Chapter 70: Dad, I want to return the gift to her face to face!

He Zhimo approached, tiptoeing, his head tilted upwards, intently examining the beautiful gift bag on the table for a moment. Unable to resist, he took it down.

Crouching down, he carefully untied the bow that tied the bag. A faint floral scent emanated from the opening.

He Zhimo carefully lowered his face, sniffing from nose to lips, almost thrusting his head inside.

Finally, he faintly caught a whiff of that familiar, cold aroma mingled with the floral fragrance.

He Zhimo's large, hazy eyes fluttered slightly, and he bit the soft flesh of his mouth. As if realizing something,

he quickly dropped the gift bag to the ground and stood up with a stern expression. His legs were straight, his shoulders straight, his back facing the gift bag he had tossed to the ground. His hands clenched and tightened, his eyes fixed on the patterned wall before him, his chest heaving with anger.

However, He Zhimo only stood there for less than half a minute before he couldn't help but turn back awkwardly. He glanced sternly at the slightly tilted gift bag on the ground, pursed his lips, and turned back.

He squatted down again, righted the nearly tilted gift bag, and peered into the already opened bag, reaching out his little hand to pry open the opening.

He just wanted to see what was inside.

He Zhimo thought this coldly as he took out the exquisitely wrapped box.

He Zhimo followed the cutely painted instructions on the box, carefully opening it layer by layer. With a click, the box opened.

A proud and majestic plush bird stood on the round tray.

The little bird's mane was woven with his favorite bow tie pattern, and its two small wings were adorned with cream-colored lanyard rings.

It was a small plush pendant that could be attached directly to a school bag.

He Zhimo lowered his little face and stared at the plush chick in unusual silence, tears gradually filling his eyes.

At this moment, there was a sound of approaching footsteps at the door. He Zhimo raised his little hand and rubbed his eyes vigorously, then hastily put the small plush ornament back into the gift bag.

Just then, He Cong knocked on the door and walked in. He saw He Zhimo standing by the table with red eyes, holding the already opened gift bag in his hands.

He Cong retracted his gaze and did not ask anything immediately. He just walked to the side of his youngest son, put out his hand to cover He Zhimo's forehead and touched it for a moment before saying, "The fever is gone."

As soon as his father's hand was removed, He Zhimo couldn't help but raise his head. He glanced at the gift in his arms with a deliberately nonchalant look and asked, "Dad, who gave this to you?"

"Shang Youqing."

He Cong's tone was still indifferent when he read out these three words, but he did not intend to hide it from his youngest son. He told him that Shang Youqing came here to give a gift last night.

He Zhimo put the gift back on the table without a word, his hands coldly clasped behind his back. "I don't want it!"

He Cong, still shrouded in a gloom, didn't even have the energy to coax his son. He replied calmly, "Then don't."

He said he would take He Zhimo downstairs for breakfast, but just as he reached out his hand, He Zhimo's eyes flushed as he looked at the gift on the table. He pursed his lips, unwilling to give up.

"Liar! She waited until my birthday was over before she remembered to give me a gift. I don't want her birthday gift! I don't want it at all!"

He roared like a little beast, and then took the gift he had just placed on the table back into his arms. "Dad, take me to find Shang Youqing right now. I want to return the gift to her in person!"

He Cong said, "If she told you not to, throw it away yourself."

He Zhimo choked at these words and raised his head unhappily, but he noticed that something seemed off about his father.

It should be said that his father's expression hadn't fluctuated since he came in, and he looked like he hadn't slept well.

He Zhimo finally shifted his focus from the gift in his arms, looking up with some concern and asking, "Dad, what's wrong with you?"

He Cong naturally didn't say a word about himself and Shang Youqing. He said, "It's nothing," his eyes lightly glancing at the gift tightly held in the cub's little hands, "Put the things away, and go downstairs for breakfast."

He Zhimo hesitated for a moment, and had to carefully place the gift in the innermost, safest place on the table. Then, with a serious face, he said, "Dad, remember not to let anyone touch this gift. I'm waiting to return it to Shang Youqing."

He Cong didn't even blink, "Yeah."

Even after going downstairs to the restaurant for dinner, He Zhimo kept looking back in the direction of his room upstairs, as if afraid that his gift would disappear if he wasn't paying attention.

And just as He Zhimo was absent-mindedly chewing on his noodles, He Cong, who was sitting opposite him, had just received a three-page dossier sent by Yu Zhu.

While dining with his young son, He Cong scrutinized the three pages of information on his tablet. Only after thoroughly understanding the profile of the Asian arms dealer named Mu did he pull out his phone.

While dialing Yu Zhu, he personally poured He Zhimo a bowl of lukewarm pear soup.

After the call connected, He Cong calmly settled back into his seat, tapped the tablet beside him, and asked bluntly, "Was it she who called you last night to ask for the address of the villa?"

He Zhimo, who had been sipping his pear soup docilely, involuntarily slowed down at the word "her," listening intently, his ears pricked up, almost holding his breath as he listened intently to the call going on across the table.

Yu Zhu, on the other end of the line, called out "Mr. He," then froze, unsure how to respond.

Fortunately, He Cong quickly continued lightly, "She didn't mention you, and I don't mean to hold you accountable. Just tell me the truth."

He Cong's hand rested idly on the side of the seat while he was on the phone, his dark eyes still watching his young son across the table.

Seeing that He Zhimo had only taken a few sips of soup from the small bowl and then slowed down and stopped again, he tapped his fingers lightly on the edge of the table as a reminder. He Zhimo then continued to drink with the spoon in hand.

At the same time, Yu Zhu on the other end of the phone hesitated for a while, and finally admitted, "Yes, President He... Miss Shang did call last night to ask for President He's address in Wencheng. I heard Miss Shang's tone was so urgent, so..."

He Cong's face was stern, but after hearing the word "urgent", he narrowed his eyes, raised his eyebrows slightly, and slowly withdrew his hand and said, "Give me her number."

After hanging up the phone, He Cong expressionlessly saved the number that Yu Zhu had just reported to him on the phone.