666: Do I still have time for that now?

Do I still have time for that now?

Hearing that made his eyes cringed, and he stooped slightly to hold the boy's shoulders.1

Quietly facing the little lad at his eye level, he did not conceal the loving indulgence in his eyes.

Slowly, he opened his mouth to utter, "Is there still time for me to do that now?

"Do I still have time for that now?"

Youyou was slightly startled by his sincere tone and expression.

"I want to spoil you, love you, and dote on you. Can I do that now?" The man reached out to hold Youyou's hand, the flesh of his thumb's fingertip lightly pressing the back of it.

The little lad's hand was soft and tender; it was just right for a seven-year-old.

His skin was snowy white; even the capillaries under the epidermis were clearly visible.

The fingertips were of adorably pinkish color.

It was hard to imagine how this boy's pair of small hands had created such incredible tales of magic and had just sent the Pentagon's security system crushing down a few minutes ago.

His son was a genius!

Even at the mere age of seven, his achievements were already garnering worldwide attention.

This tiny body seemed to contain an insurmountable spirit.

Incredible.

This was his son whom he should feel proud.

He should be comforted by the fact that he had such an exceptional genius for a son.

However, now, as he held his little hand, there was a bittersweet emotion that seemed to spread outward from his heart.

It was heart pain.

His heart really ached for this kid.

No matter what astonishing feats he had under his belt, he was still indubitably a seven-year-old child.

He did not know how to make out of his childhood.

When he investigated his identity and background, he also received a thick stack of the kid's medical records.

From the reports, it seemed that this child had spent his first three years inside a hospital.

Congenital heart defect…

Asthma…

Hyperventilation syndrome…

The man pinched his hand softly, heartache overflowing in his eyes.

The boy was stunned and then slowly withdrew his little hand from the big one.

I guess it may be too late by now.

Frowning, the boy merely pouted. "I'm already used to it."

He was sufficiently mighty and strong now.

He was mighty enough to protect his mommy.

The wealth and power he had right now were sufficient to protect this family.

"Nothing is important to me now other than my mommy."

With that, he took a deep sigh and turned to leave the study room with heavy steps.

The man stared penetratingly at his back before he broke into a smile.

He could see that the child was craving for his hug.

That day, in the hospital, when he held him carefully in his arms by his little waist, the boy snuggled close to his chest like a harmless kitten, albeit just for that moment.

This child was headstrong and proud.

In any case, a gulf of separation, marked by seven years of estrangement, certainly existed between them.

It seemed that it would be a tall task to gain the boy's approval and to make the boy accept him as his father wholeheartedly.

Inside the dining hall, Youyou walloped his noodles with great satisfaction.

When he saw the man appear, his face showed a complex look.

She asked, "Youyou, how's mommy's skill this time?"

"Excellent!" The boy clapped and praised her generously.

The noodles were thoroughly cooked, the food was not burned, and there was no overly bland or salty taste; her skills definitely improved!

The truth was, the boy might be very picky with food, but when it came to his mommy's culinary skills, he surprisingly held low standards for her.

pqdm.com