in the world.
"Yichen, this is our son, hold him..."
She spoke softly, remembering how Vivian had held the baby up for her to see, Qiao Xinran wrinkled her nose, "He's so ugly, and his eyes are so small, do you think he'll grow up to be not handsome at all?"
"Silly girl..."
With an indulgent chuckle, Mo Yichen reached out to hold his son, but as soon as he touched the baby's soft body, he immediately withdrew his hand.
He was so small, so soft, that Mo Yichen felt he didn't even dare to hold him for fear of hurting him.