Gu Mohan stopped walking, he turned his head to look at the woman beside him. With a low and stern tone, he said tersely, "Let go."
Let go.
His words were so cold.
Tang Mo'er's gaze shifted, she looked at Little Munchkin, who was still sleeping. Her grip over his shirt tightened. "President Gu, what are you doing? Let's not drag Niuniu into this matter, Niuniu—"
"Niuniu is my son, who are you to even meddle in our affairs?"
There wasn't a single ounce of emotion on Gu Mohan's face, the only thing she could notice was his sharp, piercing gaze.
"I'm really fond of Niuniu—"
Before Tang Mo'er could even finish her words, he interrupted her abruptly. "Miss Tang, you can keep your 'fondness' to yourself. There are many people who are fond of Niuniu, you're just one of the countless many. Don't think too much of yourself."
Tang Mo'er froze.
He was right, who was she to even deserve to be fond of Niuniu?
