Sister Su Li's due date was around mid-June this year, but Feng Yi's actual birthday is May third, more than a month early.
There's a saying, "Seven lives, eight dies"—a seven‑month premature baby survives more easily than an eight‑month one. Even though Ning Yan scoffed at that kind of folk wisdom, he still couldn't help worrying.
Of course a premature baby's constitution can't compare to that of a child born at full term, let alone when Sister Su Li's pregnancy had been abnormally difficult from the start; this birth was never going to be smooth.
Ning Yan thought for a moment, and instinctively went to take Feng Yi's phone from the table.
Feng Yi caught his hand in reverse, eyes full of laughter. "Isn't Uncle Ning supposed to be the legendary genius? How come you're starting to act stupid too?"
