Chapter 68 Momo, I hate my mom...

The light in the room was dim, and the small bulge on the small bed was wrinkled.

He Cong carefully pulled the quilt aside, and the little guy curled up into a small circle, not sleeping well, as if he had a bad nightmare. His red face was wet, and it was obvious that he cried in his sleep.

In addition, he coughed violently in succession, causing his shoulders to twitch and tremble. He was like an uneasy and frightened chick, and subconsciously wanted to curl himself up deep in the quilt.

He Cong frowned at the sight, and leaned over to pick up He Zhimo from the bed.

His long arms supported the cub's soft body, and he lowered his head slightly and used his other hand to carefully wipe the wet tear marks on the little guy's face.

Shang Youqing followed him in, and she looked a little embarrassed and distressed when she saw this scene. She couldn't help but reach out her hand.

However, just as she was about to touch He Zhimo's forehead, held in He Cong's arms, He Cong glanced over with a cold, gloomy look, as if warning her.

Shang Youqing, her hands suspended in the air, opened her mouth to explain, "I just wanted to feel He Zhimo to see if he had a fever."

He Cong: "Before you came over, I just coaxed him to sleep with fever-reducing medicine."

Shang Youqing paused. "Is it because of me?"

He Cong brushed the fur on the cub's cheeks, which was matted with tears, and said in a cold tone: "It was raining so hard, and he insisted on waiting at the banquet hall door for someone who didn't keep his promise, waiting from day to night. Isn't it normal for him to get sick and have a fever?"

Shang Youqing fell silent again.

She stood silently beside He Cong, watching him hold the sick cub for a while with a sullen expression, and couldn't help but reach out again. "Can I hold him for a while?"

He Cong didn't give her any, but only took a moment to sneer in between coaxing the cub.

"Now you've remembered that He Zhimo is your son too?"

Shang Youqing: "..."

Seeing she remained silent, He Cong slowly raised his eyes and stared at her, his thin lips sternly opening. "You coax him whenever you're happy, and then you say you don't want him anymore. It's the same with me and Momo. Do you, Shang Youqing, have any sincerity left in your words?"

Shang Youqing resisted the urge to snatch the chick from his hands and spoke softly, lowering her voice. "I don't deny that I've done things that hurt you and Momo, but I just want to make amends to Momo and get his fever down as soon as possible. If you're still angry, can you please consider the situation?"

After a few seconds, He Cong seemed to snort coldly, and finally, with a sullen face, he held the chick to her.

Shang Youqing carefully took He Zhimo, her palm and fingertips gently touching the little fellow's forehead. Confirming it was just a common fever, the heart that had been hanging in the air since entering the room finally settled slightly.

She began to use her weak spiritual energy to heal the burning chick, hoping to quickly reduce the fever and heal.

In a daze, He Zhimo felt his slightly burning little body resting in a warm nest. Instinctively, like a phoenix chick, the little creature couldn't let go, wanting to burrow deeper.

But then, for some reason, a strange itch tingled beneath his eyes. He Zhimo muttered, raised his hand to scratch, but only to tug at a thin, downy feather.

For a moment, He Zhimo could hear the cold, heartless words slamming down from above: "His phoenix blood isn't pure enough. What's the point of such an offspring?" His eyelashes trembled violently, and tears, like beads of water on a string, clung to his delicate cheekbones. He choked out a sob in his sleep, "I hate you..."

"What?"

Shang Youqing saw He Zhimo curled up in her arms, tears streaming silently, his hands clutching the corner of her clothes, mumbling something incoherent.

Thinking that the little guy was in pain, Shang Youqing leaned closer to his face worriedly, but heard a thin and vague baby voice, "Momo, you hate your mother..."

Shang Youqing lowered her eyes and looked at He Zhimo's little face so close to her, and her throat rolled and swallowed slowly.

Finally, she realized that it was because she was holding the little guy that the little guy was crying in his sleep due to stress...

Shang Youqing slowed down her movements until the baby in her arms gradually lost its heat and its body temperature returned to normal. Only then did she force herself to return to a cold expression, holding the baby and getting up from the edge of the bed, making a gesture to hold He Zhimo back to He Cong.

"Okay, you hold Momo, and he will be fine after he has a good sleep and wakes up."

She said in a calm voice with her eyes downcast, without looking at He Cong.

However, He Cong didn't seem to be reaching for the child. He stood calmly, staring at her and asking, "And then?"

Shang Youqing didn't react, but finally raised her eyes: "What then?"

"After making up for that so-called guilt you feel, you're so eager to throw Momo back to me, huh?"

Shang Youqing tilted her head slightly, her eyes coldly cast on the dim light in the room.

After waiting for a moment, seeing that He Cong still didn't intend to take over, she silently carried the cub back to the crib and gently tucked it in before standing up again.

She gently placed the birthday present she had brought all the way through the rain on the table and said calmly, "This is Momo's birthday present. If you don't want to give it to Momo, or if Momo doesn't want it, you can throw it away." After a pause,

she glanced back calmly. "Sorry to bother you so late,"

Shang Youqing said, and without waiting for He Cong to reply, she turned and left.

She emerged from her room, the dim glow of the wall lamps on either side of the corridor casting a shadow on her. Shang Youqing felt an inexplicable chill creep into her skin, her mind filled with thoughts of her little phoenix baby, who even in his sleep cried and said he hated her...

However, after taking only a few steps, her entire slender body was suddenly and forcefully pressed against the corridor wall from behind.

He Cong's warm, strong hands clamped from her chin to her neck. Shang Youqing's brain was sluggish, and she was unable to react for a moment, practically forced to look up at him.

He Cong lowered his head and touched the tip of her nose, his dark eyes were filled with a violent emotion that had not been seen for a long time, his voice was low and hoarse, cruel and vicious: "You have the final say in everything? I come when you call me and I send me away when you dismiss me, Shang Youqing, who do you take me for?"

Shang Youqing narrowed her eyes, and before she could speak, He Cong's deep and cold face came closer. He Cong's other slender hand passed through her loose black hair, covered the skin on the back of her neck, and pressed her to him. His

high nose rubbed down from her eyebrows, and his thin and hot lips caressed her all the way as if he was about to kiss her, but his breathing was suppressed and heavy.

"But if you really don't care, why did you come here in the rain late at night, and why did you give Mo Mo a birthday present? Shang Youqing, you lied to me, you lied to me before, right? You are actually just-"