"You brat, you're really influenced by your bastard father. Have you been around him for too long, picking up nothing useful but all his cunning tricks? It's really unlikeable."
An Jiayou smirked, dismissive of the other person's words: "Is that something you need to learn? It's just my innate talent."
Han Xiayang fell silent immediately.
An Nan watched her son with a smile, her eyes full of indulgent reprimand: "Jiayou, you shouldn't be so rude."
"Got it, An Nan."
An Jiayou's gaze fell back on Han Xiayang, the malicious intent from earlier gone: "Uncle Xia Yang, where's my dad?"
