I looked down at the sleeping baby in my arms. He was as soft as a piece of soft cheese. It exudes the unique milky fragrance of babies.
Suddenly, his sparse eyebrows seemed to frown. A cry like a train whistle broke out in an instant.
I just felt like the veins in my head were bulging, almost like I was about to have a stroke.
Mine. . . . Son. . . . .
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My own writings: Ancient Chinese proverbs, martial arts, and sinister men