This meant "Uncle, speak."
It seemed that Little Muche was always saying this since Wei Zilin understood him.
"What do you want me to say?" His clear voice sounded in the morning. It sounded refreshing as it was accompanied by the slight fog from last night mixed with the smell of morning dew.
The weather was good today. The sky was clear and the few clouds in the sky looked like large pieces of cotton candy. In this environment, Wei Zilin's voice was as welcome as the morning breeze.
It was a little cold, yet it was invigorating. It was the kind of weather that most people yearned for all year long.
Xu Moyan could not help but smile at Wei Zilin's gentle voice toward his nephew. She knew that one day when they had their own child, he would only love their child even more.
After listening to Wei Zilin's voice, Little Muche smiled brightly and held on to him even tighter.
