"You’re not too late to know now," Ye Zi’an glanced at him with a hint of amusent in his eyes.
"Handso Dad, can I do it tomorrow?"
Ye Zi’an shook his head without a second thought, "What needs to be done today must be done today, don’t you understand that?" He fastened his belt and suddenly felt it was tight.
He looked down in confusion, the belt had always been fastened at this spot, so why had he not noticed the tightness before?
Feeling sowhat uneasy, he rushed to the dressing table and after several glances, confird his handso face was still as it had always been and then he felt relieved.
"Can’t I just do today’s and tomorrow’s tasks together? I’ll finish tomorrow’s lesson, and today’s as well," Yangyang began to bargain, "Handso Dad, why don’t you take with you? I haven’t been to the town yet. Handso Dad, look at your pitiful little son. I’ve grown so much but haven’t had a proper look at the place I was born."
"Handso Dad! Handso Dad!" He clutched at Ye Zi’an’s robe hem and even managed to wipe his eyes twice, putting on quite an accomplished act of looking pitiable.
Ye Zi’an, now confident that he hadn’t gained weight, took a closer look at his son. The corners of his eyes were dry, and the corners of his mouth were tilted up as if he had been caught stealing a laugh.
He smoothly withdrew his robe from his son’s small hands, thinking that it had been a long ti since he and Xiaxia had been alone together and even longer since he had gone out on his own. How could he take this little rascal with him?
"Son, the act of looking pitiable might work once, but not a second ti. You already used it last ti when you wanted money; using it again is overdoing it," he said, patting his son’s head. "Compared to your brother who was lured away by your fourth uncle, you’re already fortunate to stay at ho. As for the rest, don’t even think about it. Practice your calligraphy diligently. We’ll go to your grandmother’s for lunch, and in the afternoon, you’ll co back and recite texts."
"If you don’t finish, well, I won’t be easy to talk to..."
Having said that, he ignored his son’s expression and went downstairs, supporting Yang Chuxia.
As for Yangyang, he humd and hawed, taking his ti to co downstairs after his hopes were dashed.
Even during the al, he was still sullen and silent.
"Xiaxia, have I gained weight?" Ye Zi’an suddenly felt his belt tighten again right after finishing a bowl of porridge.
It made him uncomfortable enough to realize that the feeling upstairs had been correct—the belt was indeed tighter.
"Really?" Yang Chuxia looked at him; his face was still gaunt. "I don’t think so."
"But, but my belt feels tighter," said Ye Zi’an, not caring about dignity as he loosened it a bit to feel more comfortable.
Having finished her al, Yang Chuxia ca over to check and found the marks on the belt had indeed shifted.
With a hardly suppressed laugh, she said, "You need to lose weight!"
Ye Zi’an was now feeling gloomy—how had he gained weight? When had it even started?
Could it be the food at ho had been too good lately? No, he couldn’t beco a fat man; what about his face... Instantly imagining his face several tis fatter, he shuddered. He knew his wife adored his looks; what if she lost interest in him because he turned ugly? No, that simply wouldn’t do!
"Son, tomorrow morning your dad will practice martial arts with you." He indeed needed more exercise.
When Yangyang heard this, he imdiately made a face and ran off, "I don’t want to train with you; oh, Handso Dad is going to beco a big fatso."
"Hey, you little rascal! Asking for a beating, huh!"
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